Reflections, Never Enough Time.

Break something, instead of “break a leg”. That is my motto. Yesterday- A glass and a painting- fall, crack turn into a new form, unusable. This happens right before my opening. I took a Portfolio to my opening, sold each piece for $25. I sold over 11. I look at pictures now, of each piece. They are like people to me. They are part of my special collection of art, the pieces that have made it through every edit I’ve gone through in my studio. They know all my secrets. I feel like I adopted them out, the paintings, like spies infiltrating new spaces, bring my secrets with them. like they were going to good homes, like they will no longer be in a dark drawer. No light, no wall. Wait to be noticed again, wait to be framed with lots of space around them. They are the pieces that carry a story, part of a series. My hidden little gems that never made it into any shows, they were too special in a way. In a way I’ve sold my most precious, unique pieces of art for $25 each. Luckily there are still more, and of course more will always be made. I didn’t sell any large pieces yet, but I had interests. Those are the daddies and mommies of everything. The framed work in the Gallery and the Notebooks are a bridge from my past to my future. They are like rocks surrounded by feathers. I am certain they will sell. I will have money for my next book project. I want to write several books; each book will include/be dominated by pictures. I need a lot of money. The photographing of my work for the books is expensive. I have the paint and substrates. I have the content. I need money for the publishing fees.

I am Thankful

Studio today. Cold at first, remnants from the making of my recent show, ghosts of pastel, charcoal, paint, frags, worked on new pieces, worked on new notebook pages, curated a $25 portfolio, 48 pieces on paper, unframed. Jack and Fiona just got home. I hear them calling me, “Mommy, Mommy”, I hear the pitter patter of their feet, looking for me. I’m writing in my closet, my bedroom door locked. I’m drinking a glass of wine and eating chocolate candy x-mas trees. I still have 40 minutes left before the babysitter leaves. They are snickers x-mas trees, I’m on my second one. They are so good. They go so good with red wine. I am ready for my show. I am celebrating. I am proud of myself. I just pigged out on candy, drank two glasses of red wine, worked in the studio, it’s 3:28 and I’m ready for bed! Tomorrow is December 1st, what a lovely day to have an art opening. I’m very excited, it’s going to be fun. My new book copies aren’t here yet, it will probably take three weeks to get them from the printers. I can take preorders tomorrow and mail people a copy if they would like to get an autographed copy from the artist! Otherwise it’s already available through third party sellers online. I love my book so much. I love my whole show and my range of pieces and prices, from low to high, something for everyone. I am going to bed early tonight. I am thankful.

Need Seed Money!

It’s a windy, rainy Sunday morning, the ground is covered in orange, sky grey. I am missing my studio, it’s been two weeks since I’ve worked in there. I’ve been so busy with my show and book, and tired, I haven’t had a chance and it’s starting to catch up on me. I’ve snuck down to my room to write; Jack and Fiona are upstairs watching a show and Alan just got up to have his own breakfast. They will be coming to look for me soon. I’m excited to start my new project, my new series of paintings, drawings, and writings for my next book. I have some interesting ideas now that I’ve had some experience in the book publishing/ book creating world. I want to work this time with a conversation between the stories/writings/essays and the artwork. A back and forth, in the same way when I started having a conversation between the two opposite pages in my notebooks. A written word/ visual play, like the way children’s books are put together. I also was thinking about writing some children’s books. There are stories not being told, the children’s books seem to rehash the same messages repeatedly. I have lots of ideas, but now I have no seed money! I’ve been obsessively wondering how many books sold over the weekend? And I am HOPING I sell a few paintings at my show! I need to make some cash for my next set of projects! I think I am going to take Billy on an adventure walk now in the storm, see what’s happening out there, get all wet and muddy and come home to take a hot shower!

Skinned up in November

I can hear again. Airplanes in the cool dark November sky, humming birds starting to quiet down, there chirps become quiet and less frequent. Kids play with a basketball at the park. Motorcycles, A hum an echo of people talking, people laughing. I hear water running, my body aching, I munched it hard today at the ice skating rink. It was the kids first time skating, and Alans too. I used to skate all the time when I was a kid. I still Roller Blade. Jack wouldn’t try to Skate on the ice, Fiona was brave and came out. I skated, and it went well for a while. When everyone was done skating and were changing back into their shoes. I said “I’m gonna go one more time”. I went out and decided to skate faster since I didn’t need to keep an eye on Fiona. I started off, gliding one foot to the next. A guy in front of me said, “Whoa, that was a close one” when he almost fell. I hit some narley ice and started to fumble. Then BAM, I fell, left palm, right palm, right elbow skinned red, left front knee, skid both knees. “Are you OK?” someone asks. I look around hoping my kids didn’t see me munch it. I said, “I’m fine and laughed it off”. It hurt BAD. Skinned by the ice ain’t no joke. It burnt, and hurt, and was numb all at the same time. When I came home I took a shower and got dressed for dinner. If I would have put on my pajamas I would be in bed for the night right now.

