Another good weekend selling art on the sidewalk

I had another successful weekend selling art on the sidewalk. I sold two paintings, which always feels like a small celebration and a little goodbye.

One was a beaded dancer, full of movement and sparkle. The other was a Jackson Pollock-style bull, loose and bold, with that wild feeling I love when the paint starts making its own weather.

The sidewalk is its own kind of gallery. No walls, no white gloves, just the work out in the air and strangers stopping to look. I love that exchange — the moment someone's face changes when a painting speaks to them.