I painted this portrait of Bob Dylan one night, simply because I love him his music, his writing, his style, and everything that seems to exist somewhere in between.

There was something about this photograph that stayed with me. The cigarette resting in his hand, one eye almost hidden, that serious expression where it looks like he’s somewhere else for a moment, lost in a thought we’ll never know.

My dad loved this painting so much that I framed it and gave it to him as a gift. It now lives in his living room, so the original has already found its home.

Only prints are available.