He was a classically trained artist. As a kid. An old fisherman, a partial nude, with artistic wisdom and clarity, sitting for the young artist, barely a teenager. And yet, a fine painting. A Picasso. Of course.

And then, to start his career, the Blue Period. Simplified forms. How to describe them... shadows? figurative? sketch? cartoon--no. The Saltimbanque, thin, and his family. Hardship, tragedy, the leanest of times, and no future what so ever. Nowhere to go then, if you were. Today, not much better. Here, the Blue Period, a short-hand, simplified. No, not the brushstrokes of detail and realism, but the form done as if quickly, as if 'all you get to say, and have to say it quick.' A morally freighted suggestion, a call to make forth some form of distribution of resources.

A phase artists go through, and actually, it's them hitting their stride. The desire, the ability, to see simply and direct. Hemingway follows suit. Simple childish basics, put together, still telling a story, as well as any method or practice. Carver, same.

The training in form and color and capturing graceful from has come, has gone, and now, it's time.