fine art prints
I started this blog after moving to northern New Mexico from coastal North Carolina. Feeling the loss of my creative community, I started posting works in progress as a way to push myself forward and connect with other writers and painters.
For the first eight months or so I offered original narrative images as weekly image prompt for writers. The Storybook Collaborative pages document the collaborations.
Sadly - for I have enjoyed the adventure, and meeting so many interesting, creative souls - keeping the blog has has taken a back seat to sleep, family, work obligations and the birth of our Mountain daughters. I'd like to get back to it and still hope to one day. Until such time I am delighted by your visit and hope you will leave a comment and come back for more.
Category Archives: journal
or, how do you know when to stop? I like the life in the first two. It feels like I start to paint the life out in the next two. It is easy to overwork the painting I am focused … Continue reading
well, nobody asked, but I’ll try to explain it anyway, if only for myself. I can’t remember if the post below – She sits upon a windowsill – started as a journal fragment or as a line that jumped into … Continue reading
Whereabouts and Wanderlust traveled hand in hand. Each one loved the other most and trekked through many lands. Altogether they were happy, blue eyes and blue. Sleeping children brought them flowers, with love, from me to you. And so the … Continue reading
I am traveling with 20 uwc-usa students (from 10 countries!) and faculty on a border studies trip and will be away for another 6 – 7 days. Hope to post along the way but internet is sketchy as we go … Continue reading
1. Sweet sweet engine of mercy, bright flying speck in the sun, tomorrow I’ll be riding a donkey, tomorrow I’ll be on my way home. Ah! The invisible carnival ride, I’m standing in line to climb on. Twirling and spinning … Continue reading
She sits upon a windowsill and spies a laughing boy, about eleven, walking barefoot by the water’s edge beneath the tree’s green reaching hands. The canopy throws its color down and lights the shadows with reflections, the subtle ocher, umber, … Continue reading
I found this canvas in a thrift shop and recycled it. The bright colors are showing through from the original thrift shop painting. I drizzled roofing tar on the canvas and then brought out some of the images which were … Continue reading
(from a dream I had the night before an art opening. I used it as my artist’s statement.) I asked the man who stood beside the child and held her hand, what he called her. Both of them were muffled … Continue reading
I’m here to find the simple truths that I knew as a child. The dogs make a game of me, the cats curl and sleep upon my body. The daffodils await the rising of the sun. They draw their color … Continue reading
Let me just sit and feel the morning change into her winter clothes again. Summer’s breath just passed across my hands, undulating like a line of pelicans above the dunes and hollows of my palms. I have become my age. … Continue reading
1. You can’t see the dancer in my belly, can you, mister? I didn’t think so. And I don’t have the icon to describe, much less, to explain her. You say, perhaps the moon has brought her? (She’s in the … Continue reading