My father taught me how to swim. He would worried my sister and I would get tired so he made sure we knew how to turn on our backs to rest because he knew the best way to take air in the water is when you are on your back. After my father died I kept thinking about this painting, I had made plans to retrieve it from the consignment store and the day I arrived home the first letter I open was a check with the tittle “Head above the water” I have never plan for specific meanings in my paintings they just come in and out of my hands and mind. I think they are born of the stories I carried with me... some stories I know by heart and others I carried like heavy books hoping I will get to them one day. Some days I try to make an inventory of what I am carrying and others I just turned on my back to breathe.