When my dad died a lot of songs came, and they're still coming.
What the market is doing is going through a correction, which it really needed. It's getting down to where it's reasonable.
When I paint to please other people I tend to lose the free spirit creative edge.
I can't imagine not having a dog as a companion. They know when it's play time or walking time and they know when it is working time and they are content to catch up on their sleep knowing you are close by.
I put myself in the student's place and remember the frustrations, doubts, determination, and desires I felt when I was going through the initial learning process. The things we now do automatically, such as perspective, pencil control, values and composition were as unfamiliar and intimidating as a foreign language.
There are only so many hilarious actors so when they cross-pollinate, people assume it's always the same actors and directors.
I closed my eyes and listened to the occasional chirps of tiny birds hidden in the trees around us, the bubbling of water over rocks down below, cicadas rattling a chorus off in the distance. All sounds of the world carrying on like it always had. So much could change or be lost, and still, the rest of the world went on like it was nothing. It didn't seem wrong, but it didn't seem right either. I'd gone on today like it was nothing. I'd laughed and felt happy and forgotten for a little while that this was now a world without my brother in it.
Every piece of writing I've done has been something where I feel like I need to get this out of me, whether it's a seed of something personal or an anxiety that turns into a play or an image that's in my mind and haunts me that I'm trying to investigate.
I'm convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere.