Category: crazy stuff

The moment I walk into my studio I know this is precisely what I need to be doing right now. I am still out of white paint, so I need to think outside the box. I go in with a peach colored crayon. Then iridescent pearl, black, cerulean blue, green gold, a saturated bright, yellow, […]

A tea stain from a splatter on thick watercolor paper. One dark line encloses light pink, a red drip and green at the bottom is all I can see of a painting above my head on a shelf. One time I told my friend I was wanted to propose an installation piece to an arts […]

My book is listed under parenting right now. That’s not what I intended. I said MOTHERHOOD and FINE ARTS AND CREATIVITY. I just panicked over this and ran to my i-phone and sent two emails to the publishers that I want it to say: MOTHERHOOD, INDIVIDUAL ARTIST, and CREATIVE NON-FICTION. I’ve learned so much about […]

“STOP LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE” this cop shouts. I look his direction. “I’m not, really” I say. “YES, YOU ARE” he says. I didn’t like his tone. He had asshole written all over his face. I still should have said, “OK” and put my phone down. I wasn’t even looking at anything, except a big […]

A bra is part of a costume. I see it now so clear. Mama, mama, mama. I understand now. We use it for our armor. We use it on our bodies. Protecting us. Protecting them. We use it all the time. It’s so tight and suffocating. Suffocating. Mama, mama, mama, mama, mama. What do you […]

You will survive the doctor says. I sit on the edge of the exam table on a Saturday afternoon. I can’t believe I got an appointment. Just drop me off, I tell Alan. Take the kids to the park. I’ll figure out what to do after. I’m sick again, or having a relapse, maybe rheumatic […]

  My studio is a mess. The whole thing. Paint brushes hard, palette knives covered in dry paint. Works I work and work and work over. Mud and ambiguity. All over the place. Sadness in my heart. The circle of life, the we are who we are fact of it all. The THIS IS WHAT […]