Dreaming In Color
....one wooden easel,
to cradle a dream at birth,
my mind waunders on….
And so the story ever goes on or might I say, the rest of the story. Whether out in the woods or in my house, I have a need to create art and this feeling of art is much like a beast breathing down my neck, inducing me to produce. Produce….create….offer; live or whither up and die, can all much be written as the same definition. One can live and so you create a space to inhabit within art, but is there any difference noted, that when one dies….they also give an offering to art.
Tools of my trade….one to work the wood and one made of wood to hold some articles of detail and then there’s one of oak, hand made to sketch a design….
....the rest of the story? Well that one will have to wait some, since I’m off to dream in red….
’’....work smart, work safe, and live, to work the wood....’‘
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/