Art
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Capitalism killed the artistSo they could sell the corpse.They pick it apart, piece by piece,Like chop-shop scavengers. Then they reassemble it,A mockery of the artist’s work. A hapless thing they forced into life,A Frankenstein’s monster.
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My dad told me that my paintings remind him of Van Gogh. My dad knows nothing about art, and Van Gogh is probably the only artist he knows. I am also his youngest daughter, so paternal pride likely plays a role in his praise. I know all this, and yet the compliment made me happy,
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Since the pandemic started early last spring, it seems that everyone has picked up a new, creative hobby. Suddenly everyone is baking, book binding, woodworking, painting, sewing, and more. With anxiety thick in the air, uncertainty lurking around every corner, and far more time than we know what to do with, it seems that everyone
Bringing Mae Flowers 