The wisest man I know was my grandfather. Our fishing poles propped up with rocks; he shared a lifetime of stories and wisdom while we waited for the brookies to bite.
My grandfather has long since gone, but my pole waits for me to share that wisdom with my child.
It’s not only people that age, silently and forgotten, but sometimes it’s the very things we’ve depended on to live that age in anonymity.
When I saw this military truck ravaged by weather and neglect, I wondered how many solders it carried into, and out of harms way. How many of those solders are alive today because of this truck. How many of them are still alive.
This started out as a sketch and watercolor but I soon found out I wouldn't have enough time to put in the detail I wanted, so pastels it was.