As I was sitting here tonight looking at some recent drawings I’ve done, I was suddenly hit by a memory from years ago of swimming in a hotel pool when I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9 years old. The memory wasn’t significant, or even interesting, but it was there, buried in the vast detritus pile that is my brain. Why this memory and why this moment? I have no idea. The drawings and all the things I’ve done all day were unrelated. Yet there it was, this errant little memory, a snapshot in time, floating up out of the detritus pile into my active train of thought. How very strange the human brain is, how very odd indeed.

_Art from sketchbook page, mixed media on watercolor paper. _