I was attracted to this sculpture on the Harbor Steps, near Pikes Market in Seattle. We had visited a friend in Bellingham, previously. It was a surreal visit to a charming, but odd community. I met two art student siblings that told me a disturbing story. Their late-father was an artist, and (not surprisingly) self centered. His progeny hated him. They took his art to desert, Eastern Washington, and burned it. It was semester end and both siblings had blank canvas on their easels the three days I was there. The experience shook any residual dreams of art immortality from my foggy id.

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