Persistance. Questions. Doubt. Do I have anything to say? What is my view of the world? Do I have values anymore? Each day passes and the questions remain. My boots are full of them. Colors pouring into me this Spring as I drive through the countryside. Trees blossoming white, pink, violet. Red, brilliant coquelicot, poppy plants nestled in lush fields of green. The subtle brilliant creams and ivory of the poplar trees. This year, more than ever, the colors are filling me up, my eyes, my body, my brain. I guess it has always been this way, but for some reason I’ve never noticed it. And here I am, working in b&w more than ever. It’s like when I was young. Long sleeves in summer, t-shirts in winter. My father didn’t understand me.