The Victorian farmhouse is empty, devoid of intruders. Absent are the giggling children, the whining children, the rambunctious sounds of play or discontent. No demands for attention from the mate. It’s almost completely silent, truly a rare, blissful moment that must be recorded. The television in the nearby room sits blankly, its screen reflecting only the windows across the way. The invasion of stimuli quelled with the push of a button. There is no radio, or radio announce

Another place I use to spend time writing was in a few different online Art forums. There was a person there that I often became...

"Ressurection I" After a tumultuous period of loss, both personal (the death of my father followed closely by the death of my mother) and...

Recently I had someone ask why I titled my most recent commissioned painting, "Ghost Notes" and it occurred to me that this might be an...

If you are lucky enough to live to be 100 you will only get about 5,217 weeks, 1,199 months, or 36,500 days to experience whatever life...

If you've never heard of this "theory" before I assure you that you are very familiar with it. Basically it relates to the psychology of...

Every day above ground is an opportunity to produce a tangible remnant of that day. Personal creative productivity truly is where...

There is absolutely no better way to become the best version of yourself than to follow your creative desires. Within thoses tid-bits of...