The years have carried us far from the days of “American Primitive Paintings,” as described by Jean Lipman: ~1942-1969~ Much of the reason I retain consternation about those that discredit the achievements of digital artists.

There are a lot of inquisitive questions raised whenever I take time to draw real people.

What were they doing while I traveled across the country from 2011-2015?

Where they in search of methods to overcome the crash of 2007 to present? ((No matter how the Republicans tout a booming economy and financial gain, or ignore those on welfare to be political fodder to their Democrat masters, their remain more starving artists, than successful ones.))

Everyday I am made to remain thankful for the ability to broadcast my work online. That costs money. And as long as I can remain above destitution and have a studio to work out of, I can say I am better off then where I was years ago.

How do they measure success, compared to their lives of three years prior?

For me, success will not be realized until I find sponsors, willing to publish my crafts and assist in getting them into the hands of the thousands, interested in the beauty expressed from the woman.

It is nice to see women with a little fupa can be glamorized, supported and loved by so many people. I should ask if they ever plan on making Pin-up calendars in the future? They have a good line up of prints that can be used. It is equally wonderful that these two express interest in showcasing the real beauty of a woman, in as natural of a state of sensuality that can be achieved without it seeming forced and gaudy.

Either it is natural or they are the best modeling/actresses I’ve seen in a long time, because their friendship seems real, and I’ve been fooled into believing, they enjoy the demands of their work and the travel.

I remember the first time I was locked up. I was seventeen, turning eighteen and I would read People’s Magazine, King Magazine, Hip-Hop “Something or other,” Rolling Stone Magazine, just a lot of publications which featured dolled up women with flawless ‘sex-hair,’ or features unmarred by the realities of life. Young nubile women that I’d never meet and meant nothing to me but a passing fancy of objectification. I found myself, as I read about their dreams, aspirations, desires of love and being a house-wife that never had to debase herself again by taking pictures which complemented her Jergens baby-oiled ass, just right, wondering as I turned the pages, could I ever be the kind of man that could condone the actions of a woman I called, ‘lover,’ to bare her soul and curves for the world to see for a few hundred dollars that would only carry us to her next photo shoot and never put enough in our pockets to pay for the ever increasing interest placed upon the home and lifestyle we rarely enjoy due to the busy work schedules?

Would I sacrifice the peace I obtain in finding interesting things to draw for my own pleasure for the demands of drawing what people desire, only to argue about the ever increasing rate per commission? All for the sake of the dream that is found in being successful.