Running around, getting sick & inspired

I’ve been sicker than a dog these last 2 weeks, and the doctor said to expect a couple more. I am wiped out completely/completely wiped out. Having my Open Studio the other week was hard to get through because that was probably the first day or so I got this virus from Hell. I wish I could say I am feel much better since then; I am way less congested, but all I want to do is sleep like a bear. Oh, but if only I was a bear. Bears are not neurotic.


For the past week, I’ve tried to spend as much time making art as I have had the energy for, which really isn’t much. I stand for a while, get dizzy, get tired, and have to lay down and sleep. I have 2 of the same size pieces going at both my home studio and at Moppet – 36” x 36” – both very different. One is a continuation from Contender, and yet as always. I am trying to allow the influence of what inspires me flow into the work without stunting it. It’s the freedom of Amy Sillman, the innovation of newer discoveries too. I’ve been most focused on local artist, Mary Addison Hackett, NY artist, David Humphrey, and a Japanese/British artist: Peter McDonald. Looking at their work lately has given me a lot of inspiration to create with abandon and remind myself that I really have nothing else.


The painting I have on my new easel at Moppet is a sort of an Ofrenda for both my parents. I have been sorting out a lot of flowers along the top, while adding a lot of things they both loved to eat around the bottom, which is based ontop of a make-shift cloudy heavenly sort of upsidedown sprially dripy plaine. So far there are things in there like a bowling trophy, bowling pin, Doritos bag, Yocco’s Hot Dog guy, Tommy’s burger logo, Ding Dongs, Sunkist orange soda, Dolle’s Saltwater Taffy… I know it still needs some Jiffy Pop. I may put in some sugar skulls for effect, but I’m not sure.It’s still gotta be mine.


This weekend marked the 1 year anniversary of my father’s death. I spent Sunday at Forest Lawn Cemetery.My mom’s brand new tablet was in place and that was very very hard to see. I laid on the grass between the two of them, like when I was a little kid, curling up between them in bed when I was scared, and just slept in the sun between them, crying and asking if they knew I was there or if they knew how much I missed them. It doesn’t feel like I am moving past this situation at all whatsoever.


Back to painting today. I am going to work on the one at home and try to go somewhere new. I’m going to try not to be afraid and remember to allow myself permission to experiment and trust my gut. Funny I have to tell myself the very same things every time after decades of painting, eh?



In progress (at home).









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