Paint brush and paint called my name! I said, “I ain’t no artist!” I don’t know how to draw! Paint brush and paint called my name. The paint brush said, “You do not have to know how to paint, we will guide your heart and hands.” I said alright then! I didn’t go to some fancy art school. I was born in the deep south, Cairo, Georgia and I had this 3rd grade teacher that really messed me up about art. She held up my flower painting to the class and told everyone this is how you do not paint a flower. I never stepped into an art class ever again because I knew I did not belong there. Took 50 years to get back to my birthright, to be an artist! I had a BIG DREAM a few years ago that woke me right out of my sleep. There was an old woman with long white braided hair with her wrinkled hand outstretched to me! She said, “We give you these horse hairs, it is time for you to remember us!” Then she disappeared into the canyon wall. I took the horse hairs and tied them to a long cedar pole. Then all of a sudden, I was flying through the Grand Canyon and I was painting horses, ancient native peoples, clouds and strange otherworld beings on the canyon walls. After that dream, I wanted to paint and I found my way back to the paint and to the brush. So now, I listen to the wisdom of the paint and I dance with my paint brush and give voice to all the invisibles that are clamoring to teach us humans how much we have forgotten how to co-create with eternity. I hope this art that pours through me can give others the blessings they might need to fling open their own creative souls to remember the wisdom written on the bones, stones, canyon and cave walls!