Posts Tagged ‘painting’

“Yes, the wind came up–” Mrs. Sharpe began. She paused. “And changed us all,” Petra said softly.” ― Blue Balliett, The Calder Game

Eyes Wide Shut, graphite on paper, A4 (8x10)

Eyes Wide Shut, graphite on paper, A4 (8×10)2015 —

The story Continues….

In my 3 decades as a professional artist, I learned that no one survives on talent alone. It takes sponsors with connections, galleries with connections, and other artist willing to bring you along with them up the ladder, and most importantly it’s all about timing.

I knew nothing of these things in those early days as I was wrapped in the warmth, comfort and magic of the great grandfather mountains of Santa Fe, my illusions were undauntable, my addictions intense; because for me it was all about the paint. I jumped into that rich emulsifying pool of art and swam with the sharks never realizing that what I was painting was unique and would give way to a lifetime of exploration, adventures and more failures and rewards than I could even imagine.

Those first years I rode the western wind which allowed me to define what I would paint giving me my women in robes who took center stage and brought much acclaim as I participated in multiple shows dealing with women in art. My landscapes of Stairs and Awnings brought my first exclusive contact with a gallery. Everything clicked; I was in the right place at the right time with the right stuff. I became a member of a very small group of 5 artists called the Multi-Cultural Artist Group and we painted large murals on the sides of many buildings in Santa Fe. The one on the old Records and Archives Building on Guadalupe St is now considered a local landmark. In addition I was elected to the Board of Directors of the Santa Fe Society of Artists. I began teaching on the side to mostly young and talented teens. My reputation was growing, and it was quietly said I had created a new genre.

Five years in Santa Fe and then we moved to Tijeras, New Mexico. By then I was represented by 2 galleries in Florida, one in Houston and a third small gallery in Albuquerque. My work was too different to be considered “New Mexican” and I rarely sold within the state. Aside from the galleries, I was getting into multiple competitions nationwide taking many awards.

Twelve years later as my work was continually growing and evolving with the times, the west wind changed course bringing a warm southernly breeze that entered the window one cold Thanksgiving and a seed was planted. It was watered by my love for the woman who was my aunt but whom I thought of as a mother, one who came to me and begged a favor.

When I could not say no, another path opened, this one darker. In my Pollyannaness, I did not know at that time it would require every ounce of my heart and soul, every fiber of my being in order to accomplish was was set before me, and to survive the battle to come. My husband would latter say that my whole life was leading up to this point, and was preparing me for the final confrontation with Capitán.

I would not pick up a paintbrush or a pencil for the next five years.

“A single slim trunk – Branches that bow in a storm – Green, leathery leaves with a soft centre – Glittering against blue sky – White bark scarred, bleeding – Heart wide-open – Bandaged, but upright she stands… ” ― Fadia Faqir, The Cry of the Dove

Traveling on the Spine of the Dragon (2005)- acrylic on canvas - 182x137 cm (72x54) -

Traveling on the Spine of the Dragon (2005)- acrylic on canvas – 182×137 cm (72×54) –

The story continues……….

There was a bit of  trouble writing this part, unsure as to the feelings my memory evoked, words eluded me for a while, I was interrupted by the holidays but clarity returned and I condensed it all…..

My friend who had sold my car met the plane and after one look rushed me to the hospital where I was loaded up with antibiotics.  Confident I was on the road to healing I asked him to drive me down to Galveston where I would stay with my grandmother until I was better and could make some clear-headed decisions.

When we arrived, he said he would wait to make sure she was there and everything was all right, so I headed up the walk, onto the porch and rang the bell.  My mother answered the door with “ You! And what are you doing here?”   Surprised and a just a little miffed, I explained I had just gotten back from my sailing adventure, managed to get a massive infection and was planning on spending a few days with “mawmaw”  to heal and rest until I could make plans.

“Well you will have to make other plans,” my sweet mother said. “Your grandmother died two months ago, I now own the house, your sister is living here and there really is no room for anyone else.”   “Well, then,” I commented, “let me get my things from the attic and I will be on my way.”   “I sold everything.”  My mother said.  “Why?” I asked.  “We had no idea when you would be back and those two boxes were taking up room I needed.”  “I see”, said I, “well I will just leave you to it and move on, nothing here for me obviously.”  As I headed down the walk back to the car she called out “Let me know if you need anything.”   All I could do was laugh.

