My first group of paintings was entirely of old men.
“Why?” people would ask me.
“Because their wrinkles tell a story and I admire that. There is truth in their faces that is etched there by time.” I would reply.
This was my second painting that I had ever painted in high school back in 2002-03.
I had only learned how to paint (via a high school art class) in 2002.
I call it “The Drunken Volcano” as he was clearly drunk in the original picture I painted this from, wiping off the dust on a bench from a recent volcanic ash shower so he could take a nap.
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