Christmas time and I had greens to cook. In my family, both nuclear and extended, that's my job. My greens are good. My greens are legendary. Don't ask for the recipe 'cause I won't tell you. But I also had a desire to paint. So I sat down at the little porch table, where the greens were piled high, and took some photos. I decided to leave the greens in the painting. And somehow, the collards took on their own life. They became richer and fuller and infused with meaning. They connected me to my daddy and my childhood and my heritage and my community. They are dirty hands, and hope and nurture and community. Yeah, all of that in a bunch of greens. This was the beginning of my collard green series.