Like most of us, I have a few disjointed memories of my early childhood. Fragments. Isolated episodes with little or no context. I can’t quite piece together a complete narrative from my personal memory bank prior to about age five. But some of those early memories endure and even still bear emotional freight.
|John Stuart Ingle’s “Still Life with Cookies”|
|Camille Pissarro’s “Woman Digging”|
|From Nicole Starr|
|Edgar Degas’ “Rehearsal”|