Archive for the ‘ghost signs’ Category

Sunday Morning Stirrings in the Gallery

August 28, 2022
Ancel E. Nunn’s Dream. 11 x 14″ framed watercolor. $250

That, precisely, is the deadliness of second-handers.  They have no concern for facts, ideas, work.  They’re concerned only with people.  They don’t ask: “Is this true?” They ask: “Is this what others think is true?” Not to judge, but to repeat.  Not to do, but to give the impression of doing.  Not creation, but show.  Not ability, but friendship.  Not merit, but pull.  What would happen to the world without those who do, think, work, produce?  Those are the egotists.  You don’t think through another’s brain and you don’t work through another’s hands.  When you suspend your faculty of independent judgment, you suspend consciousness.  To stop consciousness is to stop life.  Second-handers have no sense of reality.  Their reality is not within them, but somewhere in that space which divides one human body from another.  Not an entity, but a relation—anchored to nothing.  That’s the emptiness I couldn’t understand in people. 

Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

It’s rare to find me in The Gallery at Redlands on a Sunday morning. But we had an event last night in the Redlands Hotel that kept the gallery open late, so we decided to spend the night rather than journey two hours home at such a late hour.

Over coffee, I am re-reading portions of Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead, a book I’ve read twice in its entirety, and still go back to read highlighted and underlined texts as well as my marginal scribblings. In the passage above, our hero/architect/individualist Howard Roark is sounding off about his disdain for “second-handers”. I have other words for those kinds of folks, but I’ll keep those in my pocket.

I didn’t meditate and journal over the passage this morning for the purpose of ranting over the wasted energy of second-handers. Rather, I pointed the passage into my own heart, hoping to improve my life in areas that continue to lag. I’ve never felt like a second-hander. I’ve always tried to carve out my own niche, and usually know what I need to do. I’m always revising my priorities, and now believe I have three main areas that need consistency if I am going to develop as an artist rather than push out the same old products for the market.

My number one priority is unchanged, and I remain consistent in it: study, reflection and writing. I do this religiously every morning without fail. My years as a graduate student made me an addict for research and writing. So I never have to make myself open a book and journal, and set to work in the study. Usually I have this going over coffee seven mornings a week.

But priority number two is moderate, and number three is on life-support. Number two is consistency–making art DAILY. I just don’t do that as I could/should. I have the most beautiful Studio Eidolons in my home, more lovely than any studio I have ever occupied. There is no excuse that I’m not in there every single day (even if for the space of thirty minutes) to engage in making art. It just doesn’t happen. And I have no excuse. I’m fully retired, and I really do not have a demanding daily schedule, so I could and should enter that studio every single day and work on something, even if for a short time. Consistency matters. Because if I miss one day, next thing you know, a week has passed with no new work in progress. I am without excuse. I cannot use the Thursday-through-Saturday gallery schedule as an excuse either. A dear friend gave me a drafting table to keep in the gallery. And there is wonderful light that floods the space daily. So, The Gallery at Redlands is also a studio for me. No excuses. Every day, my dwelling includes a studio. And so, priority number two now has my attention.

And then, priority number three (and this is an embarrassment): sketching. I have a stack of partially used sketchbooks for drawing as well as watercolor. For years I’ve told myself that a “real” artist (vs. the second-hander) sketches every single day. The sketchbook should be carried everywhere I go (the journal does, but not the sketchbook). And I find myself going weeks, months, without one single, paltry sketch. It is in this area that I feel the ultimate embarrassment and hypocrisy. I am frequently asked by enthusiastic emerging artists: “What do I need to do to improve my work, to become more marketable?” And the first thing that enters my mind is the sketchbook, but it stays in my mind, never passes my lips, because I myself don’t do it, and I keep telling myself I believe in it. I wonder if I should make the sketchbook my NUMBER ONE priority? Hmmmm. Maybe that’s what it’s going to take.

