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Locked Rooms

4/28/2025

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Locked Rooms


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"Locked Rooms" acrylic on wood panel,  16 x 20 x .25 inches.  This item is unframed. (click on the image to purchase)

​I want to ask you, dear sir, as best I can, to have patience about everything that is still unresolved in your heart; try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms, like books written in a truly foreign language. Don’t look for the answers now: they cannot be given to you yet because you cannot yet live them, and what matters is to live everything. For now, live the questions. If you do, then maybe, gradually, without your realizing it, some far-off day you will live your way into the answer. - RAINER MARIA RILKE 

I am often very patient with others.  Not always, of course, but often.

I am not easily patient with myself.

Learning to love the questions themselves has been a big part of my journey the past couple of years,  Staring at the doors of those locked rooms and resisting the urge to grab a toolbox and remove the doors.  Instead, allowing all the time needed for the doors to open, or (heaven forbid) to remain closed.  Mustering up a bit of faith that what needs to be revealed shall be.  And what isn't brought into the light isn't meant to yet.
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​My impatience makes me feel awkward, clumsy, like this character perhaps.

It isn't the first time I've painted a young werewolf with a balloon.  It symbolizes something to me...in this case, I think the balloons might be joy, and the werewolf doesn't want to look at them in case they may disappear.  Joy can be elusive, especially since our brains are primed to look for trouble instead.  

Perhaps joy is yet a book written in a foreign language on some days.  But I plan to sit and wait, as patiently as one can, for the words to make sense.

About the art:  Something new for me this week.  Of course I have painted on wood panel before, but not with the objective of making the wood itself part of the art.  Beginning with a high quality wood panel (this one from Jacksons), I covered it with a good coat of clear varnish.  Once dry, I sketched the character on the wood, taped off the center section and added a coat of black gesso for the background.  The rest was a very patient labor of love with the smaller Uni Posca Paint Pens used in the same way as Rotring Tikky pens for pen and ink drawings.  Just black and white, simplicity and a bit of innocence.  The wood tone comes through in parts of the garment and body, warming up what might otherwise be a bit too stark.  This one makes me smile. 

Congratulations to Julie (aka Mighty Athena on Bluesky)!  Wonder Mike drew your name at random as winner of the April Reader Giveaway!  Send your mailing address to [email protected] and your prize will be in the mail!

​Thank you to everyone who commented in April.  Your participation means the world to me!  A new contest begins today - leave a comment on any blog post in the month of May to be automatically entered.

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The Loneliness of Being Ourselves

2/17/2025

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The Loneliness of Being Ourselves

​

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​
"The Loneliness of Being Ourselves" - oil on plywood, 19 x 29 x .5 inches.  This item is unframed but ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)

Moments like these jolt us awake from the dream of perfect understanding, stagger us with the realization that no one ever really knows what it is like to be somebody else, that between one consciousness and another there always gapes an abyss black as the inside of a skull, and though we may try to reach each other with love and reason, they twine but a tenuous footbridge across it. The best we can do is hold on to the ropes and hope that they will not fray before we reach the rim of understanding, the outer edge of the other, which is all we can ever touch — and still it is enough, this sliver of salvation from the loneliness of being ourselves, this outstretched hand across the icy blue.  - THE MARGINALIAN 
Have you ever experienced loneliness when you were not actually alone?  As an inward leaning human, I often feel loneliest in large groups of people, far away from the outer edge of the other.  Somewhere in another galaxy, perhaps?

In one-on-one settings,  it is easier for me to hold on to the ropes and to reach for the edges of another person.  But even then, as the quote points out, I can see the abyss between myself and the inner workings of another person.

Now, place all of this into a society becoming more fractured, further apart in values and beliefs and there emerges a wide chasm of misunderstanding and non-understanding between people.  I gaze across that wide canyon and cannot see my way across, find myself leaning more and more in the other direction.  Turning inward, staying safe.
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But I have an inkling that turning inward isn't going to help us move through this fracturing (though it is necessary for serenity and balance at times).  So I will keep reaching for those ropes and hope they will not fray in pursuit of understanding and connection.  I might need a fancy circus outfit, but that could be mischievously fun.

About the art:  this piece is painted over a murdered acrylic abstract painting.  For this one, I drew the composition directly on top of the prior piece using a wet brush and big, loose strokes.  The heavy texture of the original piece adds quite a bit of interest to the new piece, which might have otherwise looked too flat.  There are a LOT of layers in this one, all constructed with brushes.  No rubber wedges on this piece, as plywood prefers brushwork.  I think this house is in the perfect location for me - high on a hill with big skies and forests and rolling hills beneath.  I imagine the ocean is on the other side of the piece.  Oooooooh bliss!

