painted at the old edison inn, photo courtesy of ryan's smartphone

i paint one painting a day.  i paint for a living.  i don't just do it for fun.  i do it because i have to.  and when i say living, i don't just mean just for money.  i paint because that's what i was born to do.  i paint because that's my purpose.  before i could talk, my mother stuck a crayon in my hand.  art was what my mother did for a living, too.  she trusted me with her supplies, tools for the craft, and set me off on an adventure of self-expression that was more open ended with possibility than anything i had ever tried, or anything i've since experienced.   art was comfort, art was safety, art was the power of creation.  my mother was talented, born that way, with art in her blood, making drawings over and over again, because as a young girl she discovered: she was good at it.  succeed, repeat.  as her daughter, i too discovered the artist inside. we each have one. i am lucky to have grown close with mine, to have nurtured mine.  i have learned to live and breathe with artful purpose behind everything i do.  now that my mother is gone, i know that without art, life would be empty.  so i paint for life.  i paint to keep going.

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