OK, let’s put all the cards on the table: I’m writing today’s blog because two days ago a flash of inspiration jolted me and I scribbled it out in my journal to pursue this new idea. And now I am finally stopped long enough to blog it and meditate on it. The idea is reform, revival, renewal. I decided two days ago that I was going to up my game in the areas of blogging, sketching, and daily creation. So now I go public in this blog, no longer keeping it a secret. I intend to blog more consistently and thoughtfully, sketch every single day, and enter the studio to make art daily. And I’ve decided now that the priorities will be 1) sketching, 2) research & writing, and 3) daily creation in the studio.

Time to go to work on these matters. Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.


Saturday Night Painting in the Gallery

August 20, 2022
Tribute to Ancel E. Nunn

It has been a whirlwind of a Saturday, and now we’re about an hour away from closing our Gallery at 9 p.m. Finally, I have the time and leisure to sit down again before the in-progress watercolor of the ruins of Ancel E. Nunn’s studio at the 19th-century foundry across town here in Palestine. I’m still making decisions about how much decay to depict on the beautiful billboard replica he painted inside his work area.

Most of this day was spent at the Tyler Museum of Art in a meeting with a large contingent of East Texas artists making plans for future exhibitions. We are delighted that some of them have taken out ads for the new Eyes of Texas Fine Art Gallery magazine coming out in November. I have also taken out another full-page ad, along with our Gallery at Redlands ad, and a host of our artists who have decided to sign on again.

Jeffie Brewer’s work in The Tyler Museum of Art

There is no describing the warmth I felt when I passed this window inside the Tyler Museum of Art and spotted this Jeffie Brewer sculpture. Coming back “home” to The Gallery at Redlands late this afternoon, I had to pause and take this picture inside our gallery. We cannot describe the pride we feel in having this sculptor’s work inside our venue as well. Jeffie is a native of Palestine and now lives and keeps his studio in Nacogdoches.

Jeffie Brewer’s work inside The Gallery at Redlands
University of Texas Tyler School of Nursing

Once we finished the meeting, we traveled to the School of Nursing to see where my watercolor is hanging in their current exhibition. We are excited at the opportunity for exhibiting in the future at their College of Pharmacy, and then later at their new Medical School now under construction.

We have a number of irons in the fire, but we’re feeling the rising enthusiasm from our colleagues at the approaching fall art season.

Thanks for reading.

Remembering Palestine’s Celebrated Artist, Ancel Nunn

August 13, 2022
Beginning watercolor

. . . a hoarder’s haven, the product of a deadly anxiety about letting go of things too steeped in memory–until they are paralyzed into a uselessness so complete one cannot even make the most necessary repairs.

Lee Jamison, Ode to East Texas: The Art of Lee Jamison

Since I arrived on the Palestine scene in 2017, I have heard countless stories about the legacy of local artist Ancel E. Nunn, who passed away in 1999. I’m embarrassed to testify that I didn’t visit the ruins of one of his studios until this year. I had to see the site because I had heard countless stories about the mural he had painted inside of one of his favorite advertisements, Bright & Early Coffee.

Greg Gunnels, president of the Dogwood Arts Council, offered to take me to the location, and we had to search for the structure because it was completely engulfed in trees. Once inside, Greg himself wondered if we had the right building because there was no sign of a mural. As it turns out, the mural was between the blind windows pictured below.

The ruins of Ancel E. Nunn’s Studio

Since that day, I have sadly learned that inquiries were made about preserving the mural, but nothing was ever finalized, and now it is gone forever. The quote above from artist Lee Jamison describes perfectly what happens when someone purchases a building and merely hoards it without protecting it.

As I stood in the midst of these ruins, my memory traveled back in time when I stood among the Greek ruins: Temple of Apollo, Temple of Poseidon, and others. Then, as in the present, I felt a sense of loss as I stood there contemplating. I felt the loss of something monumental that had touched the lives of many. Yet, as I stood there, I eventually felt a counter-feeling of Presence. I was standing in the studio of Ancel E. Nunn. I was standing in the space where he thought out countless paintings and executed his most famous pieces that now adorn museums and special collections. And I felt something stirring within, and I’m feeling it again today.

The ancient Greeks had a word, pneuma, that is translated “wind” or “breath.” The English New Testament translates it “spirit.” Today when I think of inspiration or ideas, I think of that word and the ancient metaphor of a breeze stirring or breathing quickened. And I feel that artists, writers, musicians and other creatives struggle just as much as I do, trying to explain that stirring that we all welcome.

