The Absent Minded Artist

It is 3:00 in the morning and I have never been more exhilaratingly happy. It is that pure joy that is so often difficult to find, when the world is asleep. With that simple knowledge you can hop down the unfathomable rabbit hole that is your mind and get carried away into corners that you can't possibly find when your phone is buzzing, people are chatting, and the worries of the day eat at you. 

My philosophy has always been that in order to know yourself you need those moments, those moments where you are alone with your mind, strolling down the boulevards of the cerebellum to really think about the essence of you. It may be the most important part of your day.

The Lost Hours

TRand working on a grid portrait of Zinadine Zidane, 2016

And this, my friends, is when I get my finest painting done. Some cultures claim that a great spirit is conveying a message through the artist's hand and while I do not necessarily believe I am an instrument of the gods, I do believe that it is possible to concentrate on something so intensely that you no longer feel like yourself. You're lost. Things that mattered no longer hold sway and the only way to satiate that thirst is to forge onward in the hopes that at the end of the road, you've created something beautiful, something honest, something worth remembering, and know you've made it to the truth.

Time stands still, the canvas complete.