And that’s what my show is about. It’s about a person, in a place, finding self and being made whole again. It’s a portrait of the land that has held me, comforted me, a land that has known its own pain and struggle and hardship.
It was something I could believe in back when I didn’t know enough to believe in myself–when I didn’t know that I am, in fact, that woman (as so many of us are) who found it within herself to recreate a life, one with meaning and purpose, by herself and for herself.
I do believe we each have a path we must walk in this life. But is there something charted deep within us that points the way? What if what we ache for is more universal than individual, like the birds that migrate together, stay together? What if we are programmed, as a species, to simply BE…
So to all of us I wish for a letting go of what no longer serves and an embrace of the unexpected, whether it seems good or bad in the moment. And I’ll take it one further: here’s to shingles, the gift I thought I didn’t want, the bit of real life that brought me back to who I am.
On this Christmas Eve, during a holiday season that can bring all sentiments to the fore, may we be gentle with each other and with ourselves. My particular Christmas wish is for an acceptance of our humanness, for our own flaws and mistakes, our missteps and misjudgments.
“This pie was a revelation. The crust, flaky and perfect, led to a wonderfully rich and harmonious filling. The inclusion of meat foiled and balanced the citrus and spices and deepened the whole into a dark and fragrant remembrance of things past.”
It was another snowy day up here on the mountain and Kim decided to make his fabulous Date Nut Bread. I don’t need to tell you how wonderful the aromas were, filling the house as the storm swirled around us.
I live a privileged life up here on the mountain, one made up of many diverse and beautiful experiences: quiet solitude within nature, good friends, good food and good dogs (oh, and yes, I must include the cats if I know what’s good for me)…
Wishing you all a wonderful Thanksgiving. May your hearts overflow with the simple gratitude of being alive.
This brings out my inner hunter-gatherer in such a wonderful way. It’s like rock-hounding, looking for the prizes I want to drag home with me. There is something truly beautiful about this wondrous bounty of nature. As an artist I respond to it so much so that I will never grow tired of gathering and stacking it.
I have always felt safe in this vast solitude, living in pastureland cut from the old juniper and pinon forests long ago, out here among the coyotes and other wild things. Perhaps it’s offered something soothing to my own wild nature… On those pitch-black nights when there is no moon, with only the stars offering any sense of proportion, all of my nervous awkwardness falls away because I know who I am in those moments.
On THIS day my friend Kim Moss is busy baking an almond plum cake in the kitchen (here’s the recipe) and in preparation for switching over to my winter bed, I’ve hung new LL Bean flannel sheets out on the line to dry, so today these two things express the season most for me.
There was something extra special about the market yesterday. Companionably cold and crisp, everyone was bundled up against this new nip in the air.
Let’s travel to the ends of the earth, if necessary, to comfort or even say goodbye to the people who matter–those who make up a life–in my case, the one who GAVE me life.
So I make my paintings, influenced by the rich tradition of those who went before me, works made possible by the sacrifices required of revolution, by great artists breaking new ground. I think those artists live on, not only in their own works they left behind, but in the works of those of us who call ourselves abstractionists… the ground they broke is still bearing fruit.