School
I was several days into working on my current painting, a duplicate of a Claude Monet seascape, an exercise which was intended to provide hands-on experience with that artist’s application technique. Professor Blackburn quietly slipped behind and observed me for several moments. He broke the silence by talking to
School
I got home from school, went straight into my dad’s office, and fired up his computer. Within moments, the system was up. A few swift keyboard commands fired up the internal modem. And chirps and clicks of static noise confirmed a successful connection to one of the many bulletin
School
Nearly every summer in college, I worked on a crew of conference assistants. Our job was to prepare the dorms for the presence of different summer camps, ranging from prepubescent cheerleaders to over-singing barber shop quartets. It involved a lot of cleaning, moving of supplies, and sweat in between. Mostly,
School
Although this story is ancient, it’s received a fair number of encores over the past few months. And it’s appropriate to tell again, since some of these same thoughts and experiences are being relived, not just by me but by some of my more artistically-tuned friends. In retrospect,
School
Back in the day, I had grand dreams of becoming a comic-book artist. It started way back in the 6th grade, when my mother took me to Zak’s (long-time north Texas residents will remember that chain of art stores) and told me I could get whatever I wanted. Even