I am a woman who has the desert in her bones, in her belly, and in her blood. The desert has claimed me. After 50 years here, where is the boundary between me and this place? Is there one?
“Dry, the soul grows wise and good. “– Heraclitus
The desert has dried and seasoned me like the desert plants who spring up and flower over night after the smallest rainfall…
I am rooted here.
Myth of the Desert Sands
Manifesto
Let the earth vocalize through my violin.
The songs of the earth have no words.
If a flower had vocal chords in her stem, what would she sing to me? In colors, shades, a profusion of beauty and growth.
Growing in the elements of the soil and sunlight, water and air.
I lean my bow into the strings. I lean into bird song.
The calling of the dawn. The inspiration of the wind.
The strings of my violin are my lifeline.
The bow, the aim of my life as an artist.
scoop up a handful of soil…
you are embracing the earth, soul to soul.
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