Hello out there..

Hi folks (if anyone is still out there)!  It's been a long time - I know.  No excuses.

Well, a few.

One of them is I've been working awfully hard at the day job - long, rewarding and challenging hours.  That plus other things means that generally I have had no time or energy to craft the kind of post that this Blog was used to.

So if you remember me and you are still here to drop in, I've started posting at Instagram.  It's easier. I just photograph the art with a sentence or two from my phone.  Of course I need the time to make the art.  Sigh.

If you were here for the writing, sorry, no time for that, for now.  Except at this very moment.

So here's a poem I wrote recently (makes reference to the day job and that is how all-consuming it all is.  And, spoiler, the job is not art-related).


Not

Not artist.  Not lawyer.
Not husband, not father or son.
Not writer or poet.
Not the skin, not the bones,
Not the guts in between.
What is there left when all is removed?
Maybe that is me..
Or perhaps it is not.


So if, like me, you now hang out at Instagram, I am @danhkent or https://www.instagram.com/danhkent/

I am excited and a little lost with all of the talent and creativity I am finding there.  Which is a good thing.  It is stirring the pot, which has been tepid for quite a while.  And that's a good thing.

Gazing West

Gazing West acrylic on 6" x 6" board

I admire the daily painters.  They pop out acceptable works of art on a daily basis - seemingly with no trouble.  They are efficient and competent. I'm thinking of painters like Carol Marine in Oregon.  She is a wonderful painter and I love her work.

I notice that many of the daily painters, especially at Carol Marine's Daily Paintworks website, do tiny paintings. 6" x 6" seemed to be a favorite size, so there was a time when I tried to do the same. But I could never pull anything off in a day.  I am too particular.

Take this piece, for example.  This was a bit of an experiment - abstract in acrylic on such a small scale. Unbidden there arose a theme.  It seemed like the west to me, because of the colors, and I saw figures and, yes, a dog.  None were intentionally painted.

I did that fairly quickly, and liked the result.

Then I took a photo.  Somehow in the photo there was more depth and it was warmer in tone.  I liked the photo better.  The painting looked insipid.

So I decided to give the board a glaze of a transparent rose tint in one fell swoop and .. I hated it! Panic.  Ruined! I thought.  I was wearing rose-colored glasses!  I was in a bordello!

I had erased all of the variance in color that had made it interesting.

So then I started bringing those colors back, through some repainting and lifting.  I worked on it over a span of days until finally I abandoned it, thoroughly disgusted.

I believe it was relegated to a drawer.  Then eventually a shelf.  I would walk by it and evaluate. And, you know?  This wasn't the first painting, that I liked.  It was not what I saw in the photo that I liked even better.  But I like it.  I like the result.

I am going to paint larger.  I think if, no matter the size, a painting takes forever, than I may as well paint in a size that the market considers to be valuable. But I know the truth.  There is value in a small painting too, even it takes forever to make.

Welcome 2015!

18, 32 41  ink and watercolor, 6" x 4"

I'm posting this tiny artwork that I made last night because it makes me feel happy, and happiness is something that has been lacking for much of the past year.  I've made other art and I've even scanned some, but I have not been able to bring myself to post of late.  I am unsure why.

Maybe this year I will correct that.  Perhaps I will post more in 2015.  Or maybe I will start a new blog instead - a fresh start for a new person - because I am changed.  Or I feel changed.  I am a darker self, less light than I used to be.  Or maybe I won't blog at all.

I really don't know.

And that is what the coming of 2015 feels like to me.  The direction of the year is uncertain, and that is unsettling, yes, but full of possibility too.  And I like the possibilities.

Best wishes for a happy and fulfilling 2015 - may all that you experience make you flourish and grow in color and in depth - like a painting in a master's hands.

Best Laid Plans

Best Laid Plans, acrylic on canvas, 14" x 18"

With the posting of this painting, my first impulse is to say, like William Kentridge ,  "My job is to make art - not sense."

But that wouldn't be quite true.  I almost always find meaning in my abstracts.  All I pay attention to as I paint them is the marks and colors and textures and shapes - yet meaning appears.  They make sense to me.

Go figure.

I'd say more, but I've decided not to.

What do you see?

And if you can't quite beam to wherever I'm at, never fear, I have some representational paintings in the works right now.

. .

I am working right now on three separate paintings, maybe four, depending upon how you count. Two are representational and very detailed.  So I needed a break.

A comic - just the thing!  A quick diversion.  And I'll try it in ink and watercolor this time, I thought, since the last was in black and white.

Dots!  How long could it take?

