living with an artist, part 11

when she was a little girl, it was a pencil and a box of crayons. these days, it’s a guerrilla box of her beloved oils and a taxidermy bag of spray paint. but the game is the same. still searching, discovering, unlocking doors. i finally understand that you don’t choose to be an artist. it’s just who you are. i’m lucky to share the adventure.  

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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