I whispered these words at the end of an unbelievable day in Lautenheim, a remote village in France where, for the first time, I had met my relatives in the old world. Before I knew it, surrounded by loving relations who a moment before had been perfect strangers, I was entering the house that my great-great-grandfather had built. As my cousins proudly took me on a tour, I couldn't help but become a tangle of emotion and inspiration. When they opened the door to my great-great-grandfathers workshop, I felt close to him, just as I had felt when I spent hours in my grandfather's workshop, catching curled wood-shavings as they flowed from his plane. It was a moment of contentment never to be forgotten, and in an attempt to capture it, I sketched the doorway that had welcomed me into the house. Looking back, I think this moment crystallizes my experience as an artist, combining my love of family and surroundings with my need to record them in my painting.

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