A weekend spent painting my bedroom in 2008 triggered a memory that had been dormant for more than 20 years. The sound of the brush on the wall, the feel of the spring of the bristles brought a flood of sense memory from my high school art classes. I bought some pencils and sketchbook the following week.
In the years that have passed, I’ve struggled to find the time and energy to develop as an artist, to overcome resistance, and to keep my enthusiasm when I hit the inevitable plateaus on the path to mastery.
This blog chronicles my journey.