Thank you for reading. I plan to continue posting this painting on the blog as it progresses.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

Return to Byzantium

August 11, 2022

Gallery at Redlands Lobby Window

And therefore I have sailed the seas and come

To the holy city of Byzantium.

William Butler Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”

Weeks have passed since I entered The Gallery at Redlands, and all day I have wanted to shout from the rooftops of Palestine “I’m Back!” and send this blog post up the flagpole and say “Hi Everyone! It’s Great to Communicate Again!” But alas, the gallery has been busy all day with details (I refer to as “wingnuts”) that are not interesting to post. It’s been great seeing my local friends again, and I’m happy that I was actually missed. Now, the 7 p.m. mark has past and I’m still trying to get this blog wrapped up.

The good news of today was that my watercolor titled “Palimpsest” has been juried into the Granbury Art Association’s Fall Show. This will open in September at the Shanley Houser Center for the Arts at 224 North Travis Street, Granbury.


After a good night’s rest I should be able to publish more tomorrow. This is the first day in weeks that I haven’t napped in the afternoon, and I’m beginning to feel the fatigue.

Thanks for reading.

An Artful Palestine Weekend

April 16, 2022
Mike Long posing beside his Father’s Art Work

“Mitcha, why aren’t you at home painting?”

Hans Hofmann, chiding Joan Mitchell for walking her dog

For the past 72 hours, I’ve heard Hofmann’s stinging rebuke in my ears as I closed the door to my Studio Eidolons and bowed to the ugly task of consolidating all my financial data to submit to my tax preparer yesterday. I absolutely hate going over volumes of spreadsheets of dollar figures to submit to IRS once a year, and swear every year that I will do a better job daily or weekly of consolidating all that stuff rather than poring over it for days on end once a year. Today is Saturday, and my dream for two weeks has been to paint the Chamber of Commerce building across the street from The Gallery at Redlands. Well guess what–it is dark and overcast all day today, so there will be no sun on the side of this building, so I won’t paint today after all. But I can blog . . .

Postponement of painting till the sun emerges again. At least the preliminary drawing is in place

So . . . the photo of the Dr. Pepper ghost sign at the top . . . Last night we were surprised in the gallery by a visit from Mike Long. His father, Donnie Long, painted this Dr. Pepper billboard on the side of the building next door to The Redlands Hotel in 1964. I have been looking at the ghost sign since 2017 when I arrived and have yet to paint it, though Dave Shultz our local friend and photographer, has photographed and enhanced the image numerous times since I’ve known him.

Mike’s information about the Dr. Pepper sign still has my head swimming today. His father painted it free-hand. I have a special gift book about ghost signs that my dear friend Dian Darr handed to me not long after I completed the ghost sign watercolor last year from Hot Springs, Arkansas.

“Palimpsest” Framed Watercolor 22 x 33″. $800

I am fascinated by the stories I read of sign painters and the special templates and tools they used to render their images and slogans. Hearing that this sign was painted free-hand has made me go out there and look at it more closely with astonishment.

I’m sorry to learn that Mike’s father is deceased, and in fact had passed away in 1979, before the sign had been covered over by some kind of new siding. In the late 1990’s, Mike got a surprising phone call from the business across the street while he was working in his office across town. “Come down here, now. And bring your camera.” Mike closed his office and drove to the location to see the “ghost sign” that had been covered over for decades. No one present knew the sign was underneath the siding until it was removed. Mike had even forgotten about it, because he was only a boy when his father painted it. As it turns out, the siding protected the paint from the elements for over twenty years.

As Mike and I visited, he reminisced about his father’s studio, filled with paintings in progress. Mike said his dad would work on whatever his mood directed each day, some of the paintings lying incomplete for months or years before finishing. This fact made me feel better, because I have closets and file drawers filled with “in-progress” watercolors dating back to 2006, some of which may never be finished. I suppose I have more patience in my senior years of work being postponed. After all, I thought I was plein air painting today, and the weather said No. Another time. There are plenty of other tasks to chase today.

