The great thing about being a blogger is that I can continually talk about myself. Blah blah blah Greg… blah blah blah more Greg. 🙂
A little while back I inflicted upon you all the story of teenage Greg. Here it is if you feel that you cannot get enough of me. (That’s a hint – run away from this post while you still can). LOL
Today is the story of me in my 20s. To be honest there is no where near as much art. My eyes were on a downward spiral – my left eye already blind (the Keratoconus). I was also working full time and studying part-time at night. So art took a back seat. Anyway, I still did the odd piece and it’s worth looking at these in seeing how I developed.
At the end of my teens and the beginning of my twenties I started collecting old National Geographics. Mostly this was because I worked on a road heavy with second-hand bookshops and I loved the photos and exotic locales. I was actually inspired to make several sketches from these. Only one remains – a man with a pipe and a pot on his head. Around the same time I decided to paint a portrait of one of my favourite Hollywood stars of the time – Clint Eastwood. It’s not that good, but I learnt a great deal. I followed this up with a study of my mother and then