Years ago, I had a lovely, spooky studio with an ever-present, ever-overdue Mucha book. This drawing was inspired by both. My friend Hayes swore the old school was haunted.
The janitor ghost never showed itself to me, but the memory of working alone 'til morning, with the rest of the building completely dark gives me the heebie jeebies. I painted with loud music to protect me and the door remained locked. When it was time to go home, I sprinted down the steps, to my car in a wimpy burst. They tore our studio down a year later and a parking lot is standing where it lived. One day, I hope to upgrade to a creepy treehouse or funky attic.