Living in Thailand on tourist visas is coming to an end, My Mate Nate's in trouble again, our dog died, being sick and the abundance of Thai vloggers.
When I think of artists, I think of The Beatles, Guns-N-Roses, The Who, Chopin, Beethoven or Bedrich Smetena. I think of Picasso, DiVinci, Rembrandt and Michelangelo and on rare occasions, Andy Warhol. Naming photographers is a bit trickier and my list is pages long: Fan Ho, Don McCullin, Daido Moriyama, W. Eugene Smith, Joseph Koudelka and William Eggleston, to name a scant few. My list of writers is equally lengthy: Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, George Orwell, Alexander Dumas, Ernest Hemingway, Joseph Conrad, Paul Theroux and Charles Bukowski...artists in every sense of the word.
When asked what I do, I always refer to myself as a writer and photographer. I am also what I consider a hack video-maker, but nevertheless, I am an artist. Perhaps attributing a word or words to what someone does is a mistake, however I like to think of my books, magazines articles and photographs as artistic endeavors. Why is being an artist important to me? I write, I take photos, I produce videos and therefore I am. I wish I could explain more thoroughly, but I am incapable of providing a better answer.
Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging
A couple of months ago, my mother, sister and her two children came to visit. My mother, who has visited us in Thailand twice previously, provided an itinerary for me to look over. One of the items on the list was going to a cooking class. She not only wanted me to go with her, she wanted my wife, Alex, Nicholas, my sister and her two children to go as well. Now, I'll admit, the food I cook is barely editable and hit or miss at best. But a cooking class? Really? Me?
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