Sandi, always working, cleaning, tidying in the gallery

I’m grateful to Sandi and her partnership in this endeavor. All morning she has been working on the gallery, tidying, re-arranging, etc. while I’ve pursued paperwork, this blog, and made preparations for an art lesson this afternoon. There is always something to do in The Gallery at Redlands.

Magazine Launch Party Announcement

Speaking of which–we have a Magazine Launch Party next Wednesday, April 20, from 5-8 pm here in the gallery. The new magazine has come out, Palestine as a “Destination City” has ten pages of ads in the publication, promoting artists and local business sponsors of the arts. If you’re in the area, we would love for you to stop by, meet the artists, sponsors, and Gloria Hood the magazine publisher. The magazines will be available here, and I’m sure that artists would be happy to autograph their pages! We’re looking for a good time that night. Special treats are being prepared, and there will plenty of wine to pour.

Thanks for reading. I’m always happier when I land in Palestine, city of the arts, to pursue new adventures.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

Thoughts from the Redlands Hotel

June 11, 2021

June 2, 2021

Hello, Sandi?

“Hi there. I suppose you’re in the middle of a class?”

“Actually, yes.”

Well . . . I’m gonna have to ask you to cut it short . . . There’s been an accident. Christine is driving me to Huguley Emergency Center.”

I put down the phone, in shock.

“Really sorry folks. I gotta go. Now. Sandi has been in an accident involving her horse. She’s being taken to the emergency room. I have no details.”

I fumbled to gather my art materials, struggling to think of what to put in which container.

“We’ve got this. We’ll lock everything up for you . . . you need to get outta here.”

I don’t remember the 45-minute drive through traffic from south Arlington to south Fort Worth. All I could think of was: what happened? Did she take a fall from her mount? Did the horse trample her in the stall (Sandi is petitie; her horse is 17.3 hands tall)? There were no details shared.

Arriving at the emergency room, I immediately saw Sandi being admitted, seated in a wheelchair, and forgetting protocall, I nearly fainted at the thought of paralysis.

The news was serious, but not nearly as serious as I’d feared. Struggling with a 120-lb. hay bale in the back of her truck, Sandi lost her balance when the hay hook tore loose from the bale. She pitched headfirst off the tailgate, hitting the ground below squarely on her face. Raising her head, she saw that the hay hook had plunged all the way through her hand, from the palm through the back. The medical staff, concerned about broken bones, immediately performed CT scans to see if there was any vertebrae damage or broken arms or wrists. Everything negative. Examining the injured hand, the specialist marveled that only muscle was damaged, no bones, tendons or ligaments were touched by the spike. Therefore, Sandi’s hand should heal in time without surgery or rehab.

All this happened nine days ago, hence a blog hiatus. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t write. This past week-and-a-half has been a fog. I have spent some time alone in the gallery, but couldn’t concentrate much, thinking of Sandi back home recuperating, and grateful for the many friends who came visiting, bringing food, and working to keep our chins up. Sandi is mending and in better spirits now. I’m at the gallery for two days only, then heading back to be where I really belong and want to be.

Now to catch up on Gallery at Redlands news . . .

Palimpsest, 22 x 33″ framed watercolor. $1500

I am proud finally to hang my latest framed watercolor Palimpsest in the Gallery. Today has been busy with traffic and sales in the gallery. If things slow down later tonight, I plan to resume work on my Sacred Heart watercolor. So far I have worked only on the night sky. This beautiful church is across the street from The Gallery at Redlands and I see portions of its upper story through the windows of this space throughout the day.

The Gallery is taking on a new look as we continue to add new work and new artists to our mix.

Wayne White, Fork in the Road 16 x 21″ Fractured Glass Photograph, $200

Photographer Wayne White, my friend since second grade and also the muse for my “Hank” stories in an upcoming book, has just submitted his latest fractured glass photograph to sell in our gallery. We have it on display currently in the lobby window. You will want to check this one out.

We are also proud to welcome painter John D. Westerhold to our gallery family. John has been featured several times in southwest art magazine, and we’re proud that his latest published painting Reflections of a Fat Boy is now on display in our window looking out to the street.

