When I was a little over one year of age my mother accidentally left a marker uncapped. I grabbed the marker and started drawing on a marble table in our home when my mom wasn’t looking. Apparently there was something aesthetically pleasing about my scribbles. That’s when this crazy life of being an artist started. It’s a journey I continue to this day at age 49. Often filled with doubt at my life choice, I have to remember that the early child in me knew what I was here to do. More About Betsy