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.  

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About gary

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