Quietly I closed the door of the car and asked my friend to just drive.  Once we were headed back to Houston I told him what had happened.  He said his wife would be glad to have me at the house and offered to put me up for a few days until I could find a job and a place to live.

The next day I bought a few clothes and started the search for a job. The Sunday classifieds offered a position with the University of Texas School of Public Health (now the Health Science Center) for an administrative assistant in the International Health Module.  I set up an interview on Monday and was hired that afternoon. I would be working with two professors: an epidemiologist and a demographer.  By Wednesday I found a furnished garage apartment walking distance from the school and moved in the next day.

I loved everything about my job, my bosses, the students, the Dean, the environment, I felt most fortunate.  I even was given the opportunity at night to teach a non-credit language course in Spanish and in French for use in rural communities.

The more involved with the school I became, the more I wanted to continue my own education.  My other sister had been in touch with me letting me know that when my grandmother died she had left a sizeable amount of money in a trust fund for her grandchildren’s education.  My mother’s brother had been made executor of the trust and I would need to contact him to apply to the board.  He was a captain on one of Lykes Lines cargo ships and it was not difficult to find out his schedule and arrange a possible meeting the next time he was in port.

Two months later I received a call from my uncle inviting me on-board for dinner, the ship would be in Houston in 3 days and we could discuss the trust’s provisions.  At the appropriate time I took a cab out to the port and went aboard.  The captain’s cabin was quite large with a small office/dinning area.  The meal was wonderful, the conversation informative and I was looking forward to having my expectations fulfilled when my uncle asked me to come over to the desk so he could give me forms to complete and send in to the board of directors.

As I approached the desk he turned to face me, grabbed my hands with one of his and slapped me hard with the other knocking me down to the floor. He then proceeded to hit me again, pulled up my skirt, ripped off my underwear and while I lay there stunned, he raped me.  Climbing off of me he said, “ You are not the good little whore your father said you were, so get out of here! …and don’t expect this family to do anything for you.”

Humiliated, shamed, in pain, and partial shock, I straightened my clothes, gathered my purse, held my head high, left the ship, found a taxi and went back to my apartment where I laid in a tub of hot water shaking, unable to feel clean, unable to get warm. I called in sick the next day and the day after.  The swelling around my mouth had gone down but my mind was in turmoil, shadows flooded the dark memories, but I could not hold onto the whirlwind in my heart and soul, so I let it all sink back into the darkness.  As I lay there, in that dark dank cave, I looked up, found a shred of light, pulled up my socks and just moved forward. It was the only thing I knew how to do best.

The months passed, work consumed me, I made new friends, I joined groups, I spent my evenings in the bowels of Rice Universities’ library where I read every book I could find on cultural anthropology, my favorite subject.

December arrived and with it a phone call from Capitán offering me a job as Operations Manager for a Yacht Charter he had just established in the Galapagos Islands with two diesel-powered 60’ converted fishing boats.  He was having difficulty finding someone to handle the job as well as the crew and I was, he said, his last resort.

I have no explanation for what I did next.  I accepted the offer.   The only thing I can think of is that at the time, my torn, battered and broken mind was damaged beyond any reasonable repair.  The invisible bandage I wore covered my delusional state, and in that twisted madness, I saw his offer as an opportunity for my personal redemption.

I hung up the phone and cried, making small cooing sounds like the doves that sat on my windowsill each morning.

Within the week I was back in Ecuador showing no sign of what the past year had wrought.



“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” ― Douglas Adams

Memory of Water ,oil on canvas, 61x76cm (24x30)

Memory of Water ,oil on canvas, 61x76cm (24×30)

Outside of the bowl now, I am drinking what seems like gallons of water, and I want more.  I sense what the land must feel; every drop of water sucked in and ravished, desperate to quench a deep thirst.

