I am not a schooled artist, but I play one on TV...

Someone asked me this weekend if I went to art school. I answered no. Onaccounta I din’t. I guess my talent comes naturally, and has been born of practice and vision and intent. Much less expensive than art school. I wish, sometimes, that I had gone to school for the sole purpose of honing my skill. Some inner censor tells me (in my mothers voice, of course) that I could and would *never* make a living as an artist. Despite the fact that my father attended both Harvard AND Columbia, studying art and business , in that order, he never made money painting.

But, as I sit here, I have a painting he did in Mexico in 1944, a rather nice one, and I think to myself that perhaps one day my own child will want to put some of my art on her wall somewhere.

When I really think about it, my art is more about living than getting. I prefer to be understood and known than rich and famous. I would rather be seen in a gallery than begged to drag my muse out of her sleep to perform for money. Sure, sometimes I have fantasies about being Good Enough to be wanted by some collector, or someone who seeks to surround themselves with beauty and grace and humor and color...Who knows, maybe one day my words will be published somewhere other than here, and my art may adorn the white walls of some studio space or gallery. I will sip some wine, eat some grapes and speak of my motivations with people who ask.

But, for now, I just draw and paint, print and shoot, write and ponder and spew here. Where no one asks me if I went to art school. I do wish more people would stop by here, though. Sometimes I see and hear only my own echo. At least I like the sight and sound of it. And, I pay myself well.