A summer day, a dirt road, heat thick as steam from a boiling pot. Along the shoulder are verdant trees, shadows, the hum and croak and whistle and buzz of the woods. This is Clarksville, Texas, 1910. And here is Frank Jones, who will one day, decades from now, years after his death, be among the most recognized African-American self-taught artists.
« Older Read the latest Daniel Pinkwater novel before it... | The Knight XV from Conquest Ve... Newer »
This thread has been archived and is closed to new comments