My Fairy-Tale Life, by Steven Boone

What art awakens in us, and how it matters Amedeo Modigliani,  Nu Couché (Reclining Nude) 1917 When I posted on Facebook an AI-generated i...

Painting on the island of Kauaʻi, Hawaii, 2001 For four decades, my workdays were mostly spent with paint and brush, shaping canvases into w...

Having lived most of my life in North America where four distinct seasons mark the year, I am still adjusting to the rhythm of only two in M...

After a month away, the arc of our travels has closed—New Mexico’s familiar mesas, Minnesota’s lakes, and now back to Oaxaca.  We landed saf...

  Two weeks slipped by since my last post—sunlit and full, with the kind of quiet richness that unfolds when one returns to old ground with ...

New Mexico again—the land of wide skies, long shadows, and a heartbeat that still echoes in my bones. Albuquerque was the first stop: a swee...

From rogue taxis to Diego’s grave, tracing art, memory, and spirit through Roma Norte Plaza Río de Janeiro Amy and I parted ways on Monday, ...

  Amy and I are about to trade the bougainvillea and brass bands of Oaxaca for the buzzing highways and family hearths of the United States....

Lately, I’ve found myself returning to a time-honored tradition in painting: the still life. These quiet compositions—humble, unmoving, eve...

For nearly four years now, Amy and I have welcomed neighborhood children to our home each Sunday afternoon for free art classes. It began as...

Some cities whisper. Oaxaca shouts, sings, sometimes howls—and always colorfully. For Amy and me, living just outside the city, each visit i...