Happy Turkey Day!


My book is BACK! Tomorrow is the big shopping day, my book is the BEST gift!

Amazon only has soft copies. To get a hard bound you need to go through the publisher.

Self Indulgence

To interact, that is one of the reasons I write and make art. To communicate. To express myself. The internet helps me connect with the world. People make fun of social media and call it dumb, but it allows me to share my thoughts, my paintings, myself, with the world. To find shared experiences. What would I be with out the books I’ve read, the people I’ve known, I’ve always wanted that. I’ve always searched for that connectedness. I listened to a woman on the news last night, talking about net neutrality, which is protecting the rights of peoples right to information. Keeping the internet equal for all, allowing everyone equal access no matter where they live and how much money they have. Free internet at the library. I just finished publishing my new book, Nap Time Paintings, Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist”.  I am so happy with the cover, it is beautiful. I am sure it will read beautifully now, after revising it so many times. And my art works shines in the book. I decided to really give my book its own identity, apart from my art career, I started a new Facebook page for my book and had to write about why people should click on my new link. I talked about what I’m writing, had to express why people should read what I’m writing. I though about why I like reading. I like hearing other people stories and experiences. I like being inspired to paint and to be a better mom and human being. I like feeling connected to people in that way. It makes me feel things I wouldn’t normally feel. It gives me hope. I love reading. I love looking at Art.  By having my book accessible in places where there are no galleries or museums, or where cost prohibits people to go visit places with fine art, an art book, my book can allow more people to view abstract, contemporary, strong, interesting art. At the Fourth Wall Gallery we talk about the Democracy of Fine Art all the time. Fine Art should be accessible to more people. It shouldn’t all be outrageously priced. I guess the internet for me, sharing my work on line and in galleries, writing my blog, and self-publishing my book is about democracy.  Net- Neutrality is a MUST! The book feels different than the painting. I started wondering the other day if writing about what I write about is self-indulgent? “Indulging one’s own desires, passions, whims., especially without restraint.” I am indulging in my desire to paint and write, it’s my passion, my whole art practice is about restraint vs. indulgence.

Where do the missing pages in books go?

“Pajaro-cu-cu”, today I read this book to Fiona, this old book from my childhood, one of my favorites. I wonder, how did it even survive this long? It’s a book of “Animal Rhymes from Many Lands”, illustrated beautifully with what looks like monoprints. The book was published in 1967, this is the copy I have. We get to a page that has been torn out. The poem beside the missing page is about a horse. I tell Fiona I probably ripped it out when I was a little girl because I loved horses. She asked me “where is it now?” I wondered, where could it be? The ripped-out page of the horse from my childhood book. “Probably was thrown away” I say. Or in a box somewhere hidden away, lost and forgotten. It’s not here, it’s not in my house. I didn’t save it or protect it. Maybe it was left outside in the rain, in the mud. I am surprised at the language used in this book. It’s complicated and rich. It’s diverse and fun. Fiona and I carefully dissect the sentences. It’s especially challenging for Fiona because of her hearing loss. It’s difficult to put the words in context because they are such unusual combinations and ordering of words.

Fox with his sack is on a jog;

He’s taking cabbages to Prague.

Hare, quick before they’re out of sight, Pursues that sack rich with delight-

One for hedgehog, one his own-

He quivers at the thought alone.

Then sly fox speaks, his tail goes flick!

“Come over near, and take your pick.”


Fiona was so tired and not feeling well she went to sleep after this. She hasn’t taken a nap in a long time. Jack is sleeping too. I haven’t been into my studio in too long. I’ve been so busy finishing up my book and setting up my solo show on the days I had a babysitter and the rest of the days the babies have been underfoot, especially Fiona. They haven’t felt well and that’s always tough. I hear one waking now. It feels dark and gloomy today. I need more Pajaro- cu-cu!