Benefit Virtual Art Show

Hi friends!

Join me tomorrow at 1PM EST for the premiere of the Mini Metallics Abstract Collection reveal video. There will be 18 original mini paintings, 4 x 4 inches or smaller, each with a bonus tiny easel to display it on. They are priced at $25 each plus tax. U.S. shipping will be included but shipping outside of the U.S. will be an additional charge.

Proceeds from the art show will go to benefit a young family who’s baby needs brain surgery. Please help if you can.

Each painting is numbered and is listed on a directory page at the end of the video. To purchase a painting, contact me here on the website via the contact page, on any of the relevant posts on the Facebook page, through Facebook Messenger, or at my email Here’s the link to tune in tomorrow and I hope to see you there:

Mini Metallics Abstract Collection


Society6 Shop is Open

Hi friends!

I thought I’d try a new thing. I like useful products so I have opened a shop on Society6 called DMPaul. It looks like art prints come up first, but as you scroll down you can see links to other products, such as cards, bar stools, and coasters. I’m going to add more images to the shop as well.

I’m thinking that people will begin Christmas shopping soon, but also that as we are still confined more to our homes, some may want new art for their walls to look at. Higher quality art prints are still available in my shop here, and I’d be happy to sign them for you.

Thanks for checking it out !


October Art Show

Hi friends!

I’m happy to say “Von Garfunkel” is in an art show at The Orphanage Gallery downtown Dayton at the Front Street Art Studios and Galleries for the month of October!

Von Garfunkel

Tonight is 1st Friday and the studios will be hopping. See more info here:

Come on out to see this eclectic art show!

YouTube Videos

The Brownieman

Hi friends!

Today I have a new YouTube video for you. It’s just a short ditty where I reveal a new print I ordered from fantasy artist James Browne. I have recently purged and I have space for it, which is so exciting! Hope you enjoy the video.

YouTube Videos

“Strawberry Family” A Speed-painting Video

Hi friends!

If you haven’t seen it yet, here is the full version of the digital speed painting video “Strawberry Family” that I created for a calendar contest. Sometimes it’s fun to watch the process. Alas, the painting was not chosen, but I feel it was a worthy effort and I love it anyway.



New Paintings: Introducing the “Fantasy Flora 2” Collection

Hello my amazing friends!

I just wanted to share some new paintings I’ve been working on. I need to get them in the shop!

The last one, “Violet Burgundy” (snort, did you see what I did there?), is going to be a featured painting for a juried art show I was judged into! Details to come on that next week, but keep open June 14th or 15th. But for now, I hope you like them as much as I do, and watch for them in the shop.

God bless!


Classic Art Series, Short Stories

Classic Art Series: 5 – Freda


Camille Pissaro, “The Artist’s Garden at Eragny” 1898 – Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington

Freda pulled another weed from the garden and then stood to rub her back. Another long hot day… I’m ready for some lemonade. I wonder if the painters are too?

She picked up her weed bucket and headed toward the house. She dumped the weeds in the trash receptacle, dropped the bucket next to the step below the kitchen door and entered the shady coolness. Freda gathered some lemons, sugar and a pitcher and proceeded to squeeze the lemons. That’s a good day’s work. The pain in my back proves it and should help me sleep well tonight. She hummed to herself as she worked. I wonder how Jeb’s doing. I’ll drop the lemonade off to the artists and then bring him a glass. Might even get a hug for my effort.

Freda stopped to chat with the three artists in residence for the week as she poured them each a glass of the cool tart lemonade. When Jeb had retired from his English professorship at a university upstate, they bought this small bed and breakfast. It had been a financial struggle to repair everything broken or run down when they moved in. Not quite in the city, and not quite on the coast, they had few guests registered those first few years.

One day, as Freda had been perusing a literary magazine, she had an epiphany – to advertise it as a quiet country residence for writers and artists. Since then, word had spread like wildfire and they kept a steady business – especially in the summer. They usually booked out their rooms by the week, nine or ten months in advance.

