The Artist

I grew up in a working-class Irish family where art wasn’t considered a career—it was a luxury. I stopped drawing when I was four and a half, the day I first went to school. For fifty years, I carried images inside me without a language to express them.

At fifty-eight, I began to draw again—awkwardly at first, like a child learning to speak after years of silence. What emerged surprised me: color that felt alive, lines that carried feeling more than reason.

Read more...