Posts by Willy Bo Richardson

My life turned upside-down, as I learned to cope with the sudden onset of these new physical ailments related to my work. Aside from the emotions of fearing I may never paint again, I became physically sick when I walked down the detergent isle at a grocery store, entered a mechanic shop or inadvertently set foot in a room where someone was painting their nails.

When I went to grad school in Brooklyn in the late ’90s, painting was dead. Those “in the know” were telling me to stop painting. I had become used to not listening to advice by then.