Clouds form, rain falls, the scent of moisture fills the nostrils, but it never reaches the ground. Evaporating in mid-air.  They call it “Verga”.  You can look up, see it, smell it, even taste it on a dry tongue, but it will not touch you.  With 4% and less humidity everything is brown, evergreens have a tan cast to them, the drought here is considered medium, I do not want to think what it would be if severe.  The wind howls, dust rises from the grassless, horse trodden arenas that fill this area of suedo ranchers, and seeps into the tiniest cracks of my house. It swirls across empty land or down dirt roads in huge dust devils filled with grit, small pebbles and pieces of tumbleweeds. My truck trembles when hit.

So very little snow this year, hardly any rain, I think about our well. Others in the area have gone dry, from misuse of water, or drying aquifers.  Water hauling has become big business. We are more fortunate than some, situated in a bowl of the valley on a good aquifer, a deep fault, but I do not think our conserving water makes any dent as the consumption around us increases with more houses, more people, more horses.

The world has become that way, nothing is held sacred, especially respect for the land.  Just 20 years ago there was a law here in New Mexico, that there could only be one house per 5+ acres, because of the shortage of water. But that changed as more and more people left the cities for the countryside and housing was built on 1-acre lots. There was money to be made, people were willing to pay for the hard water brought up from deep aquifers so they could plant grass, plant moisture loving trees and plants as if water was without end. Restaurants, shops, schools, theaters, and all the other accessories of life developed around the new housing to fill the needs of the people. More traffic, more roads, more water.

This year the coyotes are gone, the nights are silent. Is it because of the drought? Because of the great coyote kill off by the macho humans with guns pretending to do a community service in spite of a national outcry? I know not. Because they are gone, the rabbit population has increased three-fold, and with lack of grass, lack of water they are eating anything green they can find, including my tulips and now they are working on the emerging day lilies. I will not plant a garden this year. I will grow some indoor kitty greens to keep the cats from munching on the long leaf plants in the house due to lack of any grass outside.

The owls left the year before and the mice and small rodent population increased. However, my cats are quite busy and happy about that situation.

Our regular bird population is changing. A few are still around but there are new birds coming in to eat at the feeder and drink thirstily at the water bowl.

I see a pattern forming and the best any of us can do is to at least try to do our part in this brave new world of changing climate.

But I know most won’t. Sacrifice is not part of our human nature, much less we concede that everything is connected and there are consequences to our actions.  We, as a species, have become quite self consumed and awareness of anything out side of our safe little cocoon is short-lived and unimportant.  No mater how terrifying, shameful or devastating the incident may be. “Tsk, tsk”, we say, then we go back to protecting ourselves, our individual special interest, and the world moves on as if nothing changed.

So it seems.

One day we will all pay the price, after all nothing comes free.  We have evolved great technology, we have not evolved as a species in many centuries; so the odds of us learning anything from the past, is quite dim.

However, if per chance, one day we do wake up, I will be long dead, knowing I at least tried to do my part.

My thirst will be quenched.


“If you fall into a mud hole, check your pockets, you may have caught a fish.” Darrell Royal

Captured Fish, oil on canvas, 77x102 (30x40)

Captured Fish, oil on canvas, 77×102 (30×40)



When my painting “Houses of Moon Mesa” was accepted into the Masterworks exhibit, I was astonished and honored at the same time.  Astonished because I had entered it for fun, knowing those that run this organization are realist and what I do is far from that genre. Including the fact that I had been rejected so many times, entering had become a game. Honored because I was recognized.  But then I went to the opening.  The first thing I saw was the best of show award. A large painting worked in pallet knife of a nude woman lying on a sofa in front of large windows. It was supposed to be a realistic play of light and shadows. But the figure was ill-proportioned, some of the shadows so heavy and badly worked they looked like square pieces of lead inserted into the painting.  I figured this person must be a relative of the juror, no one in their right mind would consider this a best of show piece.

I walked away.

There were quite a few very good pieces, some exceptional pieces, lots of awarded work; and the rest: traditional realistic New Mexico landscape and still life in oil, acrylic and watercolor.  As I walked though the two main rooms the effect was rather eclectic. One thing did stand out in my mind, the fact that the only thing I could not see among all the oils and acrylic paintings was my painting.