Well ignoring the quick story board which was dashed out in a flash, there was the measuring and drawing of the boxes; and then the writing and drawing itself  (I used mathematical calculations - yes math - to get the approximate proportions right because I liked my little storyboard so much). The drawing involved measuring to get the circles to be in about the same place for each frame and then eyeballing the sky to get the stars in approximately the same place in each frame.  Then there was inking and applying the masking fluid for the stars.  Then the watercolor, wet-on-wet on the top half, and drybrush over a wash in the lower half.  Finally, a touch of really awkward Photoshop-ing here and there for where that marvelously flowing watercolor went out of the lines.

Whew!  I figure about six hours.  Six!

Yup.  Call me speedy.

So, go Pamo!  (If you don't know what I'm talking about, see Pamo's twice-weekly strip here.  She's a pro.)  Me, I'm returning to painting to get a break!

Weepers

Weepers 8" x 10" watercolor on paper

Weepers howl and sway
No leaves anymore - no leaves
Upturned soil, hard rains

More scribblism

The Accident 5"x 7" ink and watercolor

Microscribblic 7" x 5" ink and watercolor

What can I say about these except that I am indulging all of my artistic impulses.  I've got to feed the muse!

The first one remained unfinished for a long time.  I began the "eruption" part and stopped before it became too regular and did not know what to do next.  Then, wouldn't you know, I had a dream.  In the dream I drew or made a ruler-straight segment with irregular notches in it.   Extending from the segment came a pipe-like structure that curved.  I knew I would have to use it somewhere, and last night I realized that this was the place.  Then I finished it up.

The second I drew a while back, and resisted coloring it. I still resist. I like it in black and white.  I was thinking of my oldest son's laboratory - he's a chemical engineer, working on his doctorate.  (Oh, sorry, that sounded like bragging and paternal pride - how on earth did that slip in?!)

On the Way to Somewhere

"On the Way to Somewhere"  14"x 14" acrylic on canvas

There are two family members that I always show my work to.

The first, my valued critic - who brutally tells it like it is every time, and so helps me improve my work - loved this one.  

The second, when I texted this image to her, did not respond for a good forty minutes.  When she finally did, it was with the word I was fully expecting.  "Interesting."  

She went on to say, "The man is scary looking.  Don't like this one as much as the one you gave me."  

She was referring to the other recent abstract that I posted in my June 29th post, here.  She loved that one. The funny thing is that my valued critic hated it.

So if I can imagine that each of these family critics represents 50% of the population, then I have 100% covered, don't you think?

Scattered

Well, once again I'm inspired to dabble in another side of art - webcomics.  Pamo has inspired me once again.  Visit her site if you have a chance.

This is a tryout.  I actually made it a bit too big to scan - so here's what the formatting looks like, snapped from my cell phone:

Every now and then, in between fine art works (at least I hope they're fine!) I may do a comic or two, and play with different styles, etc.  I have some ideas - this was, in my mind, the least funny of the lot (although hopefully still funny) so I figured I'd start here.  Hope you liked it!

I have another painting that needs an ever-so-minor touch-up first, that I'll post next.

The Summoning

5" x 7" ink and watercolor 

This started with random marks on the page.
Then it appeared to me that a person was there.

So I called to him with my brush and paints.

And there he was.

Gary

"An Ordinary Day" 6" x 6" acrylic on board

Periodically at this blog, when I comment on where I live I learn that folks have all kinds of fanciful images of Miami.

Here's one you might not have thought of.  I have peacocks strolling about my neighborhood.  One in particular - we call him Gary - hangs around at the end of our block.  He's a repeated source of delight.  No matter what I might be thinking about, when I see Gary I pause in wonder.

Not so this woman.  This painting is from a few photos I have taken, one of a woman at a bus stop, and one, of course, of Gary. I like the dichotomy.  The landscape is completely invented.  I learned a lot about composition with this one.

Inviting the Muse

"Wildflowers", acrylic on 20" x 16" canvas.

Here's what I've come to know:

When I paint, I must leave myself behind.  Only then will I be fully present.

And I must humbly welcome the muse each time I paint.   (I could feel her guiding me during the painting of this one.)  I cannot take her prisoner or she will inevitably escape.

That is all I know.

Thank you to Celeste Bergin and Belinda del Pesco, who both introduced me through their blogs to The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, an indispensable read for any artist.

And here is a shadow shot, for Shadow Shot Sunday:

Still in Abstract-Land..

"Unspoken Thoughts" 6" x 4" ink and watercolor on cold pressed paper

If you place a circle with a dot inside it into your piece, it is always Miro.  So there is a Miro "quote" here.  Take it away, and what do you have, Kandinsky?