Freda and Jeb offered a clean quiet home with a full breakfast and an hors d’oeuvres cocktail hour every evening. Often, guests would call a cab or borrow their bicycles to ride the ten minutes to town for lunch or to see the sites if they didn’t have their own vehicle. Guests were lucky to taste the rich vegetables that Freda grew in the garden, which was her pride and joy. 

Both Freda and Jeb considered themselves lucky, now that they had a steady business. It afforded them an opportunity for a weekly vacation away every year, and also allowed Jeb the free time to paint, which had been his dream since boyhood. Freda walked to the studio now with a glass of lemonade, taking in the sun reflecting off the windows and wiping her brow.

“Hello, my dear,” said Jeb, when she opened the door. “My, but you are a welcome sight with that lemonade.” He picked the glass from her hand and took a long swallow. “Mmm…just what I needed.”

Freda studied the portrait on the easel. “Who is that? And why have you painted her into a mermaid?”

Jeb chuckled at Freda’s sarcastic tone. “Don’t worry, love. It’s just a mermaid – no one in particular.”

Freda let out a long sigh. “I’m not sure why you think it necessary to paint all those fantastical portraits you paint. Why can’t you just paint the landscape. There’s so much beautiful land and country here, and the scene constantly changes with the seasons. You can even catch different creatures like deer and raccoons to put in the paintings.”

Jeb laughed, “Oh, Freda, there’s not much imagination in that, now, is there?”

Freda looked abashed. I don’t know why he so greatly values imagination, but it makes him happy, so I’ll try to be understanding. She pecked his cheek, gave a small wave and headed back to the kitchen.


“Freda,” said Jeb, six months later. “Let’s open presents.”

Freda laughed. “Oh, Jeb! You’re just like a little boy at Christmastime!”

She picked up a gift box from under their large Christmas tree and went to sit in her rocking chair in front of the fireplace, holding the gift in her lap. Jeb followed suit, sitting next to her in his own rocker. They both sat quietly for a moment, listening to the pop of the fire and admiring the twinkling lights on the tree. They never booked guests over Christmas week, instead keeping their pretty property quiet that one week per year for themselves.

“Well, I guess I’ll go first,” said Freda, handing Jeb the box. He opened it slowly and carefully, savoring the amount of preparation that had gone into the pretty packaging.

Lifting the box top he exclaimed, “Oh, Freda! These are perfect!” Jeb lifted three fine paint brushes. “They must’ve cost a pretty penny; however did you afford these?”

“I’ve been saving a little here and there this year. They are sable,” she answered shyly.

“My love, you always manage to surprise me. They are so soft, they almost feel too precious to use.”

Freda laughed. “You’d better use them! That’s what I bought them for, and I know you’ll take good care of them, just like you do of me.” Jeb stood and hugged her.

He sat back down in his chair and then pulled his gift box up from the floor where it had been leaning against an end table, and handed it to her.

She studied the wrapping paper and asked,”Did you paint this?” At his nod, she added,”It’s beautiful.” She stroked the paper intently.

“Open it, Freda.”

Freda slid her hand under the tape on the back of the package. She could tell it was a frame from the way her fingers caught on a wire. She gingerly slipped the paper off the edges and let it fall to the floor. Very carefully she turned the frame over.

She lost her breath for a moment. When she regained it she said, “Jeb, this is beautiful.” Tears sprang to her eyes and her hand flew to cover her mouth as she tried to regain her composure.

The painting was a landscape of their bed and breakfast, taken from the angle in front of the garden. In the picture, Freda stood turned toward the sun with a blissful smile on her face.

She continued, “I guess you did find a creature to paint, after all!”

Classic Art Series, Short Stories

Classic Art Series: 4 – August Part 2


Paul Cezanne, “House of Pere Lacroix” 1873 – Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington


There, in all her glorious dark hair, stood Pila d’Arezzo. August lost his voice. The two men looked at each other, one sick from guilt, the other sick from love.

