Art Has To Move You And Design

On The 31st Of October 2011 Year, I Had A Mini-stroke. I Couldn't Finish My Sentences. So I Went To The Doctor. It Was A Tiny One. The Speech Came Back In A Month Or So. I Did Notice I Could Draw Even Better, I Felt. I Was Concentrating More. And I Wasn't Talking Much, But I Was Drawing. I Said, "well, I Don't Have To Talk Much."

My Only Worry Is The Painting I'm Doing. Nothing Else.

You Would Think Death Was An Optional Extra Nowadays. Nobody Wants To Tick That Box.

People From The Village Come Up And Tease Me: 'we Hear You've Started Drawing On Your Telephone.' And I Tell Them, 'well, No, Actually, It's Just That Occasionally I Speak On My Sketch Pad,'

I Had Always Planned To Make A Large Painting Of The Early Spring, When The First Leaves Are At The Bottom Of The Trees, And They Seem To Float In Space In A Wonderful Way. But The Arrival Of Spring Can't Be Done In One Picture.