Sketch of mister sketchy nicknamed the philosopher. A person who meets difficulties and complex matters with calmness and composure.

I find beauty in everything, its here, its there and everywhere. Needless to search high or low, it all over the place, its in my ears and my eyes, in my heart and in my mind and the beauty is every one knows beauty is omnipresent and knows: its a form of goodness. Obvious. And love makes us see beauty, that statement is also very obvious.

Define beauty. Not possible. For example ruins, trees, landscapes, moonlight shining trough the curtains, the shape of bottles or the disfigurations of clouds, all brilliant, great stuff, mystic beauty. What about writers like Paul Auster celebrated for his beauty of style? Who wrote – crazy idea – read his novel Man in the dark, that we maybe dreamed the whole thing, our life’s.

I am stunned by the beauty of a bird like the little robin in the same way as I am stunned by the vastness of the universe.

I am stunned standing in front of a sunset in the same way as I am standing in front of a still life by an abstract painting, drinking in its beauty.

From the earliest of times throughout the centuries artists have always loved to paint beauty, because it has wings it can fly as high as cherubs and therefore beauty can be placed and framed anywhere you like. You can make it sing and dance. Make it cry or smile if you like. Beauty in its unlimited supply drawn from real life conjures nice dreams.

You can do anything you like as an artist, you paint what you feel, see and imagine and that simply works because you know: visual information remains a primary source of meaning. Any image, mundane or dramatic, even inessential and unnecessary still has power, imagery beautifies the world by its nature.