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.
Summer is over..
and we’re back as volunteer art teachers
for a group of inner city kids.
We spent the evening as we usually do
sitting at a table
elbow to elbow
drawing pictures together.
Can’t think of a better way to spend a Monday night..
If you look at a photograph of me
you see the face I wear,
the body I walk around in
and a few items of clothing;
unlike my paintings..
which show you what I look like
on the inside.
No one rolls out of bed one day
and decides to be an artist..
you were meant to be one.
Even if you don’t answer the call for many years
it has always been there