When I think of myself in a beret, holding a palette and wearing a look of intense concentration, I have to laugh.
It’s not that I don’t take art seriously, man; after all, it’s my livelihood and my life – but it’s just too much to expect a RAH (Rapidly Aging Hippie) to conform to what used to be the stereotype of an ‘artist.’ Or should I spell that ‘artiste’?
Not my scene, you know? And I’m trippin’ on it. We can all grok together, and be happy.
Wear your old love beads the next time you have to be present at something formal. Far out!