Finding my footing

"Yellow flowers"

I haven't wrote much, or done much, for the last month or so, it's just been too chaotic and painful.  The move was a stressful enough, but throw in Mark's chemo and delicate health, and Isaac's sudden death on Mother's Day, and that was enough to knock me out of commission.  I'm slowly finding my way back to my routine.

I finally got the house completely unpacked and set up, and my studio as well.  All I need is a new air conditioner so I don't bake like a pizza in an oven, like in my last studio.  As much as I loved the space, the heat was so oppressive in the summer, and there was nothing it seemed that alleviated it, so I could only work very early or very late.  At least this time around, I can be like a rat in my nest--at all hours.

I had written a lot in the immediate after Isaac died, but it is too painful to post up.  I put it in my personal journal, and there it must stay.  His death obviously deeply affected us all, and still does.  It is senseless and tragic, but there is the comfort he died in the presence of all of those he loved, and literally in his mother's arms as she tried to save him.  It took days to get the images of his death scene from my mind, and then when the windows were open at night, the scent of lilac that would waft through on the soft Spring breeze would choke and sicken me with its cloying sweetness--it was the scent of death, like that of a funeral parlor.  So, I chose to sweat rather than breath it in.

My mind wandered to hell and back, grasping at anything to make sense of what has happened and why, but in the end, as all of us humans realize, we will never know on this side of Heaven.  So, I stopped asking and just look at his picture and smile now, reminiscing of funny times, and how happy he made Gabby through their turbulent but passionate relationship all these 8 years.  The tears still flow though, even when the smiles are there.

So, here is the first little painting I have done.  It started out local, but my mind drifted far away, to places I had been, so I can't say its really a "plein air," since it ended up a mystical place, an amalgamation of places I have been, somewhere beautiful and peaceful, where my mind needed to be through all of this turmoil.  The flowers were there, the water was there, but my own senses heightened them to somewhere or someplace rather ethereal.  I figure it was a form of therapy, to let my mind run free, and be a bit undisciplined.  Hey, what the hell--it's my art, and I'll do what I want with it.

On that wry note, I do hope you enjoy it.  More to come now that the brushes have been dipped again!