FROM THE STUDIO...

I see the sea. Cliche? Possibly. The oneiric landscape accompanies me daily. A childhood wish; a goal to achieve. Inspiration of many, muse to most, alibi to few. Promises of achievement roll in with every wave, the price of it's beauty paid with the receding tide. Nothing is for free. Paradise is but a state of mind. Creation is built within. Cliche? Likely. A new year, a new breeze. A cold front coming in from the North. Calls from cities new, requests, compliments. Ass-licking at it's best. And those promises still rolling in with every wave. Cliche? Most certainly. 

THE KING'S GARDEN IS CLOSED...

The King's garden is closed, and it was about time. It had become far too accessible. Not selective enough. The flowers rejoice. They wish to bloom, pollinate solely for the deserving. Too many years they have wasted their beauty on unappreciative eyes. They have picked, plucked and passed around one time too many. It is the King who holds the sole key to the garden. He will neglect the garden no more. Too long has this corner of his kingdom been controlled by emotionally unattached individuals, inexperienced gardeners, unworthy leeches. The King's garden is closed. Weeds will be pulled, waters treated, vines trimmed and the air cleansed of the stench of trespassers past. The King believed such a beautiful garden would be naturally cared for by all, in the interest of all. He was wrong. He has learned.