Looking back over last year’s journal entries and blog posts, I was blissfully UNAWARE of what was barreling our way.* Doug wasn’t. He bought the last gallon of hand sanitizer in the drug store, and ordered masks and gloves by the end of January February 2020 Then,...
Happy memories make good subjects for my paintings --Sometimes, I can't describe them with words. My paintbrush can be as effective a journaling tool for capturing a happy time, as my pen and notebook. A favorite place from my memories is Joanne Scott's studio...
Because, more often than not in these times, I don’t know what to say, my thoughts can feel like dense fog — groping for understanding. This fog might explain why often I am at a loss for words. Bottom line, honest to Pete: I don’t know what to say when people...
I am starting 2022 with a clean dining table. Note: in a few hours this will be a mess again. The dining room table is both our work spaces. But for now, it is tidy, and I read a little “devotion” about gratitude even — especially when life presses in. Peering down...
It’s true: I don’t like to think of myself as losing ground; but: When your mind thinks you can do what you did at 35 and you’re 70 years old, it’s only a matter of time before you get yourself hurt. (John Erickson) Maybe it’s because I had so much time on my hands...
So, the other day I had a casual conversation with a younger woman who likes writing, but is reluctant to wade into words, arranging them in such a way that satisfies herself and communicates her thoughts. My analysis — not her’s. Writing is . . . tricky. Being...
Looking back to this time last year, in my journal, I have some impressions, given the times that are today. This time last year I was way more productive; listening to several books, and completing several paintings — I rarely left the sunporch. Productive as I was,...
Last week I occupied myself with three small paintings. Two were disasters, requiring immediate Gesso interventions. One was worth keeping, the first one. Looking at it, though, I can see the proportions aren’t right: too much container compared to the tulips. Well,...
Don’t Look Back my owl meme counsels: You aren’t going that way. But I still look back over last year’s journal entries. I am looking for any premonition of the trouble that defined 2020. Nada. Unaware I was; totally. But, I noted some advice that now seems...
On top of the pandemic and economic woes, now we face murder, rioting and looting. It’s like waking up to the headlines of 1968, 24/7. Four policemen took the life of an African-American man, George Floyd ,while a bystander filmed it. Violence erupted . . . All the...
Even though I keep a daily journal, I haven’t kept an accurate timeline for all my paintings. I know by March 9th, I had painted a Baltimore Oriole, and that after completing two owls. By then, the steroid had kicked in and so had COVID-19. (Prednisone and Proverbs)...
In these upside-down days, the wonder of words is that they can keep me anchored in ways that everyday jobs, errands, and tasks once did. Therefore, keeping a journal and “blogging” is a good use of my time. Arranging and re-arranging twenty-six letters into sentences...
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