Some of Philip C. Curtis’ paintings began in dreams.
The acclaimed Arizona artist kept a small sketch pad beside his bed. When an image came to him during the night, he would wake and make a tiny pencil drawing — just enough, according to longtime friend Janie Ellis, to capture the idea before it disappeared.
Eventually, one of those sketches might find its way beside his easel and grow into a painting: a barren desert populated by Victorian figures, musicians or circus performers; an abandoned building; a strange procession; an empty chair.
