“There are no ‘plain facts’ in the history of art—or any history of anything else, for that matter; only degrees of plausibility…. Yet we sense that Gauguin, although he tried to share his experience [spirit], he remains an outsider; he could paint pictures about faith, but not from faith.”

—H.W. Hanson, History of Art

Today is my birthday. It’s a pleasant summer evening. The moon is complete and fitting for this moonchild in the promised land.

My Mother and I went to the California Pizza Kitchen for some light fare.

As we spoke, my birth came up. “What time was I born?” I asked.

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What’s all this about abstract art being modern?

Abstract art is as old as humankind. Look at prehistoric art, ancient art, art of the Middle Ages, art of the Renaissance, and you’ll find abstract art there as well.

The completed “abstract” piece is not abstract to the artist. After all, while abstract art may not be revealing external nature, it is revealing internal nature.

Knowing the difference is cumulative and adds up to what is called a distinction.

If you are perfecting some thing that you have made before, then it is craft—it is technique.

If you are making some thing that has never been made before, then it is creation—it is unique.

If you don’t know the distinction, then how can you properly present your work? The public is already in enough trouble when it comes to discerning art from craft.

There is plenty of room for excellence in both categories.

Remember, comparisons in art are traps.

I was walking my two Yorkies this evening when I met a neighbor. She has a 7-year old daughter who was home with her grandmother. Grandma had cataract surgery and was recuperating.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked.

“Oh, there was a bit of bleeding, but she’ll be okay soon,” said the neighbor.

“How’s your daughter doing? Is she helping out?”

She laughed. “Is she ever. My mother told her that she didn’t want her to be her slave all day long.”

My dogs yelped, wanting to continue their promenade.

“I’m not your slave,” she told my mother. “I’m your nurse.”

“Brilliant!” I said.