Creativity, art and observing the world through a visually dynamic schema have always been a huge part of who I am, and how I make sense of the microcosmos about me. From representing things I love – in my teenage years I was forever drawing pictures of horses, to expressing my stance on environmental crises (The Los Angeles Times described some of this work as paintings of endangered rain forest wildlife coded with symbols), to exploring my inner sense of shame and lack of self-worth as a victim of chronic child sexual abuse – I have always believed that art must have a reason compelling itself to exist. From the overly literal to the overtly symbolic (The Girl Has Balls pictured above for example), each piece must be imbued with meaning, even if perchance the work may be pleasing to the eye. While I certainly acknowledge that a viewer forges his or her own interpretation of my work, my presence nonetheless is evident throughout, most certainly in 50 yrs. later, not only in self-portraiture or manipulated extant photographs, but kinetic assemblages (e.g. smashing objects or obsessive wrapping) too, each of which is defined by evocative personal experience. 50 yrs later can thus be characterized as a requiem for catastrophic trauma and the squandered opportunities that followed in its wake.