March came on Friday. Rabbit rabbit. A madness that blows in with the longing for spring. The return of light and warmth and hope for our weary winter souls. Though we carry on. Make our plans. I felt disoriented. Last week my balance off kilter. Unsure where to be when, double booking. Then pause. Who’s on first? Full moon. A gentle interlude. Obsession and isolation and be patient. I feed myself movies and rice. And today the sun shines so brilliant on flowers inside my house. All the joy floods through the door.
Random thoughts from a weekend where winter reigned — beneath a full moon:
- they call them “designer dogs” –crossing a Labrador with a standard poodle. Labradoodle. Originated in Australia. Love the Besa dog
- to MAC or not to mac –and cheese. PC? These questions and iPhone or Droid and options and do I really need a smart phone?
- I could run away my winter fat on the Dale Ball trails. Or run away.
- panic at being poor though not homeless and the perspective that brings it all back to grateful am I and so rich despite the bank balance and lucky too and talk to sisters and friends and take a bath and take a hike and maybe a walk on the wilder side of my nature.
- Homeland has caught my attention and I cringe when Carrie goes through shock therapy thinking she’s wrong when she is the only one who has it right. Still the label of crazy too convenient for dismissal in a world that does not allow for other. (I know it’s only sitcom).
And today the hope of spring prevails. Fresh chard from the Farmer’s Market. The mailman’s radio tuned to a ball game. Bring me some peanuts and cracker jacks. . . permeated my sense of accomplishment at using day-glo zip ties to repair my dryer rack. My version of duct tape. I sat it in the yard feeling happy with laundry. Sat in the sun talking on the phone to my big sister. Chicken in the oven. A glass of French pinot.
And I am painting. Oil. Glazing. Small works on canvas. Are they equations or villages or walls — or simply abstract shapes without narration? Do I scribble more or less? Excavate. Smooth over. Draw. Then wipe it all away. I am intuitive but the paintings do not feel intuitively painted. Expressive yes but still I hold back. Uncertain. How to proceed. When to stop? Outline or blend? What tool works best with oil? I experiment. I am a trial and error artist. Some call it process. Not to be confused with progress though I believe I am making some. Progress.
A friend gifted me 6 inches of Art News. I look through the pages. Tear out an image. The cat rolls on her back. I tape up an abstract by Lillian Orlowsky (who studied with Hans Hoffman). Her foundation PAAM offers a grant to painters over 45. Check it out!
What do you think?
I’m hopeful the gallery might be interested. For the May opening. Small works. And if not I am still having fun. On my path. Figuring it out — one painting at a time.
Brenda is a visual artist and occasional poet who works as a Personal Assistant/Girl Friday to a variety of interesting people in Santa Fe, NM. Please visit her website for more images of her work. Studio visits welcome by appointment.