I just realized I missed my granddaughter's birthday last month. It is hard to remember when I don't do the simple task of setting up a birthday calendar.
LOVE DOES THAT All day long a little burro labours, sometimes with heavy loads on her back and sometimes just with worries about things that bother only burros. And worries, as we know, can be more exhausting than physical labor. Once in a while a kind monk comes to her stable and brings a pear, but more than that, he looks into the burro's eyes and touches her ears and for a few seconds the burro is free and even seems to laugh, because love does that. Love frees. Meister Eckhart (1260 - 1328) Today I spoke to my Cousin, who has taken on the work of caregiving for my 98 year old Aunt and my 101 year old Uncle. Aunt has been taken off of medical supports to prolong life and put on 'comfort care' as her body cannot survive the pneumonia she contracted after hip surgery from a fall. Although we had not talked for years, our conversation picked up where it left off, insightful, empathetic, spiritual, and extremely funny. I am remembering the winter that my Cousin g...
Watercolour paper, graphite, pencil crayon, acrylic paint, pen and ink - 9" x 11" I have mixed feelings about this piece. I forgot to take a progress photo after I added the ground colour and before I added the warm reds to the subject and then continued to elaborate with white and black ink. I was really happy with the original idea, of a bonded pair sitting perched on a wire, each looking in different directions but sitting in close proximity to each other. That feeling of, "Give me space but don't go too far away." The delicate balance amongst autonomy, solitude and loneliness. It is thinking about relationships, position, connection, confidence, empowerment, belonging, and self worth that is inspiring this exploration. It is also awareness of the feeling of foreboding that permeates each day. This feeling of precarious balance amongst stability, inspiration and dread. The stability of having a home address, of having a daily routine, of somehow maintaini...
Last night I thought I would get some work done at my art desk after Mom went to bed. I sat down to drink a nice cup of tea and watch horse videos on Facebook to inspire my effort. It was a fitful night of restless sleep. Too many loose threads, unfinished edges, possible patterns. I have added layers of blue and red pencil crayon to continue building shape and character into the crows. At the same time their relationship is evolving in relation to each other and the context of the conditions of their emergence. Around 3 am I had finally started to drift off when I heard singing from Mom's room. I woke up again, trying to figure out if she was dreaming or awake. I hauled myself out of bed again to go check on her. Working on the drawing gives me a sense of purpose to these strange, constrained and unlimited days. This portal of time that opened up when Mom came home. Mom was awake. When she saw me, her singing turned to sobs of deep grief and fear. She named each of her children,...
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