Every once in a while, I come upon an exhibit at a museum of folk artists or a film about a woman artist who is called a “folk artist” on Prince Edward Island. Usually, the folk artist has passed on, leaving paintings to be found by relatives in an attic or garage. One of these artists lived in Poland, painting the walls of her cottage with angels as an effort to heal after her son died of an overdose. These artists took out paints and brushes and expressed was in their hearts,what was around them and what they could imagine that might protect and nurture them. I believe that they painted what they wanted to see and sometimes they painted the horrors of what they saw---to exorcise what sat remembered. They used what they could afford for paints and canvasses, embroidery thread and cloth.. They flourished even if only in that moment of creation when the painting communicated what they had in their hearts and minds and then perhaps over and over as they returned to their work to ponder what had emerged.

The image I chose for this page is a studio in the forests of Mittel Europa where the Celts lived before they migrated to the coasts of Spain, France and where my ancestors finally settled in Ireland and Scotland. This forest is with me still, imprinted through centuries spent under its spell, the roots of trees that transmitted the messages of storms and drought and long ago fires. It is also the abandoned stable in a village on the west coast of Japan that was my home for 14 years. This is where, I imagined, the bears could come for safety. The foxes were the keepers of the inn.