After Da Vinci

Bad Hair Day

Sometimes in the morning my husband says I look like this!

Camping 101

It's almost twilight when we arrive at our campsite. The sky is a moody dark gray, the clouds hang low and misty. The smell of saltwater tangy in the air.

The rain has been merciless . Sheeting down on us as we frantically gather our camping gear and tent for our night's lodging. The sky has grown more ominous as night inches ever closer. We've done our best to pitch the tent and now have retreated inside. We sit miserable in our sopping steaminess and eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, open a tin of cling peaches and thank God for small kindnesses, drink our wine.

We've laid out our sleeping bags. I nestle in and detect a...stink. Yes, definitely an odor.. Oh Shit..
We have pitched our tent on dog poo. We sigh, we cuss, we all get out, move the tent, wipe it down. It rains. We bicker, we exclaim ,we have no choice... We sleep in the car.

It is midnight and I must pee.

I open the door and step out to a wondrous, wondrous sight.
The sky is clear, running from periwinkle blue on the horizon to a deepest indigo where thousands of stars shimmer and wink. I spot shooting stars cascading down and disappearing into the ocean. I hear the rhythm of the waves.

In the distance I spy a lighthouse slowly tracing its golden white light across the heavens...

I smile and breathe it all in.

This is one of my favorite paintings.

Art Therapy

During my "transition" I continued to paint the figure. Looking back I think it was an unconscious desire to heal my physical body. To pay attention to what my body was telling me. And what it was telling me was that I needed to take care of myself.

A few years ago my son left home for college, my father died, I became ill, resigned from my job, got married and moved to another city. I was in transition.

Whenever I feel deeply and need to make sense of my world I paint.
Here's an example of what came seeping out...

Now

I kiss and hug my son every time I see him. My new husband too. The dogs get cuddled and loved up. Petted and exclaimed over.

Today the Lu-ster is laying next to me. Paws crossed daintily. Red collar, license dangling. White with two tan spots. There is a bandaid wrapped around her forearm. Slightly chewed. It covers a skin abrasion she has been gnawing on. She breathes evenly. With an ocassional light snore.
I smile.
Sweetness.
My son lies in the hospital bed. His beautiful olive skin illuminated on the crisp white hospital pillow. Morphine dripping through his arm. He sleeps now. No worries. The operation is minor. I breathe a sigh. Relief.
I look at my new husband and mourn the years that we lost. Grateful for our time now.

This is all I have.

Now.