 I'd like to tell you about my love affair with Japanese washi and how it led me to something magical. In 1979, I came to Japan with a backpack, a one-way ticket, and wanderlust. I was fresh out of college, a young artist wanting to see more of the world. Hitchhiking around Japan, I got as far as Kyoto. That's where I started digging into the culture by making prints and paperworks of my immediate surroundings. I fell in love with the narrow streets, the neighborhood baths, a city that reveals itself layer by layer. I set up a little studio and started concentrating on my art. Five years later, I was back in New York and I had a moment that would change my life. I'd wanted to make paper to print on, so I went to visit a paper studio. There, as I watched the paper process, I thought, why make paper to print on when this is a medium that I could pour into images? That's what I should be doing in Japan, painting with paper. I flew back to Kyoto intent on finding a place where I could explore Japanese paper making, also known as washi, and make it my own. The very next week, I went to an 800-year-old paper-making village called Imandate, outside of Kyoto. There, I met the family of paper makers with whom I'm still working today. My first work explored scale and texture in landscape. Then, I moved towards color and contrast. This evolved into warm, radiant light. Then, moonlight and the vast skies. Light is the theme in my work, but could I take it a step further? Then, something remarkable happened that once again changed my path. I learned about rare, light-sensitive pigments that are phosphorescent and that can hold a charge for hours, often without electricity. Could I use these special pigments in my work and create an art form where the light was coming from within? I knew I had to try. As I unveiled the first luminosity prototypes, I stood silenced. I looked around the room for the source of the moonlight, but it was coming from the work itself. These works are composed to be seen in the light, but they have an added surprise element when viewed at night. Sitting with the work for some time, I noticed it change as my mind quieted. Was it my mind or was it the art? Right away, I set to work exploring the artistic possibilities with luminosity. Could I capture that inner glow and could I communicate it to others in a way that they would be moved as I was? It is my dream to take the luminosity series to public spaces. I want to create work that is safe, meditative, and nurturing. To create environments where people can witness this elemental transformation of light into darkness and light emerging from the darkness. By combining sustainable and natural Japanese washi paper with rechargeable luminescent pigments, we can add light to the dark and move towards a more illuminated world. Speaking of illumination, I also, besides making illuminated washi, I also like to wear it. So I'm wearing a special piece tonight that I wanted to show you. Thank you.