A beautiful thing.

In the end, we must all paint what is inside us. And that is a beautiful thing.

But it also helps, a lot, to get a different perspective sometimes.

Often with my ‘out there’ paintings that get painted when I am in the flow and definitely without my knowledge, something tells me when to stop, when the painting is finished.

But when it comes to landscapes and still life paintings that require a degree of finesse, not to mention a prodigious amount of skill, I am hopelessly lost. My instinct fails me. I can never tell when a painting is done or not done. Like the one below.


It had its merits, but, I wasn’t sure what to think of it. To me, it was simply…nice.

So I shared it with my art group. I got a lot of wonderful feedback. Some things were really good, others could be changed…
And then I heard a soft, ‘This does not do anything for me…’, and let me tell you, AHA moment!! She had put into words exactly what I was feeling without knowing that THAT was the vague nagging feeling that I was struggling with. That this painting did not do anything for me. I had played safe with it without doing all the mad splashing, scraping, spritzing, dabbing that I feel compelled to do when I am really in the zone. In short, I wasn’t being true to my inner child. HA! Woot! Woot! Thank you, dearest friend (You know who you are!!) for pointing me in the right direction!

SO….back to the drawing board…and paint splashing happiness…




In the end, we must all paint what is inside us but seeking advice and receiving it can be very invaluable too.

I don’t think this one is done yet, but, thanks to a dear friend and fellow artist (a phenomenal one!), it is definitely getting back onto my own painterly compass again. And THAT is a beautiful thing.

Some news and a painting.

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China Town, Perhaps? Acrylics on Canvas 11″ x 14″


I am participating in another event tomorrow (YAYE!):

Wine, Beer, Art & Appetizers
Join us on November 19 from 6:30 – 8:30 for a pre-holiday tasting of seasonal wine and craft beer.

Browse a display of local art while enjoying a selection of gourmet appetizers.

Meet local artists presented by the Mill Creek Art Connection and get started on your holiday shopping. Our artists represent a wide variety of media, including oils, watercolor, photography, woodworking, and jewelry, with something in every price range.

Participating artists include Amy Bryce, Marjorie Carleton, Andrea Chemero, Linda Crank, Arch Cunningham, Rama Desai, Jim Effler, Nancy Gamon, Karen Gaski, Jon Hand, Dave Morrical, Shelly Reese, Mike Simpson and Matthew Zory.

Katie Schoeny, CSW, Vanguard Wines and Morgan Hastings, Stagnaro Distributing, will pour wine and beer and share their knowledge.
Purchase your favorite beer or wine to have on hand for the season.

The cost for the event is $30 per person and includes tax and gratuity.


Hope to see you there! :)

Like autumn on wings.

Alt Park and pigeon 048

Alt Park and pigeon 049

Alt Park and pigeon 017

Alt Park and pigeon 022


Alt Park and pigeon 033

Alt Park and pigeon 026

Alt Park and pigeon 030

These were taken a few weeks ago when it was still warm and the sun was dazzlingly brilliant and these little beings floated around the park, chasing one another, folding the sun between their mullioned, stained glass wings.

Where they led I followed, with all my awe in tow, to be lost between their autumn wings, these Monarchs of the fields.


Acrylics on Canvas 36" x 36"

Acrylics on Canvas
36″ x 36″

I almost painted over this one. HA!

You see, I was fine till I painted his head and torso. But the ‘nether regions’…forget it. They were all over the place. Just could not get the right perspective!

So I thought okay then, have it your own way.

I flipped the canvas over, took a whole bunch of white on a broad brush and went to it like a mad woman.

Thank goodness I stopped in time though! Because when I flipped it back, it was just the thing! Exactly what the painting needed.

I love it when that happens! Now he looks so wonderfully wishy washy. :D

Finger painting.


Acrylics 36″ x 36″

You build it up and let it go. You build it up and let it go. Again and again and again….

Painting like this, allows me to be fearless. Or rather, it demands it of me.

This one has 4 different paintings underneath.

After a while, brushes and knives seemed inadequate. I HAD to use my fingers and palms. There was such power in that.

Sometimes, after I am done being fearless and vulnerable and eccentric and insane and all those good things ;), the paintings themselves, no matter how good or not so good, seem very anticlimactic. They don’t have the same powerful thrill as the process. I do love them, immensely, but, the journey itself can be so incredible.

The raison d’etre of painting, n’est ce pas?

Temple of Gold.




The even star lit
upon the tree
and what fire
poured out
of those leaves
tearing the sky
into mad shreds
of yellow and ochre;
It dripped
from their edges
and dizzy with love
and longing
I stood underneath
gathering it all to me
How my palms burned
and my face.
Overcome, I leaned
on its bark
and felt it tremble
or maybe it was me.
I was beyond the point
of knowing.

The window in the east caught fire; pure gold
licked the frame and the walls; while outside,
shapes peeled away from each other; timber
and bramble; and the light burned a path through
the silent woods until a warbler cleared his throat
looking for the right note to pursue, perhaps
wondering, which tone would best bring in the day.

I felt it, sometimes, within the palm of my hand..
that effervescent link between the stars and the planets and the trees…
the sun bellowing through the leaves, shouting,
and the mushrooms pushing their bald heads through the morass,
the birds, the beasts, the bunnies, and the drunken bees.
The spider turning corners, with infinite patience, in his quiet little space, hoping to avoid detection..
I saw them all and the verbal link of daisies that crowned them,
that danced between them, iridescent, transient..
I would wrap my fingers around it and tug ever so gently
and it would rise shimmering, alive, always, always a colossal surprise
and it would strike me mute and yet the words would flow..
I felt it within the palm of my hand
until I went looking for it…

What makes us write, what makes us rhapsodize over every flower, berry and red throated winged creature..


And having a place between them.

I AM..

because the winged ones blind me with the ecstasy of their flight,
because the blooms thrust their wild perfume under my nose and invade my very breath,
because the sky blazes a naked blue and gold and no two sunrises and sunsets are ever the same..much like the lines on our palms..

I knew that, but then, I went looking for them..

I have stopped looking for them since..

I simply let them fall, willy nilly, upon me, and let them come to rest where they will.