I'm Aly Logan, a 23-year-old art-lover with just enough intelligence and hotness to get by. I dream and love with desperation. Even my regrets chisel my soul with a sharpness that screams, "I am real!" But I only exist as a character in the pages of The Art Of My Life, by Ann Lee Miller. Yeah, it sucks for me. But, hey, there are worse things.... So, if you want to talk about how art dissembles life or if you missed having an imaginary friend as a kid, here's your chance.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
The Last Stroke
Like a kid tagged in freeze tag, my arm halts in mid-air. The work cries for that one last brushstroke. But I can’t do it. Not yet. I don’t know when I’ll be ready. I don’t care how long I have to walk around the easel, stubbing my toes on it. The last stroke could be the one that makes it a masterpiece or a tragedy.