Allow Me to Explain
I'm a painter. An artist. I draw, paint, sketch, doodle and render. I use oils, acrylic, pencil, charcoal and other art stuff.
I say all that because some people get confused when I say "I am a painter."
I have just returned from living in Benicia, CA to live and work again in Carlsbad, CA, and when I was living in Carlsbad previously, I was talking to the owner of a gift basket service in this area who makes lovely gifts out of just about anything people bring to him. He adds colored straw or shredded paper, flowers, candy, a card, and all the other items you bring him, and then shrink-wraps everything into a lovely presentation.
I commented "How nice to make a living doing something so unique and creative," to which he commented, "Yesand it's instant validation!"
"I can relate," I said. "I'm a painter."
"Wonderful!" he began. "You could bring me one of your one-gallon paint cans and I could make a lovely gift for someone!"
"Right..." I said, looking elsewhere in the store with my eyebrows raised, thinking "He hasn't a clue, does he?"
But, enough about him. Let's talk about me.
To the left is a picture of me taking myself too seriously. You have to have pictures like this when you're an artist.
It's the law.
I call it my "You can tell I'm an artist just by looking at me" picture. Isn't it moody, serious, mysterious and enigmatic, suggesting by inference a darker, pain-filled existence dwelling just below the surface?
If it looks that way to you, then it's a successful artist picture, but that's not me.
But for a few of my nearly 60 years, I have been a Southern California native all my life. Only recently, I spent a few years in San Jose, and Benicia, CA.