October--
First an open invite to a great event coming to the gallery on Nov. 1st-- there will be music and birds and wonderful fun...so come on down.

2d there will be a poetry reading on Nov. 3rd in the gallery--three featured poets-( Mike Adams was scheduled, but this is becoming a memorial in his honor-- he gave us all so much; I don't know what to say about this... for me it is just sad.there is more info on the event on the website- I know Padma is also having a reading.  We write and read our poems and maybe feel the loss a little less; but I actually feel it more.  Mike was the only poet who ever read in my gallery who passed the hat for expenses...for me the money side of things is sometimes tough-- and the hat, well, the gesture was grand and generous.  And that is the sort of friend we have lost; these days when narcissistic personality disorder was taken from the DSM, (i joke because it is too common though that is not really why)--anyway he was the opposite of that; his poems were about the people who really worked to make America and the working class, about humanity and mattering, and not just going on for the sake of going on but for coming to a purpose-- and his purpose helping others, getting angry at the injustice and the bullshit, but still admiring, appreciating the beauty from the depths of his vision.the beauty in the nature but also in people...going to read his work again.  One thing about writers we can still be with them after they are gone in a way you can not be with those who don't leave us books. what the hell am i saying?
for me, there has been a lot of loss lately.. a lot of fucking loss; so I will go out and admire the leaves--thanks Mike.

untitled

Shana TovA

IT IS A CLOUDY AUGUST

There are things already fading in my mind about Santorini and Naxos and the lovely exploratory summer filled with things like seas, boats, kids, friends, art, promised life ideas.
There was ZISSIMOS LORENZATOS AND KAZANSAKIS--AND the salient thing I need to remember:  BE FAITHFUL TO THE MEANING OF MY LIFE--THAT ELUSIVE MEANING WHICH CAME FROM THAT LONG AND MYSTERIOUS CHAIN OF EVENTS TO PRESENT itself to me.  NEW project make a representational   chain of events!

the mind fades

It took me a long time to recall how to get onto this blog tonight and I know it is not unrelated to turning sixty, me who actually once uttered the words of my day about not trusting anyone over thirty-
the lost boys found me and i became an old woman full of rage, but wise a fucking sage

I've spent some time with the frail today- the pain really is as deep as the joy.

I invite anyone who reads this to the first Friday in May Gala at the gallery- starting at six

march ing

I am always amazed at the rates time passes...just completely baffled even in the depths of beauty created over history--thinking about blurring boundaries as a theme for some paintings maybe even a poem.  The blurring becomes interesting to me as so many of the distinctions are arbitrary and false that the shapes of things become the form over function over aesthetic value over emotional response

over easy.  but not so that it is runny.  These are two new paintings I am working on.  One more done than the other.  Three months left of my last full time school year and it feels like I am finally planting stars!

DECember-- 12/12/12/ happy birthday MAC

December; constantly astounded by the rate of time.  A new painting on the theme.  Next week, the playa- it is like taking a breath and recognizing you are fully alive- and appreciating that fact; flirting with immortality til it gets boring.  OK I am appreciating friends - especially those who continue to support my art- and of course family who continually make the dream-team.  Holiday gratitude-- or corbieres.  Vino Verite.-- this first pic was 5 months ago; seems like five years. the bird is now, though not good photo.  happy holidays

gift of the crow

now it's birds, maybe freedom, maybe because i read the gifts of the crows and gained an understanding of another realm of depth, and despite that there might be a large war soon, the Arab Spring might try to bring about an Israeli fall; but there is this other sense of time, maybe it is winter when in the now frozen in some speck of time, where only the now matters and there in the birds eye in the calm of the eye of a tornado in the I.  i.  i paint bIrds.