As I entered the third room off the main entrance where all the watercolors and miniatures were exhibited, there was my painting, stuck near a semi-unlit corner. It looked so very out-of-place surrounded by all the little pastel colored student quality watercolors. Lost, alone, not like anybody else’s work but bravely hanging there for anyone to see.  However, no one was looking at what was obviously considered work that could not be hung anywhere else; they were looking at the well-lit miniatures. I truly felt nothing, just empty.

I sighed and walked away.

The Number 3.

Things do happen in three’s.  So here was mine: definitely being insulted by my former little gallery; the strange and slightly evil encounter with that person without a sign and now this……..messages on the wind…..omens of things to come…coincidences without rhyme or reason, or perhaps the writing on the wall?

So like a little red fish in a big bowl of crystalline water I swim in circles, questioning and looking for answers.

Perhaps there is another message in the stars I have yet to read or understand, perhaps if I close my eyes and click my heels three times…………..But the truth shines quite clear in spite of what my foolish heart would like to believe.  The gold fish hour has arrived, time to stop swimming in circles and figure out how to jump out of the bowl without dying.



“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” Newton’s Third Law of Motion

Land Treads, oil on canvas, 77x102 cm (30x40)

Land Treads, oil on canvas, 77×102 cm (30×40)

I think we have lost our innocence. I think we have lost common sense. I think as a society we have peaked.  I think we are becoming as callous as the perpetrators who kill and maim.  I think we are loosing empathy and are heading towards becoming more militaristic……de-evolving into a third world made up of Christian zealots wanting to take us back to the dark ages, radical gun totting, shoot first, ask questions later, idiots spreading unnecessary fear; Corporations spending quadrillions to convert us to their cause, slowly changing the fabric of this country. I think our legislators live in fear of loosing their jobs, fighting for personal agendas rather, than doing what is right for the country as a whole.  Now that the dumbing of America is complete, now that art has become a mediocre pastime, now that we have become one-dimensional nearly incapable of critical thinking, now that technology has eliminated the need for verbal conversations, now that we are more isolated from each other than ever in spite of social networking………. I think we are so very close to the edge of chaos………and out on the parameter are those like me, a small but mighty group going: ayyyyyyeeeeee!!!!.

Ok, now I feel better.

I guess this is all part of the process; everyone carries the seeds of their own destruction, their own Karma, even counties.  If you believe that Newton’s Third Law of Motion applies only to physics you are soooo very wrong.  It applies to everything and everybody! Do a little research and you will find there are no coincidences in this world. Things are happening simultaneously everywhere. We are all so connected it can be frightening, or enlightening. I prefer the latter.

All right I will step down from my visionary soapbox and look at the amusing side of the current reality:

Three weeks ago I was hired by Home Depot!  Whoo Hoo I yelled for the world to hear.  Unfortunately I have also fallen though the cracks once again… Home Depot has lost my paperwork and though I exist in name only…they are having trouble making sure I really exist.  Hahahahaha! As if that was something new to my experience in life!  So I will be patient and see if they can find me.

In the meantime, my painting The Red Thread is off to The Armory for the Arts exhibit in Palm Beach Florida.  This weekend my Women and Fish Drawings will be part of a two-person show at the Watermelon Gallery in Cedar Crest and I am busy working on the 4th in the series (number 3 is above: Land Threads).  This series is evolving into something different and I do not know where it is going, but I like it!

AND… like a bit of icing on the cake, I have a drawing student.  Yes one student, it is quite wonderful, I am not as useless as I thought!!!

I also survived another birthday …….so, January was a very interesting month indeed…… I am now ready for the rest of the year!




“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in the space between are the doors of perception”  Aldous Huxley

Red Thread 2oil on canvas, 77x102 cm (30x40)

Red Thread 2
oil on canvas, 77×102 cm (30×40)

Between the dark and the light there is grey. Between the ocean and the mountains there are the fields and valleys. Between dreams and illusions is reality and between love and hate truth endures. In my musings, I have found that truth does not set you free; what it does do is create awareness and shines a light on a path, giving you a choice to follow or not.  I choose to follow.

