I am standing at my artwork when the man returns.

At 8:18 tonight, I grip my knife and stare at squares.

To my eye, cemeteries have a solemn beauty. I don’t think that makes me creepy.

It’s a beautiful evening on the National Mall and Jesus keeps reminding me he’s near.

Watching the rain outside, I pray that this solution will work.

The effect of the thrown light in the gallery is dazzling.

I hadn’t expected my journals to elicit a challenge.

If your house caught fire, what one object would you try to save?

Though I can’t find the trail, the white marks guide me.

The piano is an unlikely place to have a revelation about art.

What barriers keep us from seeing God in the world around us?

The sign before me has me asking, “What does it take to be joyful?”