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My interest in surface began very early. As soon as I could crawl, I successfully horrified my mother one afternoon as she sat getting her hair styled by my sister. As the story goes, I crawled into the room where my finely coiffed mother was and dramatically dropped my jaw to enunciate my first word, “hhhhhot.” Glittery glass shards were shimmering on my tongue. I had stolen an ornament off the Christmas tree and taken a hearty bite from it. Surely I was drawn to the intricate reflective beauty of the ornament’s embellished surface. The reactions of my captive audience were that of momentary wonder due to the mercurial sight, followed by the echoing screams of my startled mother as she realized what I’d done.
As I became more mobile, I fixated on my mother’s stash of rhinestone jewelry. A World War II bride, she had a breathtaking array, which was typical of the women of that era. Within their compositions and glittery surfaces time seemed suspended, and they transported me to another world. I imagined an alternate universe resided in those fiery stones just beneath the surface – a limitless atmosphere of luminous color.
