Monday, December 1, 2008
As I was going through my mother's belongings, I found this painting tucked away. I painted it when I was seventeen, in the infancy stages of my painting. I think all artists evolve pretty much the same. We begin as cameras, reproducing every leaf, every rock, every tiny detail. As we progress, we realize we are not cameras, but poets. Then the artistic journey really begins.
Funny, I remember exactly where I painted this and the silly high school tramas that were going on at the time. I was painting with oils here. The allergies didn't hit me until years later.