Does anyone else struggle to title their work? I sure do! This lady first lived as a sketch in my notebook before I gifted her a garden and watched her bloom into color. While I favor a slightly more precise approach with other types of paintings it was fun to experiment and slap some paint […]
I dipped my feet into the daunting process of learning to paint water! What a challenge to communicate vastness in a small space. I love the colorful glow beneath the waves as well as the loose and frantic foreground compared to the serene horizon where sea and sky meld into one. Acrylic on canvas, 8 […]
You dropped out of a tree into my path, a shiny acorn, and I, not yet a sapling. How could I have known then how our branches were destined to grow together?
like the howling ache of the last bite, yearning, your pillow–cold– my fingers sweep for crumbs of you between my sheets.
It’s only a mile down the road, you said, you were wrong, five miles later in that summer sun, turned around twice, footpaths veering downhill, that can’t be right, I’m sorry, you said,let’s try again– When we left the house that morning I’d asked what to wear– you said I’d be fine in that blue dress I liked so long it sweeps my feet, you were wrong, legs […]
I have an answer but like I really don’t know what my plans are, thanks for asking, but also, like, if I paid attention to myself for half a minute I would discover I do know the answer but what I want feels impossible because we’re all so deluded by this idea that what you do as in your work is the most important thing about you and not what you […]
unfurl those arms and legs so wide they wrap around the whole world and gather it up– soft as crushed velvet and as easily as a lover.
My favorite part of this recently-finished painting is difficult to detect on camera. Look closely with the right angles and in the right light and you’ll find evidence of little happenings in the snow, the scratches of the bird on the post searching for a seed, mouse tracks disappearing into a burrowed hole, an early […]
There’s not an extra bone in their body that’s feeling something I don’t. They are just labeling their feelings differently.
I am not a stranger to the rain. I am not a hard-packed desert who at first storm-break will flood, reject the course of life that comes most naturally. I am soft enough to accept the storm without spilling– to soak sorrows into these old-growth forest bones and milk the life from gathering clouds to birth tender shoots reaching for the sun.