Visiting my artist grandmother for weekend trips, I remembers following her up a very steep, spiraled and creaky staircase thinking we were going to Rapunzel’s castle room. Instead, at the end of the journey was an artist’s studio with an array of half finished clay models and easels amid dozens of oil paint tubes and that distinct smell of turpentine; the memory of which even today warms my heart and reminds me of those fascinating art lessons she gave me. It was there that I was introduced to the joy of artistic creativity.