A painter obsessed with painting....

I can hear the scrape of the palette knife running it's smooth bladed-smile across the surface; the aroma of turps and linseed oil sinks thick into the air; I am a painter. I can feel the complete, and utter, solitude of the lonely studio, it's artist muttering words to themselves, raging war on the canvas; a piece of linen stretched tight like skin upon the bones on well-milled pine; for I am a painter.

Jon DeWitt Morris