Before I paint an animal, I want to see it in person - not a picture or a video - in real life. Everywhere we go, we take a trip to the zoo. We have visited zoos all over the country.

They say once a painting is finished, you should walk away. I say… let’s grab a brush and see what happens.

For now, the Royal Mail is doing its part to carry these mechanical wonders across the sea to my doorstep. I’ll be waiting, tea in hand, refreshing the tracking link like it’s my new hobby.

This blog was supposed to be about art. Just art. But rules—especially self-imposed ones—are made to be broken. So, I gave myself permission to write about whatever strikes me as interesting, funny, or just too odd not to share. A special section is in the blog for these off the art trail blogs - Life Behind the Easel.

That’s the thing about making art - inspiration doesn’t show up on command. Sometimes it hits like lightning. Other times, it sneaks in quietly while you’re folding laundry or wondering what to make for dinner. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and occasionally rude.

Ten siblings, constant “help,” and years of creative chaos—find out how sibling shenanigans inspired a quirky grotesque art series full of expression and mischief.

The first grotesque wore a purple robe, which clearly pushed me into monk territory. So, I leaned into it. Every monk after that wore the same purple robe. Each one stands against a bold background — green, orange, and pink. (After all, why settle for one color when you can use three?) The repetition gave the series some visual unity — like a weird, slightly disheveled, color-coded choir.

The evolution of painting which leads to painting grotesques.