Your elders gloat like lilly pads on a pond under sunscreen and broad hats thousands of miles from their grown children. Then the call comes: “your mother, she fell”; "your father, has a spot, lump, cough.” All this is an unexpected thunder storm carpeting your sun.
You don’t know it yet, but you’ve just been drafted into the minor leagues playing for a teamplagued by dust storms.
16" x 20" Digital prints available. 2008 Artist: B.F.M. Here we are in the middle of the Olympics. This is one of my favorite events. I created this piece back in 2008. Remember what your mother said: Share.