First Bike
Generation after generation, we all relive the first bike we owned through our children, watching th...

This is an untitled piece I never liked that much, but several people have told me what they like about it - the subtle way the golds and greens are reflected across the river, the fine lines in the rocks reminiscent of Pitre, the talk of spring and mist and fog and newness.
Why it has escaped the purging bonfires, and why I keep it, is if you haven't noticed, many of my paintings are completed on New Years Day, year after year. This, I think, is the earliest of those, painted on New Years Day 1993. I'm not sure why I'm always painting on New Years Day but happy that I am.
Generation after generation, we all relive the first bike we owned through our children, watching th...
Perched at the most southern end of San Diego, with the view of the Silver Strand and Tijuana to the...
On July, 1, 2015, an American dentist from Minnesota, Walter James Palmer, and local hunting guides ...
There is nothing like this feeling. The wind in your face, the weight of your ride held high over yo...