A Portrait of Kermit Oliver

A thoughtful biographical essay on the artist designer for Hermès, a recluse who works the nightshift as a postman.  Tremendous talent tinged with terrible tragedy.  

‘What was the purpose of everything that’s happened?’ Kermit said, his voice rising. ‘Some ancient writings feel that the God of this world is not the God that created it.’ He closed his eyes and paused. ‘Let me put it this way: Do you think God created tornadoes and hurricanes and tsunamis and everything as a punishment for people? Or is that just coincidence?’ Kermit stopped, suddenly reticent. He sat still, but his long and weathered hands twisted and turned in his lap. He wrung them out like a dishrag. ‘Life is chaos,’ he said. He looked out the window. ‘Some of us survive it. Some of us don’t.’