Donna Boguslav

As the last changeling born to an Irish gypsy and a winding Alaskan river, I packed my caravan early with little knives, toe shoes, sable brushes, loon feathers, and a stethoscope. I posed nude for magicians waving fine charcoal wands; they taught me to paint songs on woven cloth. I followed turtles building great castles; they taught me to scratch dreams on dead trees. I continue my travels, midwife little worlds, exist on laughter and mystery. I thank you and every artist I have ever known. -Donna Boguslav