A new year, a six-year, a year of extended possibilities.  Perhaps it is because of the shift in conscience that occurred on December 21, 2012 that a rush of clarity floods my mind. I have no words to define what is happening as images and scenarios’ play out in my head, and I see myself as I have never seen before. I see so much – I do not know what to do with the information!  I am not exactly pleased with what I have found. They say your life speeds before your eyes before you die.  I do not think I am dying but this is as good an explanation as any as to what is happening except in slow motion.  Word by word, action by action, stripped of illusion, stripped of perceived reality, the nakedness of it all takes my breath away as I silently watch like a bystander in my own life.

My little seasonal job is over with the season! They said they would give me a good recommendation.  Made me smile, what shall they say? “She did an excellent job of wrapping gifts and of packing boxes for shipment.” Cannot get any lower on the totem pole, and it has become apparent that retail has no real need for someone like me, so I guess its time to try a different direction, to climb back up a bit! Time to re-file all those job applications again, and hope it being a 6-year people will look pass my age and see what an asset I would be!  Hahahah! Hard to do in a country that thrives and survives on youth. Sigh. I do not give up easily!

Canvas and paint were under the tree…above it is the second painting as images flood my mind. If I can hold onto it, I will do a series of “swan song” paintings. A few have told me over the years, that my life and my paintings have been an eternal exploration into the question of “who am I?” I have tried to deny it, calling it other things that reflect the appropriate “artspeak”; but the truth is quite evident now, and no matter how I may venture off into other subject matters, I always return to the core.  It is what I do, it is who I am.  So, I will paint what I have discovered.

It is a kind of truth that lies in the spaces of my soul.

“I am only a sparrow amongst a great flock of sparrows.” Evita Peron


charcoal & oil on paper25x36 cm (10x14)

charcoal & oil on paper
25×36 cm (10×14)

Flocks of dusty blue colored birds with darker blue heads, come to the feeder every day. In groups of 25 –50 plus, they eat all the seed, all the suet, drink all the water and move on.  The ring neck doves and smaller birds just wait patiently, then peck at the remains.  I go out and re-fill the tray, re pack the suet cage, re-fill the water bowl, knowing tomorrow another group will come.  It’s beginning to get expensive, aside from looking like something out of a Hitchcock movie!  It is the first time ever I have seen so many birds at the feeder. Perhaps it is because the weather is still basically fall with warm days and freezing nights; there are even robins still dancing around.  This will soon change we are being told, as a front moves in next week and winter may finally come, bringing perhaps, maybe, ok we’re not sure, some much-needed moisture in the form of rain or show.

Am enjoying my seasonal job, but what few hours I have are being cut for lack of business.  It’s happening everywhere a true trickle down effect of fear of what will happen come January.  Stupid games congress plays are hurting everyone. But I am thankful for the hours that I have, not much I can do about it anyway!

Art wise I am playing around with movement and color, doing some random sketches working in charcoal and oil on paper (sketch 1 above).  Keeps me out of trouble, kills time, and helps me to loosen up my structured self.  Put together another book of drawings. This one is Women and Fish, it’s for sale on-line at Blurb ( ) and I will sell copies at the exhibit of the those drawings in February at The Watermelon Gallery here on the mountain.

Been having strange deep dreams, terribly symbolic. One in particular stands above the rest:  I was getting a painting ready for an exhibit when I noticed the right side was torn and the stretcher broken.  I did my best to fix it and holding it in front of me I asked an unknown entity how did it look.  “Something is wrong”, they said. When I looked down at the painting, it and I had melded together. I turned my head and saw in a rear mirror my human back and legs.  I awoke distressed. Took me a few days to see beyond the symbolism, and I realized that not only were my paintings and I one, but they defined who I was.  Notice the past tense here, because this is why I feel so lost at times.  When something that defines you is taken away, it takes a bit of magic to redefine who and what you are! I am still working on that aspect.

Well, enough of that! Besides the end of the world is coming, or at least a change in world conscience, I can only hope for the latter.  So if we all survive that….and we actually get some snow, well the rest is pudding for a Christmas dinner.


