My Favorite Artist.

These are new sets of works in progress by my 19-year old cousin, Kathreen. These are not yet finished.This girl is growing on me. So far, she has not created any artwork that I do not like. I usually like colorful paintings because they make me happy (I am shallow like that). And as you can see, her paintings dwell more on the dark side of human emotions. She must have used a great deal of black paint tubes. That is only my deduction, though. When I look at them I see a crying creature, a tortured soul, someone tormented with secrets and gripped in misery. Somehow, she managed to make them look beautiful…easy on the eyes, even.

I do not have the mind of an artist to know what a real art looks like. I paint sometimes. I can copy faces and scenery in charcoal or paint, but I merely copy. I do not create. So when a painting talks to me, that is the only way I know that it is something.

With Kathreen’s paintings I can make out several stories and long histories. I may not understand exactly what each and every painting is trying to say; all I know is that they are beautiful, powerful pieces. You move me in more ways than one, Kathreen.

A self-portrait.

The monsters around her room while she’s half-awake and paralyzed in her bed.

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