Artwork by Lee Harvey Roswell
The inarguable forerunner of the senses is the eye. We are primarily an optically reliant species. So, as pictorial illusionists transforming nothing into artifacts of spiritual sustenance, I’m holding the potential painter up, not just as an admirable tradesman, but much, much more. He resides as a high-priest over that all-devouring human reality, a conducting channel through which nothing triumphantly becomes something.
Casting all his belongings to the wind, living on the streets, eruptive with fits of depression, and spiraling into addictions that nearly destroyed him, Lee was looking like a Van Gogh minus the chance of a posthumous success story. Luckily this little fairytale of a bio ends happily, and Lee did find his way to sobriety, stability, and success. Lee now enjoys working avidly at his craft, pushing himself to new levels, and regarding his profession as one of the most privileged of life-long studies. His work is shown and collected worldwide. Lee Harvey Roswell lives in San Francisco, and thanks his lucky stars for the role he gets to play in this life.
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