This journal entry from my father is such a personal story of an artist’s discouragement; it is from the artist journal of my late father. This is poignant for me as it echoes the places I enter in my own work; that struggle for vision.
This journal entry from my father is such a personal story of an artist’s discouragement; it is from the artist journal of my late father. This is poignant for me as it echoes the places I enter in my own work; that struggle for vision.
When Spring arrives, my thoughts turn more and more to the colors outside, rather than the deep memory colors from midwinter. The sun, the spring
Light. I have been doing a lot of thinking about light and darkness, contemplation, placements, and the moon, particularly in the closing of this balsamic