He was berating himself again, talking about how he was ugly and how no one would ever want him. She automatically looked up from the book she had bee... perusing. Sometimes she just wanted to smack him as hard as she could. Perhaps she would knock some sense into his head. Other times — Other times she just wanted to talk right over and kiss him firmly on the mouth. How she longed to shove his body down and climb atop his stunned and frozen form. She could feel herself already begin to tremble. Art was all about freeing your mind, experiencing the world visually, not just intellectually. Connecting more with your heart than your head.He spoke kindly, patiently to us little wannabe artists, some of whom probably couldn't draw a straight line. He seemed to want to encourage everyone to do their best, whatever that might be. Even the lost lambs like me, trying to figure out who we were and what we wanted from our empty lives, received his full and courteous attention.I went home from the. More

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