Painting with a big brush and lots of paint

My first word was moon.My father took me to the back step almost nightly and pointed to the sky, showing me the shimmering disk high in the heavens. It's my father's fault I am an artist.

The rolling, turbulent skies of the west captivate me, an hold my creative monster longer than any other muse. The sky haunts me, distracts me, controls me, and beckons to me. My wife loves to talk as we drive down the road. She doesn't know about my mistress.

As an artist I receive compliments about my skies, but I still struggle to capture what I see.

Take a moment to look at the canvases of the sky.

JR Monks