My mother is a fine artist. I loved her studio, and marveled at the works she always had in progress. When age overwhelmed her skills, she gave me her oil paints and a stockpile of brushes that would make an art supply store envious. When we’re holed up somewhere, I sometimes turn the pilothouse into a little studio, and attempt to capture scenes that captured me.
Click on an image below to get a better look.
