I was in foster care until my mid teens and am a part of the 60s Scoop Movement as a result I was lost to my family my culture my traditions and my language. In my mid 30's we lost many from our family and the beat of the drums made my heart ache. I was given my grest Aunts dress and one day I saw a dress in it with horse hair. Though I did not know how to sew or bead...I made that dress by hand with supplies I found at the thrift shop. I had to take it apart many times before it fit. That was the beginning to my true life's journey. I did not know I was an artist until my Aunty told me one day. I argued I am not and she told me to look differently and see I had created these things of beauty. Another said it was the grandmothers talking to me and gifting me with this knowledge though I can tell you there is blood sweat and tears quite literally in my early works. I finally felt I was "home" a place my heart always ached for. It is me and finally I belonged.