my thoughts about Jim

Fifteen years after his death, Jim Mickelson has begun to emerge from the collections of those who knew him and jealously accumulated his work.  Jim was a true artist. He lived, and died by the sword, so to speak. It was his trade, his coin of the realm, his means of getting by. Sadly, he probably never realized the full financial rewards that his talent deserved. He did however garner great love, deep friendships and enthusiastic acclaim from those who knew him.

Now his work is beginning to come back into the market. As his close friends and family age, the necessary downsizing and passing along of treasures takes place, gathers some momentum and his reputation grows. His true genius, and his true mark upon the contemporary American art scene becomes apparent.

It is more than the ecstasies and tragedies of his own time here on earth. It is more than the sons and daughters and lovers he knew. It is the wild and uninhibited passion to portray what he saw, and leave it in some form for others to also enjoy.

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