I painted last night.
Then I wrote.
Ended up sleeping late.
You know, sometimes even I don't understand myself. But when I paint, it's like
I get transported to a place
that has direction, purpose
and I'm engaged in all of it.
Going to where my heart is,
it's a quiet, solitary place, but so very beautiful.
People find reason to live. My reason comes from
knowing that my work can generate an emotional
response in others.
To know they find a foundation for their emotions by something I've painted is reason enough
to keep painting, no matter how strenuous
no matter how difficult.
