Return of the Barron

I find it terribly appropriate that a genius instructor I had the amazing fortune of studying with years ago, happens to resurface through a new contact I made. I met Tom Gibbons only two days ago, and we may collaborate on a short animated film of his. Through a few emails relaying the rough scope of his ideas, he mentioned his friend Barron Storey.

Barron Storey is one of the pre-eminent illustrators in the US -- among his many achievements, his Amazon rainforest paintings hang in the Smithsonian. Barron has a way of commanding your presence and leaving you shivering and cowering in your seat, wallowing in your ineptness. I've never met anyone else who so honestly and unapologeticaly embodies the role of mad genius. And I feel incredibly forunate to have studied with him. There is no student who left his hands without being stripped of their artistic hubris. We all walk and think, draw and paint, with the ghost of Barron in our forehead. His remnants are tendrils in your mind, reminding you of every what-if, every tragedy, every comedy, every searing archetype that you embody. And how it is possible to tap into the dark wealth of your psyche if you only allow yourself to destroy what you create, and create what you have destroyed. A true shaman, indeed.