My Artist Statement

She ate the blue right off the canvas, sucked every last drip from her fingertips. They never got the point. Of course they didn't. For she alone and no one else could understand the taste of its truth. The melancholy hue of the emotional stained canvas whispered tales of adventure. Mysterious and wonderful stories, half hidden, half smudged into the canvas. Show us, tell us your secrets they cried. But she didn't. Couldn't. They never stayed awake with the canvas, it's blank face staring her down in the grey hours of the morning. They never spent days with it, battling it's disposition. They never. Of course they didn't. She did. That's why, no matter who bought, sold and told the world about it, it was her painting. That was why only she knew how faintly sweet, and fairly toxic the blue that held their hearts tasted on her tongue.
Her love. Her blue.