M.I.A.

Last Mill Street class...Great arts council event and tourism conference and then heavy divorce papers. I am moving out of the studio- hanging work in Millerton and Cornwall and shipping work to Denver... moving too fast to paint.
(nodp)

Don't worry, there is a ladder out of the pit.

OK- so i am embaressed that i wallowed so openly! Thanks for the concern. I know what I have to do... I know my mood is "a choice"- though sometimes sadness feels like a habit. I'm tired. So, to get myself out of it, I am not skipping meals, allowing myself short naps, practicing small anonymous acts of generosity, and focusing on teaching lessons to aspiring artists... things outside my own self-pity! I am starting to feel better. Sticking to a routine. Things could be a lot worse. At least everyone is alive and healthy. And if this life is long enough I will be able to appreciate the connections for the new way they have developed. God- when will I ever learn?

A week of wallowing in spring sadness

I haven't been painting. I've been looking at my yard in pure nostalgic terms. Things are blooming without my sons or my husband or my father-in-law here to appreciate. I thought winter would be the hardest, and this has taken me by surprise. I keep myself busy so to not notice the hum of the yard without the boys' laughter and clutter. I've been running to not notice the lonely cats. There are workshops, board meetings, classes, support groups, financial appointments, movies, and friends to help out. No time this week do laundry or to paint or go to the gym. No time for my closest friends as I turn off my phones and curl up in the night glad to be alone. My sleep is a crusade full of bad dreams. The terrain is hilly, sinking, soggy, reptile infested, dark.
Morning coffee on the porch has me particularly sad. There is a bush... a particular bush that haunts my days. It only blooms briefly and the aroma wafts about the outside of the house and makes me weep. So I have, on a friend's council, decided to paint it.
The brushes are washed in my tears. What am I doing?! I think I have made a mess. Just hope the family can pull out of it and the painting can be saved.

Where have I been?

In between studios... I find myself culling books, sorting papers, packing suitcases, filling albums, filing receipts... It's been a week since I painted. I am seriously off balance..

One week later: my desk again

sarah- does this answer your question?

They're coming back! Wish them luck.

Monday's Landing Day Highlights (all times are listed in EDT)

3:51 a.m.	Deorbit preparations begin
5:03 a.m.	Payload bay door closing
5:13 a.m.	Mission Control "go" for Ops 3 software transition
6:20 a.m.	Discovery astronauts suit up
6:43 a.m.	Astronauts strap into their seats
7:10 a.m.	Orbital Maneuvering System engine gimbal checks
7:21 a.m.	Auxiliary power unit prestart
7:33 a.m.	Mission Control "go/no-go" decision for the deorbit burn
7:38 a.m.	Maneuver to the deorbit burn attitude
7:43 a.m.	Deorbit burn
8:35 a.m.	Merritt Island, Fla. tracking station acquires signal from Endeavour
8:48 p.m.	Landing

I see a bird in the bush, and

have lost sight of the two in my hand. Lost sight of the painting...

acrylic on canvas panel...
10 x 8 inches

Part of me is an exhibitionist

Still working on the streets.
The other part of me is quiet shy.
A home body.

nodp

Habitat for Humanity birdhouse

Regional artists were invited to decorate a birdhouse for auction to benefit the Connecticut chapter of Habitat for Humanity. They actually gave each artist the birdhouse, which made the project easier. The surface was rougher than I would have liked- but I think a variety of media have made the surface irregularity a positive thing. I call this:
"When the Caged Heart Sings"...
A couple of years ago I painted a birdhouse and forgot, until I recently looked it up, that it was also a musically themed house! Perhaps it is because birds are musical gifts to us... they bless the planet with song.

A Specter of bad dreams...

haunts me in the night...
Several nights have recently been spent tossing and turning... terrorized by dreams of family, walking dead, and planes, bus rides, confrontations with bogeyman, my youngest son always at my side. Any ideas, anyone, what this may mean?!
This sewn paper painting illustrates a heavy (text filled) blanket being lifted across the room by a winged creature...your interpretation is as good as mine.
7 x 5 1/2 inches sewn painted and found papers. I'm showing you the back as well as the front so you can see the stitching...
SOLD- thank you Sarah!