The February Reader Giveaway continues!  Leave a message on any blog post this month to be automatically entered to win a free piece of original art.  And thank you so much to everyone who reads, comments and shares this blog!  Also, a big welcome to all the new subscribers from Bluesky.  I'm just dazzled by the friendly cyber-community!
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Rabbit, Aggrieved

1/20/2025

11 Comments

 
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Rabbit, Aggrieved



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"Rabbit, Aggrieved" - oil on yupo, 12.5 x 19 inches.  This item is unmounted and unframed.  (click on the image to purchase)

​"Hallo, Rabbit,” he said, “is that you?” "Let’s pretend it isn’t,” said Rabbit, “and see what happens. -  A. A. MILNE

Did I mention the rabbits have taken over the studio?  That rabbits multiply, on land and by paint?  The studio rabbits have determined it is their role to express societal emotions this year.  Aggrieved - feeling resentment at having been unfairly treated - hello, YES!

I'm not very good at feeling anger and its cousins (resentment, bitterness, irritation, frustration) because people have not really felt anger around me during my life - they've done anger.  And anger as an action is pretty shitty.
​So I've been given permission (homework, even!) to go ahead and feel aggrieved.  You mention one word of that to rabbits, and they've already made a banner and started a parade!  

It turns out there are benefits to feeling and expressing anger .  Anger is protective and reveals our boundaries.  Anger heals trauma.  And anger inspires action.

Anger unexpressed creates shame.  And shame resides in all kinds of places in the body.  Are your shoulders tight?  Got headaches?  Belly woes?  Anger wants you to stop leaving yourself.  Oh, oh and OH!

So what does healthy anger look like?  It is kind and firm. Think of it as assertive communication.  Something you pay attention to with kindness and curiosity before taking action.  

Unlike these rabbits, who just left the studio in a rampage and may end up on the evening news.  Sheesh!
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About the art:  this rabbit (the second in a series of  lagomorphs) was inspired by the works of Möbius and Diebenkorn.  Beginning with a rough sketch in thinned oil paint and slowly adding layers of color.  The trick with this one was getting the dark side very, VERY dark so the rabbit would hop out (ha ha) in a dramatic way.  Allowing the paint to slide down the Yupo toward the bottom is a nice softening of the hard edges higher up in the piece.  This guy is seriously thinking about how he feels before he does anything about it.  Good advice, rabbit!
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​The January Reader Giveaway continues!  Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered.  Someone is going to win an original piece of art - free!  
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Weary of Captivity

12/2/2024

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​"Weary of Captivity" - oil on cradled wood panel, 18 x 24 x 1.5 inches.  
​This item is unframed but ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)



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Weary of Captivity
If Adam Picked the Apple
There would be a parade,
a celebration,
a holiday to commemorate
the day he sought enlightenment.
We would not speak of
temptation by the devil, rather,
we would laud Adam’s curiosity,
his desire for adventure
and knowing.
We would feast
on apple-inspired fare:
tortes, chutneys, pancakes, pies.
There would be plays and songs
reenacting his courage.


But it was Eve who grew bored,
weary of her captivity in Eden.
And a woman’s desire
for freedom is rarely a cause
for celebration.  - Danielle Coffyn
​
Try as I may, I cannot stop the world at large from encroaching on my peace of mind.  And perhaps that peace should be disturbed given, well, everything.

The number of women (and, honestly, men of reason and knowledge and general humanness) who are raising their voices, eyebrows and hands over the growing marginalizing of females (not just females, no no no!  But women are my focus here today) is a growing cacophony to which I add my own voice and art.  

I have been learning to fully experience and express the grief of my own experiences recently, and serendipitously it is not just my own personal grief now, but the world at large.  And it is more than grief - there is a simmering cauldron of anger.
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I don't have the answers.  Just a growing sense of unease and concern.  And a willingness to be there for anyone who needs/wants to commiserate.

For the past year, as I process my own experiences I've been increasingly drawn to create ballgown-bots.  Largely faceless, masked cyborgian females with fancy garb.   At first they were cheeky, haunting, peculiar.  But now they have taken on a larger, societal meaning and a mission of their own.  Are they faceless because they are afraid and unseen?  Or because they are armored and shielded?

And so I am wondering - what do they mean to you, dear readers?

