My son's breath warmed my neck as I lost myself in the wrinkle of his wrist. Blackness. Quiet. Then the skeleton.

“Our Banner in the Sky” is a painting made almost entirely of belief, which is why I liked it at first sight, in reproduction no less, advertising the Met’s 2013 Civil War and American Art exhibition in a newsletter.

I must have been eight or nine years old when my older brother brought home a small Skira book on Van Gogh.

I’m not sure when I first saw Winslow Homer’s “The Herring Net,” but the piece bobs up and down in my imagination, weathering trends, taste and time.

It is rare, and always impressive, when an older artist turns a winter’s passion into a new body of work.

Don Manuel’s pets create an illusive narrative, one that sets the stage for Goya’s future projects as social commentator and archivist of brutality.

I love this image. And have for many years. Actually, it’s less about one painting and more about a book of images. I chose this one at random.

Before I can grasp it with my mind, this painting has already saturated and immobilized me. What am I looking at? Not so much a painting as a force.

Misreading pleases me almost as much as mishearing. The read or heard phrase arrives into consciousness seeming to belong to someone else...

"I paint them until I want to Pinch their bottom." - Pierre-Auguste Renoir

I first saw Bonnard’s Large Yellow Nude at MOMA in 1998, and was immediately struck by what an exceedingly weird painting it is.