When my sister and I spent the summers in grandfather’s village, we loved climbing to the top of a hill nearby. From there, we could see acres and acres of salt fields, like pieces of white gems inlaid in the blue landscape. On the verge of the village, there laid the Pacific Ocean, and salt farmers carried baskets and baskets of sea water into the salt fields and poured them on the sand. Their footprints circled around the fields and became trails of crystals, spreading outward like in spirals from the centers of white gems. My sister used to tell me that they were the teardrops of the ocean. These are my earliest memories about print-making and graphic art.