Man on the Bench in the Attic
I believe God finds his way into my studio at times. He visits me. He holds me. I kiss his feet. To tell you the truth, I sometimes think of my studio as a sanctuary, as a place of hiding and healing and at times, yes, horror and cries from hell. For most of the time I feel whole when I am resting, painting, reading or sketching in there. Sometimes I am distracted by areas left unpainted, stealing me away from my studies.