Down with cold, back to the easel I go.
Today, in desperation to beat the gremlins and do something fun, I grabbed a black & white sketch I'd done a few months ago, while I was reading all about the Wyeths, and made a painting of it. Is it finished? Probably not; and possibly as much as it will ever be. Such admiration I have had for decades for this man's art. With respect and homage, Andrew Wyeth:
5"x7" oils. Very limited (lazy) palette. Fun though.
After watching the Lakers fall to Kevin Garnett, and fixing and enjoying a chicken dinner, I'll turn into a writer. The challenge is to write the first line of a romance novel. Then of a mystery. Then of a horror story. Then of a suspense tale. And then of a Western. Should be fun. Whyn't you try it too?
