Saturday’s New York Times ran an article by Jeanne Steig. Jeanne wrote about her dearly departed husband Bill Steig, the author of many children’s books, including Shrek.
Jeanne Steig writes (excerpt):
My husband, who died just over a week ago at the age of 95, was a bit like that, a champion worrier. He called himself a depressive, but he was the most cheerful man alive. I said from the start that I’d love him as long as he kept me laughing, and he never failed. Even his worries amused me: When we get there we won’t be able to park. There will be no table. The food will be awful. You could not stop Bill from worrying; he took too much pleasure from it.
If Bill were asked what he meant to be saying here, he would disavow any knowledge beyond the drawing itself, the physical thing. He drew from an impulse that went straight from the heart to his moving hand — and he always watched that hand with delight, wanting to see what it was up to. The interpretations others might bring surprised him. Really? he’d say, and make haste to forget whatever metaphysical visions had been assigned to him. He didn’t need them; they got in the way.
Hmmmm. I left my comment on your “welcome” page. None the less, congratulations again.
PD