We’re in bubble trouble. I’ve seen people not even looking up from their bubbles to see what’s in front of them. They’re going to crash into something.

I didn’t go anywhere this weekend. I was caught inside a bubble.

I used to have a personal pocket bubble, but I got rid of it. It was too costly, and I didn’t like the person I was becoming. Cut off from the world, my surroundings, my heart and breath.

Occasionally, someone will look up from their bubble to say something, only to find their companion bent over their bubble. So they go back to their bubble. Their souls cannot touch behind a bubble.

There are families of bubbles. Big bubbles, medium bubbles, little bubbles. We’ll find the bubble that is just right for us, and fall asleep inside them. The world goes on with or without us.

Watercolor, 15 X 11


The Golden Mean

In junior high science class, I vaguely remember learning about the Golden Mean, those specific measurements that repeat themselves throughout the natural world. It’s not to be confused with the Golden Rule, which could be the moral equivalent to the Mean. I painted the shell and outer space together to compare and contrast the Golden Mean. One is small and finite and the other is large and infinite. And yet they both start at one point and spiral outwards. At least they do in my mind, where factual science, although interesting fodder for creativity, takes a back seat to my personal mythology and stories that begin with “Maybe” and “I think”. There is so much to learn, it all becomes blurry as time passes.

I lost interest in this painting while painting it, which happens sometimes. I wanted the shell to look crisp, and I couldn’t achieve the results I wanted. Eventually it was deposited in the reject pile to be painted over at a later date. Then we moved and my husband took it out of the pile and hung it up in our new abode. So maybe it is done, as far as the rest of the world is concerned. Nothing more will be added, but at least it won’t be painted over. Acrylic, 24 X 24.


They are much more impressive in the wild. I’ve killed every cactus I ever owned. I over water and pay too much attention to them. The one I have now is shriveled and sad-looking. The motto of a cactus is “Be compelling and repelling at the same time.” My approach to this painting is two-fold: Paint everything I see. If painting what I see isn’t possible, then paint a suggestion of it. Acrylic, 18 X 24″.

Marching On, or Slithering

The one thing about abstract art that is the least understood is this— there is no right or wrong answer. Someone spills some paint and that’s art? Why? You want to scoff at Rothko’s bands of color because you expect a painting to show you what you should feel. Abstract art has no specific story to tell, yet it draws you in just the same. This painting can be hung in any way; upside down, right side up or sideways. It’s an allegory of modern life. Where have we been, where are we going?

Once some one asked Salvador Dali if he did a lot of drugs.
His response was, “I am a drug.”

Florida Dreaming

No more scowling faces. Creating spaces without eyes, faces or people, because after all, sometimes we all just want to be alone in a painting. Here we are in a beach paradise where the sky marches into the ever after and the flora beckons. No one knows what lies beyond, because who does want to know? As long as you are in this painting, you will never see anyone, and that’s what we all need after a long day of customer service. Acrylic on canvas, 41 x 36.