Return of the Crab... 4"x5" mixed media on canvas
In the Box Again... 5"x5" mixed media on canvas
Red Rover! Red Rover 4"x5" mixed media on canvas
Waiting Again... 4"x5" mixed media on canvas
"The Box" 5"x5" mixed media on wood, part of Imagination Squared Project
So, I thought long and hard about what to put on my “square” for the Imagination Squared Project. After much deliberation, I decided to go with my refrigerator box memory. Most of us have a similar experience, someone shows up with a giant box, the next thing you know it’s been turned into a “house” or maybe a “fort.” In this particular depiction, the box was turned into a sort of “ride.”
My sister and I would get a couple of neighborhood kids to help out as we got in the box with the family dog. After we were nice and comfortable, the flaps were closed and that’s when the real fun began. The kids on the outside had the simple but important job of rolling the box down the driveway. Not only was this dangerous, but it was so much fun. I still have no idea how we all survived with only minor bumps and bruises and I know that if the humane society were to find out the dog was involved in this insanity then, he may of been confiscated but, in our defense, he seemed to enjoy it.
I have several memories of visiting Colombia as a child. My memories of the landscape, culture, and people are still as vivid as always. I remember being in the capital, Bogotá, riding in taxis and buses, watching the mountains role by, making eye contact with the llamas and cows on the side of the rode, smelling the various foods from the street vendors, and just taking it all in.
When we would take trips outside of Bogotá, many times, we would have take a special bus. Unlike buses here in the USA, it was a slightly different experience and these special buses are commonly referred to as “chivas.” Many times the chivas were overly decorated with bright colors and over loaded with people, merchandise and various livestock. Sometimes these bus rides would entail several hours of riding down winding dirt roads, through mountains, and sometimes over landslides at ridiculous speeds. I often wondered, how the chiva didn’t go tumbling down the mountain side. In my most recent travels to Colombia, the chiva is more of a tourist attraction now than a standard, but I can’t help reminiscing of the adrenaline rush as we hastily made our way to the next town.
Seperation 20"x30" mixed media on canvas
I have a sister 2 years older than me. As children, we were inseparable in all we did. I have memories of my sister holding my hand wherever we went, if she had to leave my side she would often hug me and give me a kiss on the cheek. We had our moments of sibling rivalry that comes with being a kid, but what sticks in my head is the additional layer of protection and comfort she was in my life.
I have several memories of being separated from my sister. There was the one time we went to vacation bible school, I remember we just had a fantastic bus ride to the school where we entertained ourselves by yelling at truck drivers to “HONK YER HORN!!!” And you could not imagine the excitement and screaming involved when one of them actually blew their horn. As we unloaded from the bus they started to separate us by age and that’s when it happened. I could feel that sinking feeling in my gut as I realized I wasn’t by my sister, they sat me down with a Jesus coloring book page and a green crayon. I knew Jesus wasn’t green but I was so emotional and distracted that I remember carefully coloring him in green until I couldn’t hold it in any more and the tears started flowing. One of the teachers came over to me and I told her my stomach hurt and she asked if I wanted to see my sister, of course I said yes. Luckily, they reunited me with her and all was good again.
Then there was time my sister started kindergarten. I have several memories of watching her get on the bus and wishing I could be with her. It was a great day when I finally got to ride the bus to school with her, but a sad day when I found out we’d be separated again once we got to school. It was a vicious cycle but I finally learned to cope 
