Searching for Fairies
A friend posted this on Facebook and I told her, "I simply must paint this." So I did. The...
The funny thing about this painting is this was the visualization I had of the first house I owned, a nearly dilapidated post-war house in Grants Pass, Oregon. A mean oak tree had buckled the driveway, lifing it three feet from the ground, and threatened the converted garage foundation, there was nothing but a three step stoop, by the front door, and the door was actually a delaminated mahogany interior door that was thin as paper.
Two years later it looked almost exactly like this, without the driveway slab but with a square step, rail, and porch railing, every brick carefully laid by my own hand.
A friend posted this on Facebook and I told her, "I simply must paint this." So I did. The...
Humans have always tried to make sense of the random firing of synapses that occurs when we sleep an...
In 1995, a car accident left Pascale Honore paraplegic. She would watch her son and his friends surf...
As you grow older, things and money and earthly pleasures begin to lose meaning. You begin to unders...