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In Blackwater Woods

Naming work is hard. But, sometimes poems go through my mind when I am working. Mary Oliver, often.  Look, the treesare turningtheir own bodiesinto pillars of light,are giving off the richfragrance of cinnamonand fulfillment, the long tapersof cattailsare bursting and floating away overthe blue shoulders of the ponds,and every pond,no matter what itsname is, is nameless now.Every yeareverythingI have ever learned in my lifetimeleads back to this: the firesand the black river of losswhose other side is salvation,whose meaningnone of us will ever know.To live in this world you must be ableto do three things:to love what is mortal;to hold it against your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it...

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Spinster Sisters Opening Reception

It is a privilege to have my paintings featured at one of my favorite restaurants, The Spinster Sisters, in Santa Rosa, CA. The current collection of paintings will be on display there until August 8, 2017. 

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No Artist is Pleased

I think of this Martha Graham quote often.  "There is a vitality, a life-force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open...

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Give it time, give it power

“The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.” Mary Oliver - Poet

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Real Things

Do you see the subtle little splashes of oil that start at the center of this painting and drip down to the lower right of the canvas? Sometime in 1950, Diebenkorn had a brush full of linseed oil, paint and turpentine in his hand, and for some reason, in a swooping motion (I imagine) he brought it down on raw canvas. It splashed, and he left it. I've been fascinated with this painting (which is in the permanent collection at the DeYoung in San Francisco, BTW) for years. While the picture itself has some excellent qualities, it's the capture of that motion which I love. The physicality of making that mark is completely obvious, and Diebenkorn isn't afraid to leave...

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