Superb Advice on Artmaking for When You are in Doubt

[INITIAL NOTE:  The art above was created after all of the good advice below for the next page of my joint sketchbook with Raena.  It is also posted at our joint blog 2'nFro .  If you would like to comment on the art, please go to that blog to do so.   I'd love to know what you think.  And if you have input on the words in this post, please comment here at Dan's Canvas:  Have you had similar experiences?  What do you think of these artists' advice?]

*************

Pssst.  Here's a secret.  I've been in a bit of a funk, artwise.  I am trying new things.  They mostly aren't working.  It may be that I am in some kind of transition period.   That is the hope.

I was feeling a bit down about it and then, as often happens, the universe gathered to counsel me.

First I heard an interview with Thom Yorke of Radiohead here, and he was talking about how he creates.   To paraphrase as advice (and applying it to painting):

Paint to the spot in the middle of your head.  Do not consider merit, technique, goals, and the like.  Just paint.  You are just one of the latest of a vast family of artists in the history of man.  You are a pebble falling down a waterfall.

Then a quote on Belinda del Pesco's blog:

"If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), 'Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?' chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death." - Steven Pressfield

When I commented that I needed that quote about now, Belinda generously sent me an e-mail, and said:

".. I hope there is no doubt in your mind that you’re an artist, through and through. I read an excerpt from a book about creativity (of all types: writers, painters, musicians) and the common current in the blood of every artist is a heightened sense of *feeling*. Like a high-resolution sensitivity to beauty, sadness, elation, mood shifts in a room, light, color, aroma, sounds, etc. I see evidence of this in your work, and your words. Being an artist has nothing to do with output (although the same book talked about enormous satisfaction in the act of creating, like a release, in the same way a good cry makes us feel better), and it certainly shouldn’t be validated by modern measurements associated with financial or exhibit “success” in the art world. You’re an artist. Plain and Simple."

Wow.  Thank you so much, Belinda.

Then, finally, I was listening to the latest podcast of  Modern Art Notes, and learned about a letter that Sol Lewitt sent to Eva Hesse when she was feeling much the same.  Here is big chunk of it [warning for the easily offended: profanity and references to private body parts are a small part of this, but the words are so profound that you should read it anyway!]:

"..Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!

It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything."

Gentle Things and Hard Things

acrylic on 10" x 10" canvas

I'm posting this painting from last year as a form of "Hello", "I'm still here."  I don't think I am going to paint like this anymore, but who knows?  It's kind of tight, but there is something about it that I like anyway.  It's sitting on my shelf.

I've been doing all sorts of experimenting, mostly on a small scale, and working on a painting that has had me kind of obsessed.  In spare moments I've turned to it.  And there is not much yet to see.

I am becoming more and more dissatisfied with wholly representational painting.  Works by artists that are a successful amalgam of representation and abstract have fascinated me lately, and I am trying to see what I can do in that regard.  Abstracting reality may be an answer to my attempts to portray the real behind what we see.  I'd really like to avoid surrealism, but that seems to be what first occurs, an attempt to speak through symbolism.  I will have to let the process occur naturally, and see what happens.

As a casual aside, I've been playing with ink on yupo, hidden images.  One experiment was this, which felt a bit busy:

Ya think?!  Some might call it scribbling.

Then later there was this, on NOT (cold-pressed) watercolor paper:

Semi-controlled scribbling.

And then to this:

Watercolor and ink on NOT 7" x 5" paper

Yes, when I am wearing my fine art hat I am loopy, but my illustrator hat is still in tact.

Let's see what else have I been doing?  Oh,  I had a wrestling match with a flower, and the flower won.  It used to be that my favorite saying was, "The gentlest thing in the world overcomes the hardest thing in the world." from the Tao Te Ching.  Now I'm sure it's true.  And Lisa Daria makes it look so easy!

A Painting, a Challenge & a Shadow Shot

6" x 6" acrylic on board, an outdoor scene, derived from a friend's photo

Six months ago, a friend e-mailed me his photo of an outdoor scene.  "You should paint this :)," he wrote.  That was all.  This sort of directive is not characteristic.

It turns out that he stood in that place, and was greatly moved.  It was more than the scene, it was the feel of the place.


I could understand that.  This has happened to me so many times.  I remember stretching my arms outward at the woods and sky around me, overcome.  And the birds:  being captivated by song piercing the fresh morning silence, then witnessing an Eastern meadowlark on a stump singing in a vast field;  watching slack-jawed as a young eagle carrying a fish endured the high-speed pursuit of an osprey, eventually yielding its prey; strolling under a tree branch, feeling odd, then turning to encounter the learned scrutiny of a great horned owl.  And so on.

