Winter has laid it's foggy blanket down in Portland, rendering me guiltless when it comes to hiding indoors. One space at a time I am shifting through and organizing all the things I tend to leave unchecked. And from all this mindful organization spouts new inspiration. I sometimes unearth my love, dust it off and learn to feel again. I am a collector of things. I feel I am better at this than almost anything else. I am preserver of things and I am best at this most of all. I like it as my hobby and not my job. I like taking pieces of painted paper and bringing them to life, giving them air to breathe and an environment to surround them in beauty...an equal match of form and function. It's hard to hold onto admired paintings and then let them go back to their original owners. But it is better to have loved and lost art then to never have loved art at all right? Grateful to have framed this lovely Matt Howse flash for a good friend... give it a home. But it's like a brief romance to have it in my hands, to love it, and then having to let it go. I have plenty in my own collection (Jeff Gogue, Chris Con, Robert Ryan, R. H. Wells) ...but never enough it seems. No, never enough.
