As a flash from the corner of my eye comes inspiration, in fits and starts, and only after much rumination and futzing about. I describe my work in general as whimsical and good natured, but think about something darker, more profound as I create. I miss a salon-like atmosphere not experienced in DC. The voices of discourse and witty poetry are silent these days. Out of heated debate and polite disagreement, new ideas are inspired and formed, and we exercise our minds. I seek to be motivated by these ideas, risks that someone should be taking. Where are the princes of the new world, the tragic defenders of expression, the lions of passionate discourse? The magical people that would fill the court of such leaders are waiting.