Artist Stories

Thirty-nine years old 1519 Master’s dead. Master’s dead! I still can’t believe it’s true. My stomach knots and coils while I drag myself along the winding, hidden passageways leading to his workshop within the bowels of the monastery. I steady myself before opening the door, thinking about the way I’d left him. Regret tugs at my heart. Once inside, I slowly walk around the room. Everything is still as I remembered, yet it...

I was a girl in the first grade.  My teacher had me stand before an easel with a blank paper.  I told her I did not know what to draw and she said draw anything I had seen recently.  So I drew a "Picasso" style picture of a naked lady.  Recently my family drove us to a studio of paintings by a  famous Icelandic painter and I must have been impressed by one of his nude ladies.  The teacher made my mother come to the class...