About the art:  this is a paint-over (oil over oil) of an existing piece, which adds a lovely depth of color and texture.  On a recent playdate with the AI bot, I wrote "pink backpack" and let it run.  There were many, many delightfully cheeky monsters and odd humans with backpacks of all sizes.  The whole session left me grinning!   One of them was more of a mash-up of victorian schoolgirl and cyberpunk ballgown-bot, which inspired this piece.  The goal here was the lovely limited palette and high contrast with loose, painterly brushstrokes.  

The December Reader Giveaway begins today!  Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered.  One (or more) lucky commenters will receive an original piece of art in the mail - free!  
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A Formula For The Future

11/25/2024

6 Comments

 
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"A Formula For The Future" - oil on canvas, 30 x 10 x .75 inches.
​This is unframed but ready to hang.  (click on the image to purchase)​



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above

We pop into life the way
particles pop in and out
of the continuum.
We are a seething mass
of probability.
And probably I love you.
The evil of larvae
and the evil of stars
are a formula for the future.
Some bodies can
thrust their arms into
a flame and be instantly
cured of this world,
while others sicken.
Why think, little brother
like the moon, spit out like
a broken tooth.
“Oh,” groans the world.
The outer planets,
the fizzing sun, here we come
with our luggage.
Look at the clever things
we have made out of
a few building blocks --
O fabulous continuum.


​​- STRINGS by RUTH STONE
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​We are a seething mass of probability.  And probably I love you.

Stone's words just grab me by the shoulders and beg me to STOP! LOOK! FEEL!  The very thing which I find so challenging to do when the world around is groaning.  But I am doing it, moment by moment.

 "Feeling is to be avoided!" my inner defenses shout.  Feeling will heal you and help others is the whisper from the wiser parts of me.  And so I am sitting in a heavy-bottomed way, a Weeble (remember those?), wobbling in the feelings but I won't fall down.

About the art:  this canvas has been murdered many times.  Layers and layers of overly precious brush strokes, dabs and do-das.  Each time I dragged the squeegee across it and said NO NO NO, that just won't do.  And finally, letting the feelings direct the painting, I allowed the darkness to hover, the drama and big strokes to take over, and the tiny bit of light to emerge.

And (drum roll please) - the winners of the November Reader Giveaway!  Congratulations to Nance F. and Emma F. - Wonder Mike chose your names at random from the pool of this month's commenters.  Send your mailing address to thewanderingsoflola!gmail.com  and your original artworks will be in the mail to you!  Big thanks to everyone who participated.  A new contest begins next month!
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Remember Everything

11/18/2024

12 Comments

 
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Remember Everything



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​
"Remember Everything" - oil on linen-wrapped canvas, 26 x 32 x 1.5 inches.  This is unframed but ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)


​“I don’t want to lose a single thread
from the intricate brocade of this happiness.  
I want to remember everything.”― Mary Oliver, FELICITY



There are many of us who are leaning toward becoming unraveled right now.  The temptation to lose the thread of our happiness is palpable.  

It's easy to understand.  I confess there are days I watch the metaphorical spool of thread rolling down the sidewalk, twisting and tangling in flotsam and jetsam until I feel discouraged - it is so much work to untangle and rewind the threads of our connections and beliefs.
​And yet...underneath this roiling maelstrom of dystopian events is a growing undercurrent of connectedness, compassion, feisty rebellion and hutzpah.  The intricate brocade of this happiness​ will not be so easily unraveled!  There is Kelly with her blue bracelets of safety, Helaine with her megaphone of DANGER WILL ROBINSON and Thea with her bottomless well of encouragement.  There's Liz with her community of rebellious artists, Erica the queen of crow memes, Sara of the tender heart and also my own husband's optimism and intellectual parsing that keeps my inner Calamity Jane at bay.  Dotty who asks "what if" and keeps her own blog readers curious and asking questions, Carl whose Herculean work ethic reminds us there are things to be done - no time for wallowing!  All of these and so many more who are glimmering, sparkling and glowing in the world, lighting up the exits and pointing the way forward.

I have the feeling my ball of twine is no longer at risk of unraveling completely.  Thank you, dear readers!
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About the art:  beginning with a well-gesso'd linen wrapped canvas and a long brush laden with thinned paint, I made a rough sketch of the figure, leaving the wing feathers mostly undefined.  To achieve a super dark background, I worked first from the outside-in, laying down a wash of darks and cutting in to the edges of the figure.  Then working from the inside outward and allowing the edges to blend in places with the wet darks.  A dance of back and forth between the inside to the outside and then the reverse to keep the darks building in intensity and some of the edges wispy.  The requisite 80 million layers on the wings and dress.  A month of drying time before coming in with a thin, wet brush to create the ball of "twine" and have it stand out from the rest of the piece.