(Sorry about the reflections!) Reflections of a Fat Boy, Acrylic, 36 x 48″ $8500

It feels good to be in the Gallery again and blogging again. I’ll be here till we close around 9:00 tonight and will be around all day Saturday till our 9 p.m. closing.

Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

Continued Work on “Palimpsest”–Measure Twice. Cut Once

May 3, 2021



a manuscript or piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room.


Home again in Studio Eidolons, I’m finally rested and refreshed and ready to return to painting. I did maage to get some work done over the weekend in The Gallery at Redlands on this building I discovered in Little Rock, covered with ghost signs. I am thinking about titling it “Palimpsest” because the layers of signage from early 19th to mid-20th century remided me of my earlier years of seminary studies when poring over photo facsimiles of ancient biblical palimpsest pages.

Ghost signs have been my passion for many years, and my dear friends the Darrs just gave me a very fitting birthday gift, an out of print book, Ghost Signs: Brick wall Signs in America, by William Stage an amazing author and photographer with a background in philosophy. I am nearly finished reading the entire text and am deeply touched by this statement from art critic John Brod Peters:

On ancient, peeling brick walls, these fading signs are the dying whispers of another age.

Reading that, I felt the hairs raising on the nape of my neck. This particular building in Little Rock, Arkansas is the 1891 O’Bryan building. The orginal painted advertisements were covered by an adjoining building in 1915. When the newer building was torn down in the 1980’s, the ads were visible again. The Coca-Cola ad barely shows beneath the Tom Moore cigar ad.

Studio Eidolons in the Morning

The day in studio has been soothing, and the watercolor is now slowing down considerably. The old adage “Measure twice. Cut Once” is in play as I spend more time staring at every square inch of detail than actual painting. The mortar seams in the brick work are slowing me down as is the parking lot and sidewalk just barely begun. When I am this deep in a painting, I tend to tighten up and sometimes lose the freshness and spontaneity that I love to see. I’m glad there is no deadline for this piece.

Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

A late night in the gallery, with Henry Miller keeping me company…

April 16, 2021

For the record, I am not a surrealist. But my, oh my! Can Henry Miller soar into the stratosphere when he writes about the act of painting!

Surrealism is not a mode, a technique, an invention, a club, or an atelier, or a platform, or a fine sounding phrase. It is five minutes of eternity. Five minutes with the Holy Ghost. It is a little this side of Peru, or maybe three inches nearer. The square inch of the water color that you do with fever and intensity, unconsciously, accidentally, bravo and braggart, and humble son of God at the same time, all in one.

The ecstasy I feel when a watercolor is looking good under my gaze–I’ve never been able to speak or write adequately about how that feels. But Henry Miller encapsulated it while discussing surrealism. I just choose to file this under “ecstasy while making art.”

I spend too much time on the blog talking about how much this “clean, well-lighted place” (Hemingway) inspires me. I have not adequately informed interested readers that this lovely space has been thought out, organized and implemented by Sandi Jones, the better half of me. I’m just a painter and dreamer, with no clue of how to create space that the Danes describe as hygge. Sandi does that. My friends know that. It is past time for the readers to know it too. She also designed Studio Eidolons in our remodeled home. None of this would be happening without her.

The night has drawn quiet, as I now try and figure out whether I want to paint or continue to read and swoon over the writings of Henry Miller’s To Paint is to Love Again. Tough choice.

Thanks always for reading.

Serene Friday Evening Moments at the Gallery at Redlands

April 16, 2021
Friday evening work in progress

Some day I am going to own a few feet of earth somewhere and put a house over it. Just one big room will do, with a stove and a basin of water, a huge desk, a bookcase and an easel. Then life can go rolling by, and what floats in through my door will be sufficient for me.

I have seen enough. I want to express, to realize, henceforth. All the riches crowding into my brain day after day, and only little strings of sausage meat coming forth.

