Saturday, February 12, 2011


Sometimes I cry. I saw his gift as an artist. Bought his Red Painting for a pittance. Painting style uniquely his. A canvas filled with the deepest red you've ever seen. And in that red a face in a darker shade of red; Sometimes a sad face, haunted, filled with pain, sometimes an angry face filled with hate; the painting always a mirror that reflects our mood. A masterpiece in red. Yet he put art aside so he could become a salesman; not a salesman and an artist, mind you. A full time, all of his time salesman. Last I heard he was doing well as a salesman. I'm glad he's successful; yet sometimes I cry; because I know that somewhere in his soul, hidden in a dark corner, in a cell sits a great artist who also cries.

1 comment:

  1. Wow.

    Very moving.

    This is something I have thought about when the artistic struggle became too great. But it is like you said, rephrased, "Why not both?"

    Best, Rick