Sounds a little gross, doesn’t it?
Full disclosure. I know Ben Dunn. Ten years ago, I met Ben at a bible study. We all lead this new, para-church means of going through the bible. He was a kid and I was in my early 20s, but he had a candor that was older than his age and I had a frankness that he appreciated. As we sipped our beers and snacked on appetizers, we had a conversation, not just about the past, but about the present and the future. Ben has always had a good mind. He shocked us all when he dropped out of high school and though we should have been shocked when he was accepted into Mercer a few years later, those of us who knew him gave each other knowing looks. Of course he would get into Mercer. There, he took up philosophy, which was a path that those of us who knew him could see him walking, that this major was a long time coming. We were sure he was going to be a college professor, and we were proud of it. As we talked, even though I am furiously taking notes, the conversation led us through the harvest field of what became his life, the outcome of which brought him to painting.