The inspiration for this one came from the psilocybin journey I took over the summer, where I could "see" a feathery presence  gently protecting my heart and spirit.   Perhaps we all have wings...

The November Reader Giveaway continues!  Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered.

And the Once-a-Year Sale is ON NOW!  Get your original art while it lasts - the artist has murderous intentions with gesso!
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A Certain Interior Expansion

10/7/2024

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A Certain Interior Expansion


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"A Certain Interior Expansion" - oil on paper, 14 x 21 inches.  This item is unmounted and unframed.  (click on the image to purchase)


The venture into space is meaningless unless it coincides with a certain interior expansion, an ever growing universe within, to correspond with the far flight of the galaxies our telescopes follow from without… That inward world… can be more volatile and mobile, more terrible and impoverished, yet withal more ennobling in its self-consciousness, than the universe that gave it birth. - LOREN EISELEY

Eiseley's words grabbed me by both shoulders, shook me, looked me in the eye and said SEE? YOUR INWARD WORLD IS JUST LIKE A SCI-FI ADVENTURE!  Whoa!  Where's my spacesuit?  Let's gear up and GO!


​I don't know about you, dear reader, but as an anxious and introverted creative being I spend a lot of time looking inward.  It's not like I choose that particular adventure, it is just where my moon boots go.  They have a mind of their own.  And that inner world can, indeed, be volatile, mobile, terrible and impoverished.  But it can also be beautiful, vast, surprising and adventure-filled.  

Maybe that's what we're doing here, sharing paintings and words and things that inspire interior expansion.  Because it is quite challenging to share an interior view with those on the outside.  Yet art and words (and music and dance and photos and theater and and and!) allow us to get a glimpse of that galaxy of wonder in another that we may never otherwise see.  And once in a while, that glimpse informs and expands our own inner landscape and propels us to venture further.  Oh!!!
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About the art: another inspiration image from the AI bot that launched me into another world of paint exploration.  I asked for one thing, received another and then created something further afield than that.  Beginning with a very old acrylic painting on arches watercolor paper, I sketched the figure and began laying in the background colors loosely, allowing one color to blend into the next for an ombre effect.  Using light washes thinned with walnut oil, it takes a LOT of layers.   I embraced some hard shadows on the figure - skeletal? Cyborg? Alien?  Who knows?  But she likes her fancy clothes and isn't afraid to wear them with a helmet.  Using a small rubber wedge, I carved back into the wet paint layers in the dress to expose a bit of the underpainting.  I cannot help but wonder what she's thinking...

The October Reader Giveaway begins today!  Leave a comment on any of this month's blog posts to be automatically entered.  One (or more) lucky commenters will win a piece of original artwork - FREE!  Now that's a treat for your Halloween bag. :)
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Ask Much, Want More

9/2/2024

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"Ask Much, Want More" - oil on paper, 17 x 22.5.  This piece is unmounted and unframed. (click on the image to purchase)
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Ask Much, Want More

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Ask much, the voice suggested, and I startled.
Feeling my body like the trembling body of a horse
tied to its tree while the strange noise
passes over its ears.
I who in extremity had always wanted less,
even of eating, of sleeping.
Agile, the voice did not speak again, but waited.
“Want more” -
a cure for longing I had not thought of.
But that is how it is with wells.
Whatever is taken refills to the steady level.
The voice agreed, though softly, to quiet the feet of the horse:
A cup taken out, a cup reappears; a bucketful taken, a bucket.
 - JANE HIRSHFIELD, Ask Much, The Voice Suggested
Ask much?

Oh HO!  How the inner being quivers and shies away from the very thought of it.  

WANT MORE!  

How could I possibly?  

