Chapter Ten
My dreams were strange. Flashes of colour and shape, swiping abstract forms circled me, almost resolving into solid shapes – objects, people – then dissolving as I reach
Chapter Nine
Do you know what the most precious thing in the world used to be? It was a colour. A pigment. Tyrian Purple, a deep, dark purple, the colour of a bruise, two days old. It was
Chapter Eight
Just days after I’d found a way to motivate M – by giving it a glimpse into the ol’ terrifying existential void – I discovered a whole new and far worse probl
Chapter Seven
I’d been having some trouble with M. Since we first starting working together, it had been painting like clockwork. I’d sit down, patiently explain a concept, and
Chapter Six
If M was going to be a true artist it needed to learn about life. I figured nudes would be the place to start. If it was going to be a mirror of my mind, a true refle
Chapter Five
What makes art valuable? How does one stand before a work and allow the eye to feast upon it – appraise its subjective qualities, the sum of its parts – and arriv
Chapter Four
So after that, I was very excited about what M would do for me. The way I saw it, I was looking at possibly the greatest revolution in art there had been for a hundred years
Chapter Three
Money. There’s never enough of it. For most of my life I was the starving artist, and then suddenly I wasn’t, but I still somehow never had enough. There was alwa
Chapter Two
The morning after my birthday found me feeling very sorry for myself. The Girlfriend hadn’t been that happy with me when I’d come home the night before. I’
Chapter One
When do you become an artist? At what point do you go from somebody who creates things as a hobby and become a real-life, honest-to-God artist? It’s s