Myanmar Refugees, earthquake and hurricane victims stain my paper. Ghosts. Shadows illuminated by the sparkly Autumn light. The world is a cruel place. Studio, Children; sanctuaries; escapes into creativity. In the morning, while we are waiting for the bus, Fiona hands me a little cream-colored kitty cat. She has all her little stuffed animals. “let’s go to grandpas” she says. “O.K.” I say. We walk the teddies as we crawl across the driveway. Fiona’s tights get dried leaves all over them. Jacks upstairs, I get this moment alone with Fiona in our magical space. She sees her shadow, makes it grow and shrink. She gets on the bus for school, I wave good bye.

In my studio Ghosts grow. Marks, drips and drops. My time goes by way too fast. Studio days, gone for the week. Today I sat on the deck taking a break from the studio. I remember sitting in the same place, or in the back yard. Listening to Blue Jays and crows, just like today.  Having the luxury of time, so much time for the studio. I could keep working non-stop. Now time is precious, both time in the studio and time with my family. It’s good to have restraints, balance. Responsibility.