And yet...those of us who have experienced perhaps a less functional upbringing, a bit (or a lot) of trauma, the silencing of our asking, the muffling of our wants and needs - we need to ask much and want more.  Makes me shake in my very boots (​I startled...like the trembling of a horse)​

Hirshfield's "voice"  suggests a bucketful - so now I am thinking cargo tankers and blimps filled with my heart's desire.  Dare I?  Oh yes, I do.
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About the art:  Wonderland is never far from my imagination.  It was just a matter of time before the Queen of Hearts made another appearance.  And in this one, her voice VERY LOUD, she asks for (nay, DEMANDS) exactly what she wants.  This is one of those pieces that happened easily, relatively swiftly and without much gnashing of teeth.  A neutral underpainting, a quick sketch with brush and dark paint, layers of walnut-oil thinned paint on skin and clothing.  A little extra care with the focal point (her open mouth) and a full RESIST RESIST RESIST when I wanted to keep fussing with it.  I mean, if you get what you ask for, stop and enjoy it - don't keep fussing at it.  Sheesh.  Artists are troublesome. :)

The September Reader Giveaway has begun!  Leave a comment on a blog post this month and be automatically entered.  Leave multiple comments to be entered as many times!  The winner will be drawn at random at the end of the month, and will receive a piece of original art - free!  Hooray!
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Dolores on Tuesday

6/10/2024

6 Comments

 
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Dolores on Tuesday
"Dolores on Tuesday" - oil on cradled wood panel, 24 x 12 x 1.25.  Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)

“I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.”― C.S. Lewis

Sometimes, when we peel back the onion of anger, we find deep sorrow, grief and mourning.

Anger feels purposeful, feisty, empowered, action-oriented and (often) satisfying.  Grief, on the other hand, feels all of the opposite things - weak, low-energy, motionless, heavy.  It is so much easier to be mad than to be sad.

And so I am learning to be with my grief.  To let the feelings wash over and through me, buffeting me about a bit, seeping into all the nooks and crannies.  I am learning to be uncomfortable without pushing it away.  The more I practice this, the easier it gets.  And somehow, it is expansive.  I feel larger inside, instead of tense and tight and retracted.  

Dolores relaxes into her grief and oddly manages to make it look cool.  Who knew?

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About the art:  for this piece, I wanted to experiment with flat colors, line and contrast.  A long, flat brush held at a distance.  Hard edges.  A paint-laden rubber wedge pulled across under layers.  Unexpected color. Deep darks.  Oh!

The JUNE READER GIVEAWAY is here! 

This month I'm wondering -  what YOU do to refill your inspiration tank?
Leave a comment below.  One (or more) readers will win a piece of art - FREE!  
​
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Turning Within and Blossoming Without

4/8/2024

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Turning Within and Blossoming Without
​"Turning Within and Blossoming Without" - oil on cradled wood panel, 18 x 24 x 1.5 inches.  Ready to hang.  (click on the image to purchase)

Continuing our exploration of Maureen Seaton's Fiddleheads: 
​

​Similarly, when you hurt me, I curled like a mouse behind my third eye. I realize what an
odd thing it is to believe as I do in my third eye and the mouse behind it that furls like a fern


and whimpers like a fern being boiled on a monster stove beside its brothers and sisters.
Poor mouse. The things that make a person odd are odd themselves. Think of DNA,


the way it resembles the rope Jack climbed to secure his future and that of his aging Mom.
Or the way a sudden wave can drag a child under, that addiction to adrenalin, her


siblings farther away and more powerless than she ever imagined, the pure and ecstatic

irreversibility of undertow. It’s odd to come back to life, as they say, she came back to life.
- FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON

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Think of DNA, Seaton writes.

Oh, I do.  The things that make a person odd are odd themselves.  Oddly, 50% of my DNA is mysterious, of unknown origin, vague shadows of  Turkey and Italy and other unexpected lands.  An unknown father.  A story that died with my mother, before it was ever told.  It remains her secret.

It's odd to come back to life, says Seaton.  And yet we do, cycling through seasons of turning within and blossoming without, coming back to life when we rediscover lost parts of ourselves and when we discover new parts we perhaps never knew existed.  Seaton's words take us down into that dark valley, hinting at the irreversible and then suddenly resurrecting us with a single sentence - ​she came back to life.  Oh!

​About the art: beginning with black gesso over an old acrylic painting and carving through the gesso while wet to expose some of the original colors.  Once dry, a loose figure sketch in white.  Working from the outside-in to further define the figure by using a rubber wedge and walnut oil thinned paint.  For the figure and the moon, many layers of thinned paint with broad strokes, keeping it loose.  Blending with fingers and a soft cloth.  Allowing some edges to remain crisp while blurring others.  Carving through the wet paint with a small rubber edge to create texture in the "fabric".  Standing (or sitting) ten feet back periodically to keep from losing the gesture of the piece.  I've got a small sofa at a set distance from the work in process now.  Sitting there and contemplating each piece daily has helped me see better where a painting works and doesn't. 
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Here's the blue wild, where
tiny dreamers ride beasts, speak
​ birdsong, hold the moon.

(by poet Mary W. Cox)
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​Art prints available on request
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