Social Distancing

 

Social Distancing, 25"x45"

 

There's no way around it--I have to paint what I feel.

Often in the evening, I go for a walk at the Berkeley Marina. Mount Tam and the Marin Headlands are blue silhouettes beyond the opalescent water. I see small groups of families there, and I miss my friends. But when I paint it out, it's okay.

 

Tiny Trailer #5, 11"x11"

 

We're all doing what we can to be creative in our little bubbles.

 

 

California Fires

 Big Basin 60"x30"

As I made this painting over the last two weeks, I listened to the news of California's fires on the radio, especially the fire in Big Basin. Big Basin has always been close to my heart; there was one of the best walk-in campsites there, a quarter mile from parking with amazing old growth redwoods all around. 

 

I remember camping there with friends when our kids were little. One of the girls was in that gangley growth-spurt stage and was constantly tripping over her legs as the kids scrambled across fallen logs; she'd hit the ground but bounce up and keep running. One night as I was trying to bed our youngest down in her sleeping bag, all of the other children started dancing around the outside of the tent, their flashlights casting magical shadows on the tent walls as they chanted, "Lions and tigers and bears--oh my!" 

 

Our last trip there was cut short by a surprise storm. We were determined to stick it out but ended up loading the car with saturated gear and heading home, but not before we had a beautiful walk through the rainforest.

I was sad to hear that the lodge there was burned in the recent fire, but what I really cared about were the old growth redwoods. It sounds like they have survived. The forest might actually thrive, what with the purifying fire cleaning up the overgrowth.

I thought about all of these things as I painted this portrait of one of my favorite forests. This painting was a prayer as the fire burned and is also a prayer for future adventures under the redwoods.

Five in the Bed

Five in the Bed, 24"x24" 

I love yellow legal pads. I buy stacks of them at Costco and always have one by my bed. Before I go to sleep at night, I write about my day, sorting through big feelings and trying to remember what I'm thankful for.

During quarantine, I've been writing my life story, going through the boxes of journals and yellow pads, finding gems and making notes. All these disparate parts of me come back, obediant, angry, critical, curious. The shy teenager, the first grade teacher, the world traveler, the new mom, the artist--they all climb into bed with me and influence my dreams.

Quarantine has been going on for six months now, and it's been boring and frightening and lonely. But I'm very grateful for these months of quiet reflection and getting reaquainted with these fascinating bed fellows.