Lately I have been beating myself up about my inferiority in this Blog world. There are so many fantastic writers out there. Two summers ago I took a creative writing class in our community college. I am learning to write fiction. My Blog is not yet revealing my dreams which are continuously proving to be quite intuitive and at times terrifying. I ran into my writing teacher on the downtown mall a few months ago; I was carrying a painting I had just finished of Wiley when he was a baby. I showed it to Mark, my teacher. He said, "I wish I could paint." I said, "I wish I could write." He did not suggest that I could, so. . . here is my most recent self portrait.
1 comment:
Stacy, you are a FINE writer. He was probably just mesmerized by your painting.
By the way, your paintings are toooo cool.
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