Implicit self art

Over the many years I have traveled as a photographer and writer, I still felt there was more each photo I took and each story I lived, had within it. I have always been drawn to art and it was apparently my favorite form of “playtime” as a child. I had little supervision during that time and as a young child I always used it to draw. It was rarely appreciated, even at school despite some of my drawings and portraits being more nuanced than my classmates, generally, our art teacher reserved the A’s for others, and my parents believed the art teacher and I believed them all and decided it was perhaps not something I should pursue, even as a serious hobby.

However, I find myself today with my treasured photos and acrylic paints, recently acquired soft oil pastels (Sennelier’s are to die for, if one can learn to use them for detailed work as I have), color pencils. Being in Bartlesville with limited social activities and flexible work schedule, somehow I went back to my old love. And now I have many paintings of nature, birds, flowers and a few portraits: all inspired by my original photographs and I feel this is how my photos teach me more, I see every feather, ever indentation in the bill of a wild bird I shot, every swirl in a petal and its complex colors and relive the beauty of the moment and the story.

The photos are professional (and mine), the worth of the art work is what you decide it should be, but the photos of the art work are generally from my iPhoneX and not professional quality. I am quite open to people using my photographs, as I believe any, or perhaps MANY not just any, professional photographer could have taken them, but my art work is much more personal and I am not so willing to share those without credit.