I had an idyllic childhood; at least that’s how I choose to remember it. I paint sunlit landscapes, charming old houses, warm interiors and dreamy nocturnes because they remind me of my halcyon youth but memory is such a fickle thing that what I recall could be a fabrication or at least an exaggeration. Making these paintings causes me to examine the impressions of my past that I have held as truth for so long. The act of painting provides me with a metaphorical crowbar to pry open my long held assumptions. I am becoming open to seeing new truths.