They called me the BRUSH SLINGER

There is something profound about working alone. For nearly fifty years, I have been somewhat reclusive. I have discovered life becomes your own invention, and you’re insulated from much of the emotional contagion that confronts your fellow citizens. Alone, with only creative skills to rely on for daily pleasure, presents a challenge. When your creative efforts captivate your full attention, your concern about worldly endeavors becomes irrelevant. Much of what you hear and read about may be deleted unless it concerns your personal family. You stay connected to the world through television and the Internet, although you’re not an active player. You learn to take much of the joy and the pain of everyday existence in a philosophical way. An artist communicates through his art and if the work connects with his patrons, it’s an achievement. If the artist fails to connect, it may be a dark day. However, when your work also brings self-satisfaction, you may feel a true sense of accomplishment. In writing these stories, it helps me to understand myself more, and why I entered into such a lonely lifestyle. The only way I can achieve satisfaction is through introspection and immersing myself in my work. Each day the opportunity to create an outstanding work of art offers reassurance—that who I am, and what I do, is worthy of sharing with the world. Many people in my field may harbor similar feelings about their careers, and I find it important for them to know they’re not alone. Today, more than any time in modern history, people work at home, and regardless of their profession, many may identify with me.