I created *Epitaph* in the 1970s while in graduate school, in my little Shadyside apartment in Pittsburgh.
On the day it was born, I had played hooky and wandered into the Carnegie Museum.
The Egyptian exhibit stopped me in my tracks—those ancient walls, carved with memory, seemed to breathe permanence.
I left the museum determined to create something that would feel just as timeless.
Back in my apartment, I spread the canvas across the floor and began working with acrylic resin, sand, paint, and a painting knife—moving material around almost as though I were building the surface of an ancient wall.
The result was a piece that felt more like sculpture than painting, something meant to outlast me.
*Epitaph* has survived fifty years and countless moves, from coast to coast, and today it hangs in my entryway.
I think of the day it was made—paint and sand under my hands, the walls of Egypt echoing in my mind—and I still feel the urgency and inspiration of that moment.
A neighbor across the hall loved the work so much that she asked me to create another one for her, which I did.
I sometimes wonder where that companion piece resides now, and whether it too has carried its own echo of permanence through the years.
*Medium: Acrylic, sand, and paint on canvas, 35×50 — $1000*