I still remember the sun shining through the lone window in the cavernous art room of my Grade K-6 school on that day decades ago. It was the day a young me learned a valuable life lesson about art.
Three rows of tables ran the length of room with student-filled chairs lining either side.
I sat at the end of the middle row on the left side on this particular day; a decade before I would meet my now artist wife — who, by the way, makes this art stuff look easy.
Our new family pet had arrived. It needed a name and I had several amazing ideas, but it would be up to my artist wife to make the final decision.
After all, I had brought it home for the family but had gifted it to her specifically.
“What are you going to call it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but it has to be something appropriate.”
“How about Michelangelo?” I asked.
Today, I’m proud to share amazing news! Next Tuesday, I officially launch a new, weekly series on MarriedToAnArtist.ca. It’s called Artist Spotlight.
When I launched my weekly Saturday Morning Stories, they were aimed at pulling back the curtain on what it’s like to be married to an artist. At least, married to my beautiful artist.
Now, other artists — who I’m not married to — are generously giving me their time and letting me dive into their thoughts to help me share more about them, their quirks, and what drives their passion for art.
It was the afternoon of New Year’s Eve when I discovered my arch nemesis.
My wife’s new robot vacuum was scuttling about our kitchen, hitting walls and appliances at will, and plotting how to take over the world from our Canadian prairie suburb.
Meanwhile, I was in full-on vacation mode, lounging on our couch killing time thumbing through my social media news feeds. My Facebook friends and groups were doing a lousy job of keeping me entertained. (Cue Russell Crowe.)
“Is that for me?” our 10-year-old, sports-crazed son asked a month before Christmas.
Sitting prominently on a shelf next to our television, teasing him, was a sparkling white goalie mask. It hadn’t been there the day before.
When you live on the western Canadian prairie, you’re never too far from a frozen sheet of ice. As a result, hockey sits immediately next to baseball in his sports pantheon.