From Ashes to Art Shows

My heartbeat and my art career slowed down after the Help-a-Horse event in Ojai in June 2018… for a few months anyway. Suddenly, everything leaped ahead. Three shows lined up all at once: One only a few blocks from my house Downtown LA, at an event called “Art and Beer”, where they had art … and beer … and… Beverly Hills. Yeah, that Beverly Hills. Only five shows in and I felt like I was hitting the big time. Then HE sauntered in. “He” was nobody I knew, but he knew people I knew… or at least we had mutual...

“Do you draw horses?” she asked while perusing my booth at my first art show. (No… I mean, I dunno… I never tried… maybe…) “Sure!” I enthused! “Do you have any here?” she asked, while looking over my shoulder. (NO… Of course not… OMG… wait, what if I can’t draw horses??) “Not here, but I certainly can draw them,” I smiled confidently. “Great!” She exclaimed, “We have a horse show up in Ojai in June, come on up!” (Wait, you don’t want to see something first? I mean, what if I really can’t… I mean, I’ve never…) “Sure!” (OMG, what...

Anyone who has true friends is very lucky. If you’re extremely blessed, you get to have your Guardian Angel as a best friend too. Such is Missy, who appears in my life like a thread that has been binding and shaping my life for decades (don’t worry, dawl, I won’t tell ‘em how many) But let’s just say that she’s played a leading role in every part of my life. Not a single piece of it would be the same had she met Clarence and wished she was never born. It’s truly been a wonderful life, thanks to my angel....

Life is relative. We often define who we are in relations to other people. So what happens when that person (or place, or pet) is gone? Who are we? That was the biggest question in April of 2018. I became an orphan. I lost a child and a beloved pet. I was a single dad, hanging on as best I could for a 12-year-old, who already showed signs of becoming a teenager. I had trusted the wrong people. I made mistakes. A dear friend calls them “Killer Bees.” When I finally paid attention (i.e., when life slapped me across the...

While I didn’t put my conscious thought into the choices of symbols, the subconscious connection to each piece was deeply significant. Each one had STORIES to tell, not just a story. They needed to be with me on the mountaintop… and I needed to let them go. I carried them in my son’s backpack, along with some art supplies and a sandwich I picked up at a store at the beginning of the road that led to where I stood. I didn’t just take them out and toss them over. I paused a while with each one, embracing each memory…...