Dottie grew up in Walton County Georgia surrounded by clear breezes, home-grown vegetables, and fishing. Pine trees were taller than buildings and rain was so fierce it shook the ground. Pigs had names and dogs never needed sleep. A stretch of highway 78 moved like an escalator to an endless floor and Dottie imagined what it would be like to hop on and never get off. Self-taught is an understatement. The process, still, amazes her with its enlightening and unaware arrival at locales unforeseen. Her work is about preserving a silence that not...more
