When my brother died, I retreated into myself. I didn't want to talk, to hug, to laugh, to cry, or to share. I felt too much. All at once, my entire world collapsed in on it's self. Michael had been the keystone in my world view. Without him, I had no framework to connect outside of myself. I seemed to be running, avoiding, and unable to face reality. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I was fighting, desperately trying to connect. Processing one small piece at a time, as long as I was 'doing', I had enough stability to keep going. Five years after Michael died, I pinned a 16 foot blank canvas to the wall and took a leap of faith into stillness. A beautiful body of uninhibited work poured from me conduit connecting me to the world again. Art became the new keystone around which I would build a framework of reality.