My Fairy-Tale Life, by Steven Boone

When I had the idea to use The Steven Boone Gallery for a portrait exhibit, I almost simultaneously thought of Geoffrey Laurence as a p...

  Today I am lazy, and since I have blogged for six years without fail, I am not writing, but rather, giving this link to visual enterta...

In "the zone" on a street in Madrid, Spain In 2008, while I was traveling solo around the world for one year, about three mo...

Chamo, on our hike, the day before he became ill. Chamo Bamo, Monster Man, Sharp Sales Dog; I have many nicknames for our six month old...

I have written 321 blogs in a row—each week for six years. Today I am taking a vacation. Here is my blog from one year ago: A Complex L...

Every picture tells a story, and in art, it is remarkable how different that story can be from one person to the next. For instance, a p...

Among the myriad memories of my youth, some episodes stand out more than others. When I was 13, I was with friends playing basketball at th...

How often does it happen that after visiting an art museum, we walk back out onto the same streets, but with different eyes.  After spend...

    To arrive at the Bisti Badlands in New Mexico is like landing on another planet. No paved roads, no trees or shrubs—only barren, ro...

“Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?” ― Neltje Blanchan It is impossible to stay indoors during the springtime...

I heard an incredible story recently. At the health club I attend, I had just finished swimming and went to soak in the hot tub. I got in, a...