I reach Palm Springs on a Greyhound bus and enter my suite at night, so that my view out of the window falls into deepest black. My hotel lies at the foot of the majestic San Jacinto Mountains. I am surprised by my lookout the next morning and am challenged to a duel with a
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It is a very warm November in Los Angeles. I cut off the sleeves of my painting smock and open an outside atelier on the balcony of my suite on the Avenue of the Stars. The famous skyline is not necessarily tangible, but the sky offers a dramatic play. I am so deeply involved in
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I’m standing at a window in the middle of mighty skyscrapers at Times Square. Manhattan sparkles brightly at night. I turn the canvas to a portrait format and sink, full of pictorial ecstasy, into the deep crevices of the houses on pulsing Broadway. What would the view be like from all the way up, I
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