In Overtime

I have a recurring dream where I am running through fields and valleys, but always open spaces. I can run forever. The strange thing is that I am on all fours. When both hands hit the hard ground my body propels forward. I glide through vast green landscapes with the wind rushing through my hair. As natural as this feels, I am only aware that this abnormal when others see me whizzing on by.
But, this is my way.
I am fast and I am free, yet incorrect as others see.
I am not sure where this dream originates.
I had a coach growing up who would videotape our games. I used to run with my arms swinging uncontrolably like I was swimming through the air. My teammates would laugh and poke fun at me.
But, it was my way.
In the past 3 years I have had 2 knee surgeries. Sadly, I can no longer run. At times it is even painful to walk. I continued to play after my first surgery, which lead me to a second one just a year later. I was unwilling to give up something that I had done for 34 years. I never thought there would be a day without soccer. Secretly I am entertaining the idea of an old lady league when we return to the states. Please remember that this is a secret and I am keeping it from my knees.Right now I can only dream.These days I am trying to concentrate on my painting, but it is like making love to a stranger while fantasizing about a distant lover.

Endorse, Exalt, Essential

Today Katherine came over and helped me in the studio. I have about 50 of these little paintings (4x4) and she is doing the lettering.

As an artist it is so important to surround yourself with warm people who endorse and exalt your creativity. I am fortunate to have Katherine as my friend because she does this so effortlessly.

Friends that have warmth for your creative life are just like the spices that we painted today. They are essential for the recipe.

I am also fortunate to have a husband who understands my need to create.

He too supplies the vital warmth I need to thrive.

My leaves bend toward this warmth for without it I would wither.

Parts and pieces

The sun shone brightly across the canola fields today. Minus the happy sounds of dancing

Turkish girls, I stopped to hear the silence of the sun.

I found myself getting a bit Thoreau-like pondering a single canola flower. It's so easy to overlook the details, when the whole is so extraordinary.

I know that all the events in my life that were half understood and half remembered were a result of ignoring the details.

Now that I am older, I am more concerned with the parts and pieces that make up the whole. Maybe I have slowed down and that immediate gratification is not so important. Only seeing the big picture was really never gratifying because I tended to overlook some very important details

For instance, my first husband's pencil thin neck(size 14) . Why hadn't I noticed this beforehand?

Another example was the day I adopted Sienna from the shelter and didn't notice that her teeth were all rotten until I got her home.

I also rented many apartments that had things terribly wrong and didn't realize until after I had signed the lease. I adapted to the lack of closet space and unusual placement of electrical outlets. Blow drying my hair in the kitchen was quirky.

I preferred quirky back then.

I believe the appreciation of all the details comes with age. The big picture is clearer now because of this.

Things that are happening now will be remembered in greater detail and better understood.

I still prefer quirky-somethings just don't change.

Yet somethings do, I am now married to a man with a normal sized neck(16 1/2) and Sienna has a healthy mouth of gums.

So the next time you find yourself wrapped up in the big picture, try to think of all the little brushstrokes it took to complete it.

Beginnings against the grey

Winter is beginning here in Deutschland. I haven't seen the sun in 7 days. The Autumn colors are still vibrant yet seem flat against all the grey. Today while walking the dogs I saw two Turkish girls run into a canola field. They were dancing, singing, and laughing.

I stopped and thought, it's okay if the sun doesn't shine today;

but today is the last day! Though I don't think I can depend on these little Turkish girls to dance away my winter blahs. John, the weatherman, says the sun might break out a little bit on Monday. Dance little Turkish girls, Dance!

Here is day 1 on a new still life. I won't finish it until Monday because I don't paint on the weekends. Tonight is date night.

Have a good weekend-Tschüss

Ich Bin Swine!

Wandering in Japan

Wordless

Wednesday

not much to say.

Grey German day

If I am my own worst enemy, how can I be my friend?

I spend too much time in my head, alone.

I go from dogs to dishes away from the studio.

Today I cleaned house

I could build a new dog with what's inside the vacuum cleaner.

Please visit http://www.artsourceofdenver.com/

Amy has been my agent for the past 12 years.

Look at all the wonderful artists that she represents.

There is one of my paintings on the first page in the lower left hand corner. The blue abstract with the orange splash then there is another in gallery 1 on the second page. The one with the 3 red circles also in the lower left corner. You can click on it to see it larger.

Kishimojin

I found this unusual postcard at the National Museum of Modern Art in Kyoto painted by Insho Domoto. At first I thought it was a Hindu painting of Adam and Eve and the Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus.

Since I am fortunate enough to be a student at the University of Google, I was able to research it further.

The woman in the painting was once a demon ghost with many children. It is uncertain how many she actually had. Some texts say 500 while others say 10,ooo. She was considered a demon because

she kidnapped and murdered other little children to feed her own.

Her name is Hariti in Indian mythology and Kishimojin in Japanese. Translated in English it means mother of little ghosts.

Buddha decided to teach her a lesson and hide one of her own children. She then experienced the great loss and suffering that she was causing others. This realization made her repent her evil ways. She then transformed into the goddess known for the protection of children.

She is often portrayed with a pomegranate in her right hand which is a symbol of fertility because of the many seeds.

Last year John had to work in Armenia. He brought me home this statue. I wonder if this is Hariti?

I might have to enroll in some more classes to find out.