My life took a different branch several decades ago, and I never became the artist I wanted to be. Art became an occasional thing and my skills became rusty. My family, however, still believes in me. My sister gave me this book a few months after my mom started chemo, and I submit this for them as much as it is a reminder that I need to rekindle my artistic side again. I approached this as I would a real personal sketchbook--using random materials and scrawling whatever thoughts occurred to be as I draw. My mother died about a month ago, and I lost my desire to finish my original plan. And so my book changes tone toward the end as death becomes personal and hard to ignore.
Library Call Number: 351.10-9
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