Inspiration struck during a bout of boredom in the wee hours of the morning. I sat at my art station staring at a canvas that a few days ago I washed in a coat of burnt umber. When I washed the canvas, I did have an idea, but I really need to start writing those idea’s down as they come to me as I have a tendency of forgetting what that idea was. I started to look at my right hand, examining my flesh and the structure of my hand. My age spots, my fingernails, the lines on my hand, I placed my hand on the canvas and traced its outline. I started to layer the paint and layer the colors, methodically and deliberately building up the texture and the colors.
There it was an abstract of,
“My Right Hand”

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