Henry Miller

This evening, while I worked on the watercolor, I received word from Stacy Campbell (one of The Twelve) that she is clearing everything out of her bedroom to create her own unique space, a muse-ic room. Stacy is a poet, musician and painter, and has come to the realization that she needs her own creative working space. I am vicariously enjoying her labor of love. As for me, my own Studio Eidolons at home two hours away is very special to me, and I miss it. But the space, lighting and vibe of The Gallery at Redlands makes creating here very special too. Thanks to the drafting table given by Tim and Patty, I have a special place to work here in Palestine.

Having said all of this, I laugh at those times when even the loveliest of creative spaces do not help us come forth with something of value. The second block quote above from Henry Miller made me laugh out loud. How many times do I find myself creating crap in my studio spaces and feeling unworthy of the rooms? I honestly think sometimes that there are hundreds of creative spirits in the neighborhood more deserving of such spaces. But I’ll still accept the spaces and try to do better!

By now, readers might be growing weary of seeing this ghost sign watercolor slowly, slowly materializing. Truth be told, I’m continually getting stuck on how exactly to proceed. Today has been mostly bare trees to the right and a long block of bricks down below. I always enjoy the process of making art, but oftentimes, like now, get a little tense when I feel something special may be eluding my grasp. We’ll see how this one comes along. If it doesn’t work out, there will be other chances.

Sandi and I will be here in the gallery till Sunday. A special shout-out to Paula Cadle, the potter among The Twelve–three of her new pieces brought in yesterday have found new homes! The gallery already misses their bright presence.

Thanks for reading.

I make art to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

Sunday Morning Musings from Studio Eidolons

April 11, 2021
Glad to be back in the Studio for some Quiet Restoration

. . . finding you were able to make something up; to create truly enough so that it made you happy to read it; and to do this every day you worked was something that gave a greater pleasure than any I had ever known.

Ernest Hemingway

Today is restoration day. Sandi and I received our second COVID vaccine shots yesterday and are happy to experience no unpleasant symptoms. We’ve just been on the go for several days and are glad now to stop for awhile.

I’ve resumed reading Carlos Baker’s Hemingway: The Writer as Artist. I love the quote above, and that general sentiment of the artist–creating something out of the void. My life has been enriched in recent years by a mix of painting and writing. Last weekend while in The Gallery at Redlands, I met an author who invited me to join their writers’ group that meets once a month. The next one won’t be until May, but I am already leaning forward with enthusiasm to gathering with these writers and finding ways to sharpen my own vision of what to do with my own practice.

My latest watercolor has laid dormant on my drafting table for twenty-four hours, and I intend today to give it my next push. I’ve gotten bogged down with the bricks and ghost signage, so I may decide to return to work on the trees awhile. We’ll see.

Planning today to return to the Ghost Sign watercolor

I look forward to participating in Artscape 2021 at the Dallas Aroboretum April 23-25. Last year was canceled due to COVID, but I understand that there will be 80+ artists participating this year. This festival has been one of the highlights of my annual art schedule before last year’s cancellations. I am excited to bring out quite a stack of framed watercolors that have not yet been seen by the public. I guess that’s one positive to address concerning the lost year during COVID.

A new Greeting Card for my Inventory

Hank Under Oklahoma Stars

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

Walt Whitman, “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer”

Reclining against his backpack, Hank savored the warmth of the fire that neutralized the chill of the October night. He had left Turvey’s Corner just this morning, but thanks to a pair of truckers, had managed to put nearly twelve hours between himself and the town he just left. Finding wide open plains west of the town of Vinita, he now rested his stiff body and gazed in wonder at the millions of stars filling the deep night sky.

The back of the Greeting Card (blank inside)

I have allowed my greeting card inventory to dwindle over the past couple of years. In The Gallery at Redlands, as well as my festival tent, I sell 5 x 7″ cards (blank inside) with my artwork on front and a descriptive text on back. They sell for $5 each, five for $20, and come with the proper envelope. A protective plastic envelope encases the assembly. Above is an example of one of my newest ones printed last week. Materials just arrived to print 250 new cards, so I’m excited to create new editions as well as replenish the ones sold out. Above is an example of one of my newest cards; below is a photo of another spread out.

(Cards are blank inside)

I’m ready to paint again. Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.