Blink!

Picture two young parents, several teachers, a psychometrician, and myself sitting around a large table, sharing information, and planning thoughtfully to meet the needs of a bright shiny energetic mop-topped rising first grader.

Picture that I begin meeting weekly in one-to-one tutorial sessions with this wonderful mop-topped child to support him in his educational journey.

Picture a parade of syllables, math facts, yawns, world maps, topic sentences, laughter, questions, answers, assignment notebooks, partnership, paragraphs, three-ring binders, intellectual curiosity, pencils, erasers, worksheets, test prep, essays, and research papers.

Picture a hip young man—mop-top long gone in favor of a straightened, half-red, undercut 'do' with a high temple fade and some racing stripes on one side—about to graduate from eighth grade and start high school in the fall.

Blink!

Stylin'
3x3.5"; acrylic, ink, pastel, collage, and machine stitching on paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract
2017
[gift]

Bouncing Around Like a Ping Pong Ball

I'm bouncing all over the place as I close out academic-year tutorials, schedule for summer and fall, plan a day trip to Maine, prepare for a vacation in Canada, and paint cards for babies, birthdays, weddings, graduations, and condolences.

Today I take two 12/24" canvases I received for my birthday (thanks again, Scott!) and activate them.

Collage on one, paint marker on both.

Buh-bye, blank white canvas surfaces!

activating two 12/24" canvases

One Heart

One of the ways I hold someone else in my heart is by painting.

I painted The Long Run with Beth in my heart. I cannot truly know the depth of her loss. Cannot know her grief, her disorientation, her resilience.

But I can paint for her and hold her in my heart.

---

Very few people,
maybe one,
maybe none,
stay with you for the long run.
It's a kind of miracle
if someone's with you
for the long run.
A kind of miracle,
I'd say.

—Jane McCafferty, One Heart

The Long Run
3x4"; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2017
[gift]

Art and Money!

Last week Jean-Michel Basquiat's 1982 painting, untitled and depicting a skull, sold for $110.5 million.

Last evening, three paintings of mine (titled) (no skulls) were on display at the opening of a Compassion and Appreciation for the Natural World fundraising exhibit for the World Wildlife Fund, where the take was good … but not quite $110.5 million.

Nonetheless, what an honor to have my paintings accepted to the exhibit, and to have my art participate in quiet activism. The exhibit was sponsored by Compassion Anthology, an organization/publication that promotes compassionate thought and action through the arts. This current exhibit/fundraiser is supported by the Beverly Arts District, and benefits the World Wildlife Fund in its mission to help those in business and government make sound decisions regarding natural resources and the environment in general, holding paramount the protection of vulnerable species, places, and communities worldwide.

This was a first adventure for me in exhibiting. I was delighted by and grateful for the presence of family, friends, and tutoring clients who supported both me and the WWF at the opening last night. I learned a tremendous amount through the prep I did for submitting and showing my work, totally enjoyed stepping out of my day-to-day routines to meet other artists and have the gift of conversations with 'my people,' and came away with both leads to follow and a palpable sense of a shift in my art life to move more fully into the world beyond my own four studio walls.

Hanging Out Together and Stoned Soul Picnic
rubbing shoulders with other paintings in the Compassion exhibit opening

Moo, Schmoo!

DIY business cards—way fun!

I ask you, does moo.com start with a hay-scented heaven? I think not.

I began with some free-form scribbles and a bunch of torn-paper collage. From there I painted and stenciled and added pastel until I was ready to head to the paper trimmer. 

Ta da!

Here I Am, Day 5 (and final)

How did I get here?

Not at all where I thought I might land.

But …

Here. I. Am.

Christina's Café
3x4"; acrylic, ink, pencil, collage, and oil pastel on paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract
2017
[gift]

One and Only

I have to say again, here is one of the magnets of painting that pulls me in again and again:

painting is just so right here and now. 

The piece I made today? The piece I make any day? Unique.

It is the product of what comes together in the moments of making of it, and is like nothing else that came before or will come after.

Some of what came together:

• card stock passed to me twenty years ago,
• my paper trimmer,
• one eighth of an exercise I did for my Jane Davies class late last summer,
• collage paper I made from cleaning excess paint off my brush sometime in 2017,
• a Posca paint pen,
• texture sheets,
• a sunny cool day in May following a surprise heat wave the prior three days,
• wanting to write a postcard to my dad,
• wordless intuitions, and
• whoever I was when I painted.

The Specifics of What Had Passed Between Them
4x5"; acrylic, ink, and collage on paper; mounted on card stock
abstract
2017
[gift]