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It started as an itch. A pull toward something with no view, no place, no reference point - just what was going on inside. Confusion. Passion. Excitement. Anger. Conflict. A kind of turmoil that needed somewhere to go. So Lucy let it.
There was no plan for where each piece would end up. No sketch of a destination. Just paint, and the decision to keep going until something true came out the other side.
Two feelings kept surfacing as the work took shape - the lightness of a feather, and the heaviness of a storm. So that's how the six pieces sit: some drifting, some raw, and one that finds the light breaking through the middle of it all.
