Finished paintings hang askew from rafters and are piled up against walls.
A bed beneath half-made blankets sits in the light filtered through the wavy glass of old windows. Jeff Pasek stands in front of a blank canvas in the middle of a splattered drop-cloth. The long brush spins in his hand as he finds the right angle of attack. He stops, looking hard at something as yet unpainted. His brush finds paint and a sleek line of orange crosses the canvas.