Only a Handful of Monumental Art Cycles For a few years in the early 1980s, I lived in Staten Island, walking distance from the Staten Island Ferry. Whenever I wanted to take a break from painting, I would hop on the ferry, with its spectacular view of Manhattan, nearly brushing against the Statue of Liberty …
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Memoir: Chapter 16, Navigating LA (Part 1)
An Art Memoir: Depth, Light, and Love I was pedaling my bike up a small hill on a narrow, beat-up asphalt road—this was LA, and I didn’t own a car. The sky was clear, cerulean blue, and the bright California sun shimmered through eucalyptus leaves, casting dappled light on me, the green hedges that lined …
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