I am a printmaker. I am a product of the great mark makers of the past. I dive in with my whole being, playing with the process and stretching it with both hands and arms and fingers so that the conversation between me and the paper and the press continues. My eye gazing over every inch of the print, I stand back, surprised, amused, enticed by what I see, hoping the viewer will travel the page with me and find her or his story alongside mine. I am a child of immigrants. My art has always aligned with the personal, has always centered around journey and transition. Currently, I am unable to look away from the countless people forced out of their countries, their cultures, their homes. I am also recognizing most poignantly and viscerally the transformation that happens as one ages, as I age. There are no limits in the struggle between life and death, in the crossings and the passages. There is no compass. There are no maps. Simply a ‘Journey’ unfolding, again and again, as it should.