he eyes are the windows to the soul, or at least that is what I believe. I have been painting for as long as I can remember. My mother strongly believed that, if you had art, you would never be lonely or bored. She encouraged my siblings and me by leaving out expensive pencils, warning us not to touch because of how special they were. The reverse psychology worked, and after a lot of pleading, we would be studiously working on our masterpieces. I must admit, however, even as a five year old, it was as much a sense of competition with my older sister that made me vow to become a better artist. Every time I felt like quitting, my mother
