I've always loved paintings and painting.

I remember fondly the paintings at my great-grandmother's: a dead rabbit, some tall bunches of flowers on either side of the door. I remember too, at my grandfather's, the portraits of my aunts, a naked woman done in sanguine, an old man and a boy, a rough sea. They all made me dream and very happy.

I own a large painting showing my grandmother playing cards, to which I am particularly attached.

Paintings were never dead images. They are full of life and meaning. Those that first surrounded me were painted by relatives and told of other relatives and of the landscapes they loved.

Now I paint in my turn. It is daunting to follow previous generations but also an invitation. It's keeping a mad voice going, some kind of echo alive.

I paint mostly landscapes as they touch me most, and I want to share their beauty and threatened balance and power with whoever wishes to look at them too.

Special thanks to my great aunt who bequeathed me some beautiful linen cloth, to my family for their patience and understanding, and to Olivier Applewhite who photographed the paintings.