“A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.” – Steve Martin


Beach Chair, oil on canvas, 77×102 cm (30×40)


This past Friday a storm was moving in as I headed back home from checking the mail. The heavy, dark and ominous clouds were moving off to the northeast as small ice pellets hit the windshield. The sun was still shining to the south so I knew the storm had side-skirted my house in the valley.

As I rounded a curve in the dirt road heading toward the first cattle guard, the inside of the truck suddenly lit up with an intensely bright diffused light making me come to a full stop. I looked to my right and the sun was shinning, I turned to my left ……. my heart skipped a beat and I think I stopped breathing.  There before my eyes almost close enough to touch was the most magnificent double rainbow I had ever seen. I was bathed in this reflected celestial light and I just broke into unexplainable joyous giggles.

Never before had I experienced anything so magnificent. It felt like my whole being was flying, beyond exhilaration, awash in something truly magical. I reluctantly continued my journey home, a smile permanently fixed to my face, keeping my eye on the rainbow in the rear view mirror until I descended the last ridge and it disappeared from view.

That exhilaration stayed with me until the next day and then I crashed, falling off an emotional cliff, tumbling down to the bottom of a deep lake where I found a cracked mirror. In that mirror I saw a reflection of myself and my deepest fears. For a brief time anxiety reigned, until once again I found balance.

Whew! What a ride!

This awareness thing is quite an experience.  It has been an interesting week.

I finally have a job….….WhooHoo! … Williams Sonoma. Abet it is only until February but I am truly grateful.  Was suppose to start last week but corporate has delayed schedule making and I was feeling a bit apprehensive as I turned down two other offers of seasonal work. Then on rainbow Friday,  as it will forever be known, I received an e-mail saying my work (see painting above) will be one of three that will be used to promote the exhibit at the Coral Springs Museum of Art in Coral Springs, Florida, happening December 4th, that was special indeed.

Yesterday, being back in balance, I finished another painting I had been working on to add to my “Houses” series. I also ordered swiss clips so I could start framing the Women and Fish drawings for the show in February. Too expensive to have them  really framed so mounting them in Plexiglass is the best alternative. Today I crated and shipped my painting off to Florida; now the deck is clear,  I stand ready to go to work, if I can get a schedule!!!!

Had a dream once, a very long time ago, where I was in the forest and there was a shaft of liquid light. There were shadow people everywhere and disembodied voices told me to go stand in the light and make a wish. In the dream, I walked into the light and felt drenched in the most glorious feeling of joy and peace.  Then I awoke, holding onto the knowledge that something truly magic had transpired and I was changed.

Sitting in my truck bathed in the light of the rainbow was just like that dream……..just a little bit of magic to let you know, nothing is what it seems.

Isn’t life grand?



“I have dined with kings and danced with paupers.” Anonymous

Woman with Fish and Dog
oil on canvas, 112×92 cm (44×36)

In my late twenties I was convinced that there would be no social security by the time I was ready to retire. However, at the time, that did not matter too much as I was also convinced I would be dead by the time I was 35.

Never shy about entering an open door, when I graduated from college I hit the world like a windstorm. I finally settled down a bit in my late 20’s, got married, made use of my education and became an artist; but by then I had already been more places, done more things, had more adventures than most people do in a lifetime.  Nothing was planned. No thinking ahead. Just seeing life as a never-ending adventure, riding whatever wave came my way. When I think about it, I must have gone through time warps to manage fitting so much into so little time.

I am not bragging, just stating facts; and telling you this because of my new continuing awareness. Realizing I am where I am today because of that lifestyle. Spent so much time teetering on the edge of  the cliff, I think I may have spouted permanent roots. So now I am wondering, if I haven’t died already by accident or fault of another, or some earthly disaster, or physical malady, then I am still around for a purpose.  And if part of this purpose is understanding everything or seeing everything with such clarity……..does that mean when there is nothing left to see or learn or do – I will die?

Mind you, I have no fear of death; it would be like moving on to the next adventure. Well we can’t live forever, although I would not mind giving it a try for one or two centuries. I would also like being rich for a few years.  I would like the opportunity to do something really good with a great deal of money. Maybe that is why I am poor!  Hahaha! Anyway, my mind tends to play scenarios with itself as I find new ways to amuse my days.

