We express ourselves in different ways. One’s wild garden tending is another’s storytelling of memories, across the bridge someone walks along the river in deep introspection, another dreams as she looks at the sky, he hopes as he sprints down the road, they smile at passersby…this is art…the living choices we paint our lives with…the colors spilling over onto another’s path…some mixes go muddy…others create spectral arcs that seemingly touch the sky…if you think you can’t create art…you’re not looking deeply enough…we are all artists…each one of us the embodiment of art itself…

My character, Hank Olin, began as a drawing many years ago. He was then slid into a plastic sleeve and clipped into a binder to join other characters who’d grown silent between black vinyl covers. One day he escaped to become an acrylic painting. His accomplice told him metallic paint would wake his spacesuit up too so he could fly. Hank Olin was happy – he no longer had to live in the binder. He was free.

Being the benevolent ele-space-ien he was, he asked for the immediate release of all those trapped between the heavy covers of that wicked black vinyl binder.

His request was soon granted by an accomplice on the outside, who looked at the sky that very day, appreciating their singular freedom to gaze upon such beauty in a world of madness. Hank Olin was lifted from his two-dimensional prison. Today Hank is free to stargaze, to whisper musings in the ear of anyone nearby, he’s dreamed below the afternoon sky and sparkled, he travels to regions real and imagined, he lives his best life while watching his friends grow into the free characters they were meant to be.