of leaves

Every Sunday morning in recent memory I go to Duck Inn right when they open at 10:30am. I sit at the bar with whatever I’m reading and my sketchbook. They put in my food order without asking: sunnyside-up eggs, grits, collards, and toast with butter, hold the jam. A couple bloody marys, one or twoContinue reading “of leaves”

Empty Promises

At the bar, I’m looking at a just-installed show of collaborative paintings, wondering aloud to a friend how it can even be possible to let anyone else anywhere near your own canvas. It’s never ever occurred to me to do that. Within that rectangle no one’s hand but mine has ever been allowed so muchContinue reading “Empty Promises”


One of the happy rediscoveries of painting on the sidewalk and in the alley around my house is how transitory and unstable even the most mundane, unremarkable view can be. One day the neighbor’s back gate is open so I can see all the way down the gangway between houses to the next street. WhenContinue reading “Pedestrian”