My Children

I have started thinking of my art as my Children. I am anthropomorphazing everything.  I guess this happens when you go through life without children. Pets, plants stuffed animals,  now paintings. I pour the paint and watch the paint grow, change, thrive or fail. I feel like a proud parent when my babies bloom and I want to cry when they screw up. As any parent knows it's not the child's fault when they fail it's theirs. The constant worry over their life. Will my art make it through the drying period unscathed by dust, falling particles,  the temperature and my favorite,  tiny flying insects that for some reason are not smart enough to not settle in a perfect puddle of my artwork. You try everything you can to protect your art so that one day it can graduate and live in a beautiful gold frame sitting upon a spacious white wall just waiting to be adorned. An artists dream!