Married to my Muse. Let’s call him Doug.

A tricky relationship with my life’s purpose.

Me and the good muse Faun in 2014

Where did my fickle muse go? I stare at a half-finished painting going nowhere. Several others very much like it are stacked against the wall. This painting started out promising, but had drifted in yet another mundane direction — like I’m trying to find a freeway on ramp, but keep driving in circles of cul de sacs —…