Aiguille du Midi (As Seen From Gloria’s Window)
Ostensibly, I went to the alps this summer for writing. For whatever reason, often, I found myself drawing instead. I have a history as an art major (no degree, just lots of studio time, a healthy appetite for criticism, and outlandish ideas about the inessential role of beauty in human forms of expression). This is to say, I used to draw all the time. Continue reading
Bionic Tumbleweed 