My grandmother was the family artist. She was a prolific sumi-e painter, nationally recognized and greatly beloved within the larger community of Japanese black ink painting. This eastern practice merges spirituality and art, working to evoke the spirit (chi ) of the painting's subject rather than its likeness. I have a vivid memory of my grandmother's hand guiding mine along a sheet of rice paper. She describes to me the importance of that single, finite gesture in the creation of stalks of bamboo. 

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My life as an artist began just a few years after my grandmother's death. ​One of my her favorite animals to paint were red-crowned cranes, iconic symbols in sumi-e and Japanese culture as a whole.  She was particularly drawn to their famous dancing behavior, enamored by the challenge of capturing the freedom and elegance in their forms. The dances of these cranes aren't only performed in search of mates; to teach their young the practice, these birds dance alongside their offspring. My grandmother isn't here to guide my hand in hers anymore. I now must learn to dance by myself. ​​