Whenever I paint, each brushstroke creates a memory. It records the place, the sounds, the scents and everything else I’m experiencing during that moment I’m making the art.
Tonight, it is the beautiful and relaxed conversation with Mommy and Daddy as I held the phone to my ear with my left hand and painted this with my right. The memory as always having the potential to be more beautiful than the final piece. And oh, tonight too, the smell of my coffee painting reminded me of soy-marinated fried pork chops.
Which is odd, but oddly not odd to me.