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​Here’s a personal story about what fuels me — and this site.

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Last September, I organized a Remembrance for my mother, Valeria Belle Anderson, in Madison, Georgia.    She passed in California, shortly after turning 94.    We gathered at Plainview Baptist Church — her family’s church, built on land donated by her people, the Andrews.

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Being there felt like stepping into living mythology.

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The county museum has a permanent Andrews Gallery.   On the walls: mom's brother — my uncle Benny, the celebrated painter.  Written about, my uncle Raymond, the respected writer.

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But what stopped me was standing in front of my grandad George’s paintings, seeing them in-person for the first time.

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He painted his whole life – even when living in a shack.  In Madison, everyone knew that was just part of who G. was.   He worked.   He lived.   He made pictures.   No one considered his work ‘professional’  or 'art' –  until his sons became famous (undoubtedly inspired by him).   Now G's celebrated in the Gallery as 'The Dot Man'.

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He created –  simply because he had to.    Without spotlight or promise of anything.   He created because he needed to speak his language, and it made him whole.    Standing before his colorful,  wild expression, I knew that same current runs through me  –  and through other working-class people like me .   We need to share what we have the urge to express -- not for money or recognition (though that would be very nice) -- but to become whole.  - Trayce