My husband and I paint back to back in our home studio.
We listen to music, we talk to each other..
and we talk to ourselves.
“Why are you still using this brush?” I scold myself in disbelief.
“#$%*@! Yes, yes… oompa loompa!” Richard shouts enthusiastically.
It is a strange disjointed conversation..
punctuated by wordless grunts
and a variety of hoots
howls and whistles.
We are still in the same room
but we are gone.
Lost in our own worlds
just as it should be.
When I first started painting
I had no idea what I was doing..
but that didn’t matter.
All I needed
was the unshakable
The floppy yellow doll in the lower left corner of this painting is Beth..
my sister’s beloved childhood doll.
Many years ago,
in a moment of carelessness
Beth was lost
and my sister was filled with regret.
It broke my heart.
For over 20 years, I have relentlessly searched for Beth.
Antique stores, yard sales
and endless, insomnia-fueled internet searches.
A noble quest
to reunite my sister with her beloved doll.
Recently, my doll-hunting obsession
came up in conversation.
My sister remembered me telling her about it
10 years ago.
She was touched that after all this time
I had not given up.
I told her I would look for Beth
for the rest of my life
if that’s what it took to find her…
The next day, Beth was found.
As my husband held me in his arms..
I wept tears of joy.
My quest is over.
I am at peace.
My sister asked me to make a painting
to hang in her dollhouse.
So I did.
With squinting eyes,
I leaned in close
and poured my soul onto that tiny canvas.
Is it a waste of time to put so much of myself
into a 2″ x 2″ square?
Art is all or nothing.
When I paint
I don’t make preliminary sketches
I don’t plan anything out beforehand..
I just sit at my easel
It is a spontaneous conversation..
an intimate, spiritual exchange
between myself and God.