Sometimes when I can't sleep, I remember all the miracles in my life, but lately I've been forgetting some, so I thought I'd paint them.They're intensely personal, but maybe there's a universal thread there, too. This one has the car that broke down as we coasted to a house in a new town that we'd never been to before, volunteer movers who came to empty that house 30 years later when I couldn't lift another box, and the life that happened in between.
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands: your walls are always before me."-Is 49:15-16
"All art is solitary and the studio is the torture area."--Alexander Liberman
Many thanks to Dana Zed for getting me out of the studio last week, painting out in the hills.