Last week I received a most marvelous letter from the President of the National Association of Women Artists in New York.  A very old and prestigious organization of which I am proud to be a long-standing member. In the letter, she complimented me on my work, said some pretty wonderful things and added that the organization was honored to have me as a member.  Whew! Took my breath away for a moment, made me feel very fortunate, very humbled, very honored. Never before have I received such a letter.

On another front, the food pantry asked me to come back!  One of their employees lives close to me and has offered to give me a ride into town twice a week and back home again.  Next week I can do something constructive again, even if it is just as a volunteer!  Went into town earlier this week and submitted my application to a few high-end retail stores and a bakery complimenting my existing on-line applications.  With the holiday season coming around, something even temporary, may come into being.  I am hopeful

The new painting above: Woman with Fish and Dog, is a recycled canvas…. I have 6 more that can be painted over without causing me too much agony.  This one is definitely a melding of the fish drawings and Works in Blue. Felt a need to paint one of my women again, even though the market for such work died a slow death with the recession.

I am also working on a new painting for my ongoing Houses series, which I have hopes of one day, before I die, actually having a show with the complete works all together!

The Balloon Fiesta is over, all the tourist have gone home and with them the cold snap.  Indian Summer has settled into the high mountains. The air crisp, dry and clean, the sky an intense blue, the nights cold.  The days seem to quietly flow one into another here as I work in my studio, or sit at the computer with nowhere to go and less to do. I find in my heart, I am dining with kings and dancing with paupers!

Not too shabby…..








“A lie would have no sense unless the truth were felt to be dangerous.” – Alfred Adler

Invitation for New Zealand Exhibit

I have been experiencing a strange sense of awareness. A feeling of having already experienced things I just learn about or is about to happen.  Not unlike feeling like you’ve reached the end of the internet when every forward you get you’ve seen before.  Like that but different.  Not deja vu, but a future vu!  It sometimes stops me in my tracks and grabs hold of my conscience with a clarity  I really wish I could explain.

It is not helpful in any way I can think of.  It brings no peace, no satisfaction….I just see things with such completeness, coupled with understanding, mixed with fragility….not everything, just somethings, less important things, things of no consequence or better said, no known consequence.

Whatever it is, it just is………perhaps its nothing more than living in the season of lies that have become truths to some and half-truths meant to deceive; of watching the vivid hatefulness of one political party against the other in real-time, on the streets in public places, the never-ending fear mongering.  Whatever happens this election, our divided America will get what it asks for and like anything we ask for, there will be consequences. There always seem to be consequences. Nothing is free, a price must be paid.  Not unlike sacrifices of olden days to appease the gods.

On another front, there is still no job, no job offers, no phone calls, no nothing.  I had to stop my volunteer work in town. The cost of gas had become too much. With money going out and noting coming it, cuts had to be made. I had a choice:  use the $100.00 a month it was costing me to drive into town just to give myself something of value to do twice a week, or put it towards keeping my art alive.  Art won. They did not understand, it was I thought, rather amazing for an organization dealing with the poor. Or perhaps it as simple as: if you don’t act or look poor, how can you be poor?  So many levels of poor, a matter of perception. I am better than some, worse than others.

The two little paintings I sent to New Zealand in the spring will be part of a 4-person exhibit at the Lake House Gallery outside of Auckland the end of this month (see invitation above)!  My saved $100.00 will pay the entry fee and shipping cost for another exhibit I will be part of at the Coral Springs Museum of Art in Florida come November. That will finish off the year.

Priorities.  I will just have to find a way to amuse myself after next week as I send out more resumes and keep my fingers crossed. I am officially out of canvas but still have tons of paper and there are a few canvases that would not be missed if painted over. Being a creative and intuitive person, I am sure that is a goal I can accomplish.  Perhaps I can also figure out my little future visions and what they mean.

Perhaps I’ll even find a job or sell paintings, or find out pigs can really fly! hahahaha!   I am so ready for the grand awakening of consciences that the Mayans predicted!