All from stepping outside and looking.


Even a walk outside, well within the confines of the city, reveals the beauty of nature. Look close, and there are textures,  patterns, and shapes to experience everywhere, courtesy of nature:

And personality too (for Shadow Shot Sunday):

So I painted my friend's scene - my first painting of 2014.  It is a small painting.  I was inspired, as always, by Leslie Saeta's Thirty Paintings in 30 Days challenge even though, again, I figure I will not have time.  She recommends painting small to accomplish the aim.  But I fuss too much on each painting, and spend far too much time on my blog posts.  I may need to do 1" x 1", you know?


I HAVE NEWS:  For the new year, the joint blog with Raena, 2'nFro, has returned!!  We are sending our sketchbook back and forth between Miami and Boise, 2,829.6 miles (but who's counting?) and collaborating on each and every page.  I have a new post - please come visit if you have time! I'd love to see you there!

Year-end Reflections

As the year passes
We speak with snowflakes, not words.
There are no words left.

"At First Glance #7", 5" x 7" ink and watercolor

***

Remembering Now,
Imagining seasons -
Images whisper.

 "Rituals" 8" x 6" watercolor

***

At each gathering,
A misty rain of color
That sometimes we see.
 

"The Gathering" 4" x 6" ink and watercolor

***

Now and then we park
And see passages beyond
The concrete and wire.

Parking Garage, 6" x 6" ink and watercolor

2,760 Miles

"The Friendly Wolf" 10" x 10" acrylic on canvas [Click on the image to enlarge.]

Okay, I hate to brag, but the average wolf does not migrate.  He might trek as far as 70 miles, following migratory prey, before he settles down again to join a pack, or establish his own new territory.

But this wolf has traveled 2,760 miles from Miami to a city north of Los Angeles.  He arrives today at his new home, hopefully in one piece.  He certainly should.  The bubble wrap is so thick that I could have used the wrapped canvas as a pillow and still not damaged it. 

Ah, the anxiety of shipment.

This was a commission, and a joy to do.  There is a lot of layering in this piece, and many colors.  In fact, the wolf had so many colors that at one point I had to put the canvas aside to decide what to do.  It was too much.  Eventually I knew what I needed, a transparent brown.  And lo and behold Winsor & Newton came out with a new color called, appropriately, Transparent Brown.  Voila!  It worked as advertised, to great effect.  And, like a few of my other paintings, I made liberal use of the rubber spatula tool towards the end.  So far, for me, it is much better than a palette knife.


One personal joy in painting this wolf was the knowledge that it is going to hang in the room of an autistic young man.  I hope that it brings him great pleasure.  I'm partial to the unique plight of autistic individuals because, as you may remember, my son is autistic.

And for the record, my son didn't show any interest at all in the wolf.  In fact he has never paid any attention to any of my art.  That is, until recently.   When he did, it was quite a surprise.  He walked to the dinner table carrying an illustration I'd done, saying, "Look! Look!" with a big smile on his face.  This is what he was carrying: 

10" x 13" Ink and watercolor

Sigh. 

From Darkness to Light

Here's a small painting of a lamp, that started out sedate and ordinary, and ended up like this.  Like a writer's character, sometimes the objects in a painting take over.

6" x 6" acrylic on board

As you know, there is so much to see everywhere and in everything.  Lately I've been snapping pictures with my phone at any place that these wonderful scenes emerge.  When I was a boy, I used a camera to snap pictures of trees and the sky and stuff.  Once, I remember, I put a drinking glass over the lens and snapped a shot.  I was told then by the adults around me that I should use the camera to take pictures of posed people instead.  That's when I laid the camera down.

I realize that I haven't changed much despite their best efforts.  Here is my contribution for Shadow Shot Sunday.

Taken during a morning jog

I've been restless with watercolors lately.  But some interesting things have come of it.  Like this:

8" x 10" watercolor on Daler Rowney NOT paper

I've also been discovering some interesting art blogs and podcasts on artists and the art scene.  Often they add fuel to the fire that consumes me.   Maybe you'll enjoy them too and like me, be educated, entertained, bemused, and confounded.  So check them out (but not before leaving a comment here, of course.)

