I'm still swimming in green, although the lilacs appeared in the green market this week so I'm also enjoying a little purple.
There was more green at my friend Paula Heisen's show titled Light, and Time at the Painting Center.
When I say swimming in green I really mean it because my two current works in green are underwater fantasies. House of Green is just about finished. I put it away for a while so I could see it with fresh eyes and decided to fill the last empty windows with several phases of the moon. Here it is.
Drawing the moon makes me think of a beautiful line from Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World;
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night.
Now I'm working on a new piece--the interior of House of Green. Here's the first step. It's not easy to see; I keep my pencil work faint because I'll erase it as soon as I go over the lines with ink. some people leave the pencil marks in their art but I can't wait to get rid of them.
Drawing and thinking about water takes me back to when I was a shivering blue-lipped kid with pruned up fingertips. I just loved the water. I don't remember my mother ever telling me to get out and warm up; I guess she assumed I'd know when I was too cold.
Do you have a secret place to go in your thoughts? A place to feel safe, or just quiet, to comfort your spirit? I think mine is here. This is the Float, designed and built by my grandfather. You can't see it here but it had a ladder so it was easy to climb aboard. That might be me jumping off the diving board. It sat upon six oil barrels and with too many people it could tip over which was always exciting. My secret place was underneath. To get there you had to dive under the barrels then you'd come up in a place lit from below with a green wavering light and your voice would echo from the barrels. I loved it there, especially because not everybody was brave enough to dive under the barrels.