Looking back over the past several years of picture making it’s easy to see a pattern of ups and downs in my images, of cools and warms, of dim expressionless faces, formally presented in a mature and careful gray only to be followed by sun-lit periods of young and glowing toothy smiles. My diaries put this emotional see-saw into words – but I find that my pictures are a lot more fun to look at. My God! Could it be…I think it could…I’m only human after all.

Inspiration is a mysterious thing that comes and goes seemingly of it’s own accord. Somehow it magically allows you to work at a higher level. Officially, Inspiration (according to the Greeks – let’s go to source here) descends onto us mere mortals via a direct message (wait, they had twitter? – huh? ) from Apollo or Dionysus (The party God that makes you say, “I’m so drunk and I have the most amazing idea for some art right now”) or via a muse. The muses were sort of like ancient Halstonettes that would appear out of clouds of smoke from invisible smoke machines in order to get your artistic juices flowing. Usually they did this in flowey layered chiffon numbers a la Halston. There were nine of these girls, let’s see, there was Calliope, Terpsichore, then there was…the red headed one, and then blah-badee-blah and the tall one with the nose, and well whoever the rest were they were all totally gorgeous, but the most fabulous and inspiring of all the muses was called Pat Cleveland. That’s it basically it in a nutshell – a little ancient history there for you, kids. But the thing about inspiration is that these days, you never know who is going to let it loose on you. The muse thing is a very equal opportunity type of mystical occupation now-a-days.  Example: James. He was trouble, but I have to admit –  he really could inspire…

Go for it when it strikes – cause it sure don’t last.