I grew up on a small family farm in Ohio. I am proud of that. My dad taught us all kinds of things that country folk know. How to shoot guns, how to grow stuff in a garden, keep chickens, go coon hunting on school nights. It was a different time. And I think that I heavily romanticize it when I think back to it. But I miss my dad. I miss the good stuff. One of the things that makes me really get lost in reminiscing is the words and music of William Elliott Whitmore. The man is a musical gem yet to be discovered by so many. But he sings a lot about loss, and living your life authentically. Being you is the most important thing you can do. Today I am ordering my mom his latest CD ‘Field Song’. I believe it is his best work yet. And it makes me think about my dad, my own attachment to suffering, and life. I hope it has the same effect on my mom. She sure could use a few nice gifts these days.
This is a drawing/painting of a raccoon skull. I never shot one myself but my dad did. And I was with him more than a few times when it happened. It was just part of my life as a kid. There was no cruelty to animals, or what have you…it was 100% adventure. Going off to the woods in the middle of the night…listening to the dogs chase raccoons, flashlights, campfires, and darkness. I want to illustrate more of this time in my life. The stories are already written….I just need to retell them in my art.