“Hallo, Jackson.” She waved at the barkeeper. “Can I get a beer?”

Eduardo whispered, “What’s she doing here? I never seen her come in here before!”

“Me neither.” August moved to the other side of the booth for a better look.

Pila looked around the room, caught August’s eye and smiled. His throat went dry, but he managed to smile back at her. She thanked Jackson, picked up her mug and walked toward them. August looked swiftly around the room, noticing the lack of patrons.

“Hallo, Eduardo. What’s your friend’s name?”

Eduardo stuttered, “Hallo, Pila. This is August. August, this is Pila.” He looked at August with wide eyes and a slight shake of his head.

August caught Eduardo’s meaning and put a radiant smile on his face. “Won’t you join us?” He slid closer to the wall and she sat down next to him. He could smell her perfume.

She studied him a moment. “Don’t you walk the path every day?”

August’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yes I do. I, uh, like to get my exercise.” She’s noticed me.

She nodded. “Yes, that’s good. Say, have either of you seen anyone messing with my garden?”

“That’s an interesting question, why do you ask?” said August.

“Today someone was digging again. I know you do our gardening, Eduardo, but this was on the north side where you don’t work. Bitzy, mi amor perro, found it and almost fell in! I’d hate to have to put up a fence, but I can’t have my baby getting injured. This was the last straw for my parents and they want to put up the fence. I told them I’d come to the village and see what I could find out.”

August looked pointedly at Eduardo. Eduardo shrugged and said nothing.

She continued. “I don’t know what else to do. We may have to put up the fence, but I’d hate it if you couldn’t walk the path, August.” She looked at him with doe eyes.

Eduardo let out a big sigh. “Oh, okay. It was me. Some guy from the city paid me fifty dollars to get this flower for him.” He held the flower out to Pila. She stared blankly at it.

“Have you been the one cutting our flowers, Eduardo?”

“No, but I know who’s doing it. That guy hired a couple other guys to get this flower before he asked me. They didn’t know what they were doing and kept bringing him the wrong flowers.”

Pila just stared at Eduardo. She didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I can give you the fifty dollars.” He looked sheepish. “Please don’t call the police.” His head hung low.

She looked at August. He shrugged a shoulder.

“Do you think this is done, Eduardo?”

“I don’t know, Ma’am. If the guy doesn’t get the flower, he may come back.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment and then, “I’ll tell you what. If you help me catch him, I won’t tell the police you took it first. Just plant it back where you found it and then call him and tell him you’ve changed your mind, but that if he wants it, he can get it himself. Tell him we will be gone this evening. I’ll call the police and they can wait for him.”

Eduardo nodded.

“August, will you walk back with me?” August nodded. They stood up, said goodbye to Eduardo, waved at Jackson and left the bar.

“So…” began Pila. “How do you like the pond?”

August felt his face flush. “It’s lovely. The scenery around it is so pretty this time of year.”

“I’m not usually forward, but do you think you’d like to have a coffee with me some time?”

Butterflies erupted in August’s stomach. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Classic Art Series, Short Stories

Classic Art Series: 4 – August Part 1


Paul Cezanne, “House of Pere Lacroix” 1873 – Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington

August peered over the pond. What is she doing now? I can’t see her through the trees anymore. Autumn needs to come fast so the leaves fall. I need to see my beloved again.

Every day August strolled the walking path that tread from the center of the village, to the outskirts of town and then across the d’Arezzo estate. The d’Arezzo family had allowed villagers to walk the path into the forest for almost a hundred years, but August had recently heard they may soon revoke the privilege.  Destruction of the estate’s large gardens had occurred on several occasions and even with complaints lodged to the village council, the desecration had continued.

August walked the path to try to see the d’Arezzo’s daughter, Pila; but he also wanted to keep an eye out and perhaps even capture the criminals. If he did, Pila might think him a hero and take notice of him. He walked the path every day, yet she had only waved to him once. I wonder if she knows I walk to see her. I walk to protect her.

