“As early as I can remember, my understanding of a secret garden was, and above all, that it was a safe place to be. A lovely secluded spot where the weather was perfect and the surroundings, irresistibly enticing with soft dewy moss for my tender bare feet.  

 

Although chess is notorious for its unforgiving ferociously, it too, belonged in my imaginary garden. Watching my grandmother play chess was an entirely captivating sport as I was growing up. With a handsome glass of Old Grand Dad Bourbon Whiskey on the rocks in one hand, she eloquently massacred her opponents in total silence, topping it all off with a polite smile after dealing the last lethal blow. This was always such a sobering reminder for me, of  just how my own imaginary secret garden retained it’s mystical pleasantness. 

 

Over the years, my secret garden has grown to be a place where I can exist autonomously. Where the battle for a good life can include me as a creator, without history or future interfering. The works in Secret Garden are the murmurs streaming in from this secret garden I call my own.”