Married to an artist, OR Oedipus lost
My wife is an artist. I'm obviously highly biased, but I think she is a very good artist. I present as evidence her picture of my brother-in-law. I doubt that any of you know him, but if you did, you would realize that THAT is Mark.
Her passion for painting is as evident as a blogger in a coffeehouse and that the coffee in that coffeehouse is often stimulating.
My father was an art teacher. He wasn't a great artist, but he was an amazing teacher. His passion for the power of art and the effects of art on our hearts and minds still reverberate in the lives of literally thousands of students (including me) even though he has been dead for nearly twenty years.
Maybe I was too close to the artistic forest, or perhaps there is a gaping laguna in my logic lodes, but it wasn't until about five years ago (after being married for 23 years) when I was reading this book called 'Wild at Heart' that I had a honest-to-God ephiphany. I had married my dad!!
Sorry, mom.