As he stared across the pond, he saw a rustling in the small scraggly trees on the opposite side of the pond. His heart leapt. Might she be walking to the pond? How should I stand? Should I lean against this tree? Should I pretend I don’t see her? 

A red plaid covered elbow came through the tall grass. August ducked behind a bush. The rest of the man soon followed the elbow through the scraggly trees. He carried one lone flower, roots and all. He walked along the edge of the pond to where a wheelbarrow rested, constantly scanning the area. The man put the pink flower in a tan mesh sack, laid it gently in the wheelbarrow and covered it with some other foliage. Then he picked up the wheelbarrow and whistled as he pushed it back through the scrub.

What was that about? August hurried deeper into the trees further along the path, to where he could look down the estate’s long driveway. He kept himself hidden in the trees and waited. Within a few minutes an old rusty truck with a bunch of gardening tools in the bed drove out from the main house. As the truck passed, August saw the driver – Eduardo! What is he doing?

August headed back toward town on the path, thoughts roiling around in his head. He was thirsty from the walk, so when he was back in the center of the village, instead of going up to his flat he stopped at the pub for a beer. When he walked in, he felt eyes on him.

“Hallo, August!” Jackson, the barkeeper, called. August nodded and took a seat at the bar. “You wanna pint?” Again August nodded.

Jackson watched him take a long pull from the mug. “You alright, hefe?”

August surveyed his surroundings. The few patrons paid him no attention, but his head paused mid-swing at the two men in the corner. “What’s Eduardo doin’ over there?”

“Dunno.” Jackson shrugged, drying a glass. “Why? Why don’t you go ask him? You’ve known him since primary school.”

“Who’s the guy with him?”

“Dunno.” Jackson shrugged again and put the glass up on a shelf. “You want me to go ask him?” Jackson laughed and shook his head. “It’s no my business. I keep to myself.”

August stared at Jackson. Maybe I will go ask him. For Pila. He stood up, nodded at Jackson, picked up his mug and walked toward the table.

“Hey, Eduardo! How’s it goin’ man?” August clapped a hand on Eduardo’s back and slid into the booth next to him. He held his hand out to the man across the table, dressed in fine clothes. “Hallo, what’s your name, amigo? You no from around here, eh?”

The man looked at August’s hand but did not take it, so he let it drop. The man glared at Eduardo.

“Hey, August. I’m kinda busy,” said Eduardo, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“Yeah,” August said, nodding and smiling. “I see you made a new friend here.” August saw the mesh sack sitting next to Eduardo on the booth bench. “What you got there?” He pointed at the sack.

“Oh, that’s nothin’. Just something I picked up at work today.”

“Oh yeah? Where you workin’ now?”

“Uh, I work up at the big house. Doin’ a bit of gardening.”

“That right? I didn’t know that. How long you been workin’ up there, man?” August turned to Jackson. “Hey Jackson, bring us a round, will you?”

Eduardo raised his hand and waved at Jackson. “No man, I got to go.” The other man glared at Eduardo, got up and left the pub.

“Hey, August, you gotta let me out, man.”

“Eduardo, we been friends a long time, no?”

Eduardo nodded and shrugged. “So?”

“Did you take something that does no belong to you?”

Eduardo’s eyebrows shot up before guilt covered his face. He squinted, quickly recovering. “What you talkin’ about?”

August glared at him. “I saw you take something up there and put it in your barrow, man.”

Eduardo’s eyes closed and he let out a long sigh. “Aw, man. You did? You saw me?” At August’s nod, he continued. “That guy out there,” he threw a thumb toward the front door, “he paid me fifty bucks to get him this flower. I figured, hey, what the heck. It’s only one flower, right?”

“Eduardo, if that guy is paying you fifty bucks, it’s probably worth a lot more than that, right? I mean, he looks like he’s from the city. He’s got those expensive clothes and not a nice face.”

The bell above the door jingled. August watched Eduardo’s face pale as he saw who entered the pub. August turned.

To be continued…