Death of an Artist

I’m fairly certain I fell asleep in the bathtub last night. I couldn’t sleep, so, at 3:30 a.m. I ran myself a bath. I do remember dozing off at some point but thought I woke myself up. When I got out of the bath the water was lukewarm and it was 5:30 a.m. 

This made me think of a family friend, an artist, whose paintings traveled with my family from house to house: a landscape, a portrait of my sister, the blue birds. She would often work in the middle of the night, and when short on inspiration, would take a bath. One night, she had a stroke while in the middle of one such midnight bath. Her husband didn’t find her until the morning. She can’t paint anymore. 


Featured Image Credit: Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Marat, 1793

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