When I was six, I was made the guardian of a tiny pine sapling, planted for me by a one-armed man named Mr. Luck, on our farm in Bolinas. When we drove from the city to the farm on weekends, I looked forward to seeing my tree, and during the dry season I would sit in school during the week and worry that the little sapling might die. In this time I fell in love with trees.

Driving in California, one sees family stands of oak trees, and also lone giants on the hills. The giant never seems lonely: it has squirrels and insects by day, owls and foxes by night and sometimes people picnic underneath and climb the limbs.

The mural "Afternoon" was created with a texture at the base of the hill — almost of roots in the soil. The hill and tree were painted with hands rather, than brushes — an echo of planting.

The mural was inspired by painting, [Autumn].

» See SF Gate Press, "New hotel in Napa rises tallest of all"