When I was a little girl, we had a ritual in our household. Every night, before bed, my then two sisters (we’ve added to the family since then) would collect our blankets and stuffed animals and sometimes a pencil and paper for sketching, and congregate around my mom in the living room. The first thing to come out was always the Bible. My Mom would unzip the leather cover, with the embroidered butterfly waving to us briefly before it was folded aside for the precious words within. After a passage and an inevitable question or two, the book was lovingly set aside for another 24 hours and my mom would retrieve a well-loved copy of our latest obsession. Our eyes would grow wide and we would toss aside our bevy of comforters in the anticipation of being thrown into a wild new world. One chapter was never enough, and we would drift off to bed with entreaties for "just one more" and avid discussions of the protagonist’s latest endeavors, looking forward to the promises of another chapter the following night.
Stories have always held a place in human culture. So much so, that it seems that we cannot survive long without them. Food, water, warmth, shelter, and God forbid we forget to tell a story. Stories take many forms, but some of the oldest and most treasured are the kinds that we can find on paper: books and art. It’s no wonder that I grew to love these things so much so that I wanted to not just consume them but create them. If you are here, I expect that you, too, have a great love for stories. I hope you will enjoy seeing some of them through my eyes.