On a cool autumn day at the beach, Pepper and I walked alongside huge grey boulders possibly left by giants. Pep was intrigued. Enchanted even. She sensed that something lay beyond them – just out of view.
This time of year my eyes find the leaves. Just like the people who go to Gatlinburg in the fall and every amateur poet who’s ever lived and I think maybe just about everyone else. We’re all in this together!…
Michael Shane Neal, close to his own half-century mark, paints portraits with an eye to history – the history of his subjects and also his own. He illuminates his subjects through his work – and is himself illuminated. He is…