When I was only three, I was already snow-obsessed. So my mother took me on a bus all the way to my grandmother's home in North Carolina that Christmas in hopes we would see snow. Or course there was no snow in North Carolina - but, miracle of miracles, it snowed at home in Houston while we were gone, and I can still remember the melting snowman my sister made for me that was the only evidence of the Texas snow. I've dreamed of snow ever since. So when I moved to Arkansas from Texas about 15 years ago, I was thrilled at the prospect of real winters with lots of snow. And snow it has. Down on our little road that runs along the lake under a tree-covered bluff line, we get the best of winter: snow of great variety and depth that usually doesn't last too long. I am always out tramping around, taking photographs, playing with the dog, looking and looking. All these paintings are within about a mile of my house.
Though we think of snow as white, it seldom is. Every color, at some point, will appear in snow because of reflection, light, clouds, seepage, etc. In my paintings, I try to capture those colors, pull them forward a little, and highlight them in my art.
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