Above: Singing With One Breast, Acrylic, Oil, Collage, Pencil, Ink, 45”x43”, 2014 Singing With One Breast displays the contrast between inner and outer realities that arise when I meditate. Most of the figure consists of the Expressionism style, wild colors and textures that connote the intense feelings going on inside me, especially when I contemplate […]
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At times, someone convinces me to take on a task I later regret. Then I wonder how I got hooked. For example, I attend a temple I love and usually I do about three hours of gratifying volunteer work per week. With in-person meetings banned during the pandemic, I no longer sing in the choir
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During a thorough house-cleaning, reaching into the back of a drawer, I suddenly froze, astounded to find a Faberge Egg. Adorned on the front of an elegant navy blue box, about five inches wide, eight inches long and five inches, the words, “Faberge Egg” in gold sophisticated calligraphy were scribed on the front. I nearly
My friend, Maile, asked me to help her hunt for a new condo. Although I currently lived in a house, I had lived in apartments for over twenty years and maintained an interest in Maile’s quest. I was amazed at the wide variety of grids people scurry in and out of each day. The art
Grandiose and ambitious best described my parents. Raised in a tiny rural town in Washington State, my father became a Secret Service agent who accompanied Presidents Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, and vice-president Nixon all over the world. “Can’t trust Nixon at poker,” Dad always said, many years before Watergate. Dad guarded Truman at the Potsdam peace
When I visited rural Japan in late fall, many windows in ordinary houses were filled with drying persimmon (fuyu). They’d become wrinkled, brownish-rust ovals the size of oranges. The large stem had been pared off and the fruits were hung with the former stem on the side, so their shapes became a flattened egg-shape. Outside
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The knee can sprout wings and fly. Ask any runner. Being curious about what a string, wet with paint would do on a knee joint, I begin a process of investigation. I first apply a circle of wet paint, as can be seen on the right leg. The model, a dancer, moves her knee and
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Little did I know that my decision to examine the middle joint of one finger would lead to a twenty-year creative exploration that would reveal deep parts of my life for all to see. A personal adventure would ensue, a unique journey. At first, I noticed that the pointing index finger is a symbol of
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When we move, six separate muscle groups interact in the human back. My model, a tolerant dancer with a string dipped in wet white paint across her shoulder blades, shrugs, humps forward, raises each shoulder up and down, then bends side to side, creating an image that depicts what these movements look like: wing-like designs.
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Fling your arm wide, up and around. The shoulder is the only human joint that rotates 180 degrees. I asked Joan, a dancer, to do this after I’d tied a string, wetted with paint, under her shoulder. After she’d completed her task, the wet paint made complex swirls. I found the design intriguing, resembling, to
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