We were fans of Erin Womack's hairpin-curveball naive visual art from catching it in shows such as the Transmodern Age offshoot Collaborate Now and her small solo show in MICA's Pinkard Gallery. We liked how she can take what feels like really benign, almost childish delight in youthful things and then, by choices in colors or simple rendering, push such simple scenes into the surreal. We even liked her children's books when we started seeing them at a local independent bookstore, and we never like children's books--or children for that matter. And then we found out that on what Womack calls a "sleepy day" on Abell Avenue in 2006, she was run over by a car, crushing her favored right hand in the process. Metal put it back together again, but during the three-month recovery she learned how to draw with her left hand. And for that reason she is our artist of the year--as well as a personal hero.