Where does it all come from?

Spent the day in the studio tackling my desk!
Before and After:
nodp

DEVOURING THE STILL LIFE

My students, at the Mill Street Loft after school art program, share their work with a fan!

My Art can make a house a home.

Empty nest paintings now on Fine Art America website. High quality prints and cards available for great prices! Please look!

Party at the Re-institute

Henry's barn came alive yesterday with artists and art lovers from all over the region converging on Boston Corners Road in celebration of the opening of a new art venue. It was such a fun time to meet new people and reconnect with old friends!
My two works hung below Susan Rand, between James Meyer and Virginia Lavado, and above Will Trowbridge! All good company. Thank you Henry!

Is that me in the mansard house studio and nest?

I've been in this studio for about 14 months now. It saw me through the transition of my husband moving away and my marriage ending, my sons graduating and then moving away, my father-in-law falling ill and moving away... This series of paintings really is about taking the past year's empty nests and rooting myself in the buildings, the architecture of my neighborhood, in my studio.
Yes- I am safe at my easel, in my community, in my home.
Perhaps the image should be of a lifesaver...
In fact I DID one of a lifesaver, two years ago, in May of 2008. (Did I ever share about the two year theory to understand my art?) The motives may have been different- but looking back I am struck by the phrase I painted along the bottom of the image. It says ' women everywhere are doing it".
Lately, in a different context, that thought amazes me... I have been thinking about "divorce"- it seems so hard to go through and yet, look around! So many have done it. So it is obvious we can survive it. Now I must imagine it.

The Green house down the road

Finished yesterday.
This makes 5 paintings of main Street houses. Its about 12 x 11 panel with collage paper and acrylic paint.

Noah's ark

Attended dress rehearsal last night... and it's looking really good- for just cardboard and paint!!!! Hope you can see the show at the Rhinebeck performing Arts center this weekend. ndp

One afternoon contemplating the final rent payment

Acrylic on canvas yesterday afternoon.
With only a month left of rent, I put it all into this painting. I think the current series is an answer to my son's question of why I don't move away and go for an adventure. Right now I want to find my ground, my home. Perhaps in a year I will fly off for a new vista- but right now I love this town, I love my friends, the community, my larger family, and I desire a home base to nurture my dreams.

Is it the light?

Or the company and the fresh air that make me feel happy and inspired again?

House nest with flowers

Nothing like celebrating the neighborhood and the fertile nest in paint. I had fun on the street today. The sun was out, the neighborhood was alive. Many visitors stopped to watch and I may have a mural commission to check out next week.
The house might have a little more character than my squiggly lines suggest. I am going to do the whole row of the houses across the street from my studio. It's a time capsule of American architecture. And a going away present for myself before I move my studio out of town again.

A Hammer for Good Friday

SOLD!
I once wrote: "Inconclusiveness permeates this image. I don't know how this will end, and so I paint, grasping for clues."
I PAINTED THIS AND CALLED IT "SPIRITUAL TOOL #3-HAMMER on November 27th, 2007
Told my brother this afternoon that I often do not know what I am painting- what it is about- until at least two years have passed. My paintings are full of personal messages and insight that, revealed in the process and possibly obvious to someone else, slowly sifts its way into my dimwitted conscious.
Tonight I had a possibly enlightened moment in the Good Friday church service. My sister sang a mournful song at the piano and someone cracked a wicked hammer against iron nails. Chills ran up my arms.
What was I thinking? A hammer can be a tool for building and it can also be a symbol for the Crucifixion of Christ. What we build, be it governments or faith or homes, we eventually break down. Our soul has to be strong, strong, strong. Mine can only be strong when I am completely surrendered, humbled, and believe in the wonders of a loving God.
Oh thank God the flowers will bloom this weekend, for it is Easter!
This mournful painting on red is a reminder of what has come before.
Acrylic on canvas, 10 x 8 x 2 inches.

My little prince

has grown...
and I
revel in memories of him at younger ages. I have loved being his mother. Today I balance the worry with lots of prayer.
He is a fine gentleman with a core of true integrity. I am blessed and inspired by my sons.