The hand of of my youngest daughter, Julia. Her hand holds several pieces of origami art she created from sweet wrappers. Julia’s hand partially covers my hand, which in its turn partially covers my first book, the cover of which is filled with artwork created by my hand, and which in its turn covers another form of art, the art form I personally hold most dear. Namely, ideas cast in those squiggly symbols we see as words.
Once Art begins, does it ever end?
So, in other words…
Art,
atop its artist’s hand,
atop its father’s hand,
atop the artwork of the
father’s hand…
