The basis of my art direction appears to be a racetrack that hums, and picks up momentum as it continues shrieking and screeching till it hovers over a small expanse that has grinded to a halt. Always too much is going on, I don’t have a regular outside job but my art practice is a demanding employer.
My paintings became so complex that I needed to write out a road map so the viewer would benefit from every nuance and suggestive hint. My writing later flowed into a daily blogging practice.
I began to feel the urgency to parlay with my readers. I had a following of gifted readers, writers showing me their gifts. The world became exciting again as I left the solitude of endless hours painting about the injustices I was discovering. Now I could write about them.
Then they found lung cancer, I survived the surgery and three years later it returned in my other lung. After my second lung cancer operation, I decided it was time to become a singer, my secret joy that I had pushed away.
I wrote a few songs that now described my paintings and surprised my audience when I sang them at art openings. Thankfully they loved it.