fresh in the miracle of birth, your eyes were the universe



Running into the Wave

Francis Coelho

By the time I had reached the age of twelve I was an extremely good thief. Shoplifting was my specialty. I stole an entire set of oil paints from the local stationary store. I went for the deluxe model, large tubes of paint, brushes, linseed oil, turps, a palette and palette knives – no point in stealing cheap shit. I had been doing a lot of drawing and painting since I was four or five, but when I discovered oil painting, I went ape shit. Water colors are not a little boy’s medium, they are delicate and unforgiving. But oil paints – you can smear it on and scrape it off, make big gooey glops or light washes. I fell in love… (more…)

The Parable of the Crab

I read this parable when I was fourteen. It was in a book called, TO CATCH AN ANGEL, by Robert Russell. It’s a parable that has guided my life since then… or maybe it’s more accurate to say, it’s a parable that I have lived… am still living. This is the way I remember it:

When a crab is first born, it has no shell. Its skin is soft and pink and vulnerable. Most baby crabs are eaten. A few live long enough to grow a shell. (more…)