I've been listening to the Modern Art Notes podcast for more than a year I think.  It is excellent.  http://manpodcast.com

A wonderful blog that has links to ever-changing art articles and criticism is Painter's Table at http://painters-table.com

From Painter's Table, I found about the podcast "ahtcast" which is far less polished than Modern Art Notes, but has artist interviews and is fun and interesting.  It is at http://www.ahtcast.com

A wonderful blog called "In the Make" features studio visits with west coast artists at http://inthemake.com

And from "ahtcast" I learned about a blog with videos of artists in their studios called "Gorky's Granddaughter" at http://www.gorkysgranddaughter.com

From there I learned that artists are a quirky bunch.  But you knew that already, didn't you?

My First "Real" Painting

Acrylic on 18" x 18" canvas; Tentative title: "Even if it Looks Blue" Click to enlarge.

1.  The other night I dreamed that I was a muscular super hero fighting powerful villains and everything was going okay until they released the mosquitoes.

*  *  *

I thought about easing back into these posts with some innocuous piece of art so as not to shock you with my latest work.  But I can't.  I cannot because, regardless of its merit or lack thereof, the painting above feels like my first real work.

It is a self-portrait, above, tentatively entitled "Even if it Looks Blue".  [Yes, I have grown a goatee; and yes, it grew in white.  And yes, I kinda like it.]

The painting is not meant to be all encompassing.  I am still cheerful, life-affirming, personable.  I am prone to humor and a smile.  I find wonder in the bark of a tree or the crack of a sidewalk.  I am still the same person you know.

Aren't tree roots beautiful?

But there is more.  This painting captures an unsettling time, and something of what is happening here, both inside and out.  It captures my essence, but not all of who I am, and only at a given moment, which may already have passed. 

*  *  *

2.  I'm in a different place, but I don't know where I am.

*  *  *

You may recall that a few posts ago I was wrestling with some frustration with my art.  I was concerned that by painting a person or an object, I could not capture its essence.  In many ways I was happy, such as with the painting below, when I tried a subject I knew that Diebenkorn painted a few times, a pair of scissors.  In that painting and others, I was able to work on technique and composition.  All of that was wonderful and still is.

But I wondered whether there was a way to show what I could perceive that exists beyond the object.  I wanted to find a reality beyond the simple portrayal of the object itself. That is still a goal of mine.  The self-portrait is my first attempt to do so.

Acrylic on 6" x 6" board

The self-portrait obviously contains some symbolic or abstract elements.  For weeks it was sitting on my easel without the shapes at the bottom of the canvas.  Some artist colleagues told me that the painting looked done to them.  But it seemed incomplete to me.  Weeks later those elements became essential additions.  And now, after an additional week of examining the work, I am satisfied.  I think.

The symbols have surface meanings and deeper meanings, some very personal.  They help to tell the full story.   Some of what I tried to incorporate were a mountain or volcano, and an eclipse or unsteady circle, as harbinger of change.  Those are the most evident elements.  More subtly, there is the curve which bears a resemblance to the ying and yang, though on its side.  They were intended as male and as female/creative elements. There is more that I intended. Of course, you may provide your own interpretation (psychoanalysis), but don't send me the bill.

*  *  *

3.  I sit on the cold bare floor.  I need only walk a few short steps to stand on the well-worn, ugly, blues-speckled rug, as before. 

I see only one other rug, frightfully far, but it reflects the light.  Sometimes it flashes all of the colors of the rainbow. 

I cannot tolerate the floor much longer.  It is much too cold.  And there are only two rugs.

*  *  *

Why would I paint a slice of myself?  It is much more effective in showing where I am, that any full image would have been.

A few weeks after I painted this, Hallie Farber posted an I-pad portrait at her blog with a wavy red line approaching the subject's head.  I commented to let her know that I had done the same thing in a self-portrait a few weeks before and that we were on the "same curvy red wavelength".  I wrote so that she would know that I had come up with the same idea independently.  She responded:

"Uh oh, Dan, not a good wavelength...  I'm seeing your painting in my head--electro shock treatment? One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a favorite movie."  

No Hallie, and no, dear reader, I am still sane.  So don't worry.  Dan hasn't lost it.  (Although I am now talking about myself in the third person).  It's nothing like that.  And I am within the normal realm of human behavior (or at least one of my personalities tells me so.)  But I am grateful that I can express in art what's so difficult to say in words.

Despite the lack of posts, I have been doing a bit of art and illustration, none of which is so psychological, or so dark.  There are still sketches in public, cartoony drawings, ink and watercolor,  representational art, and experiments.  And I want to share it all with you.  I need to post far more often, don't I?

I also expect to pursue this other path if the muse allows, but not always to dark places.  There is so much beauty beyond everything, that I hope to uncover that as well.  The only question is how.  That is my challenge and my joy.