I see people in galleries who get so mad.
Where’s the talent in that? they ask.
My 7 year old could paint that.
I want to buy them coffee (or a scotch), and point out how lucky they are to have a 7 year old who still can, but I never do, because I know it won’t be long before their 7 year old truly can’t, not after hearing so much NO DON’T! scorn in their parents’ voices.
Friday evening: Wrote poetry
Very early Saturday morning: Wrote fiction
Saturday morning: Wrote nonfiction
Saturday afternoon: Visited two art galleries
Sunday: Painted and sketched
The Final Breath of the World’s Greatest Free Diver, Natalia Molchanova
I remember once telling a writer all sorts of things about a story of mine he had just finished reading. His reply? “So what?” With that in mind…
Face: Ink and acrylic on board. About the size of an index card, mounted as the top of a box.
The Final Breath of the World’s Greatest Free Diver, Natalia Molchanova. Yes, she really was, and yes, unfortunately, she really did. Acrylic on canvas. Footnote: I tried to take this painting to the next level after photographing it. Ironically, perhaps, the painting did not survive.
Found on the ground, then taped to a window and lit by the sun. No special camera, no special lens. Warning! Kids, please try this one at home only without parental supervision.