Revisiting collages

Looking over a few older collages, some still in my possession, others gone off to other pastures. Looking at older work to get a sense of where I’m going next. This is my pattern after hanging a show. … Come back. Assess. Absorb. Work again. Go do something else.

It’s turned out that working in a couple of disciplines, means I often go through phases where I can’t get to my visual art anyway. Busy with music right now, for example. A great problem to have. And so, it also seems like another good opportunity to step back and don’t decide, but wait. Look around. See what’s here. See what’s missing. Eager to get back soon, tho’.


email pic 2At the Appointed Time (sold)

"Don't Make Me Laugh"
“Don’t Make Me Laugh” (sold)

Day in the ParkIMG_9155_2

Red Lotus (or, What You Believe) 30" x 40"
Red Lotus (or, What You Believe)
30″ x 40″

All This Yours (sold)All This Will be Yours Someday

Flo and the River unfinishedFlo and the River, (sold)



Here’s a variety of paintings representing the past few years, most recent (top) to oldest (bottom).

At a recent opening, someone asked me what my paintings “mean.” I suspect that’s a question that’s been asked of artists for all time. … I answered him truthfully: they represent something to me, usually, which I’m aware of after I paint them. But they’re a little like dreams, what do dreams mean? As soon as you try to say, something important about the dream is gone.

Steady Girl

Steady Girl, 36″ x 36″


Detail of Bear and Two Ladies (full size 34″ x 36″)

Family Matters

Family Matters 40″ x 48″ (sold)


Portrait, 16″ x 20″

Family 13" x 16"
13″ x 16″

Help Somebody

Help Somebody 24″ x 36″


Why She Leaves 24″ x 36″

Green and pink bliss

Bliss 30″x40″


"The Secret Keepers"
“The Secret Keepers” 24″ x 36″



I’m creating a lot of block figures at the moment, as well as paintings and collage. Here are some blocks-in-progress. I’m sure they’ll go through many more changes.


Slow Progress

Each day’s work/practice builds on the last. Put in one day of effort, and the next day, you’ll be building on the last, and so on, and so on. Except when you need to take a break.

Late in life I’ve discovered, or finally absorbed what it means to try a little, then rest, then try again, then rest. This can make the whole process of art-making (or almost anything) less arduous, more pleasurable. … One way to do this is to put in work daily on something you’re trying to accomplish. Each day you’ll move “ahead” some, though “ahead” is not totally accurate. Through? Around? Across? Maybe it’s just safest to say you’ll move. Somewhere.

Another way of experiencing this process is to work on one piece just before the stress or tension or feeling of doubt sets in; then give it a rest, while working on something else. The rhythm employed here can feel almost dance-like as you move between pieces, tho’ sometimes a bit schizoid, particularly as you get numerous pieces going at once. … I suspect that artists have done something like this from time immemorial, because, no doubt, for as long as there’s been art-making, there’ve been battles between insight and judgment, acuity and dullness, poor self-talk and self-aggrandizement —  all in the name of trying to get on the page (or canvas) something that wants to be recorded, that looks somewhat akin to what is imagined.

When I studied singing decades ago,  my voice teachers each had their own idiosyncratic metaphors for how to translate the sensations of singing to their students.  I was told to imagine an egg in the back of my throat (to create a wide “ahhh” opening), to sing along a “ribbon of sound” in order to keep the sound from moving jaggedly into and out of various registers. The effort then in singing was to imagine what those teachers meant, how singing (“releasing the voice”) felt to them, and how I might feel those same sensations in my throat or along that imaginary ribbon. Visual art is the first practice I’ve done where I haven’t tried to translate someone else’s instructions to my own experience. I try to paint until something looks real to me, what I call “real,” that is, or at least pleasurable. Something that registers in my perception as recognizable, something I can converse with. I would imagine that most artists can articulate a parallel sort of experience, tho’ likely in other terms. Perhaps poetry is really the medium for this topic. ?

As a part-time teacher, I’m often challenged to convey some sort of at-peace sense to my students, to encourage and guide them back to a relationship or dialogue with themselves that has gotten disrupted somehow. It’s not usually enough to say “trust yourself,” but really that’s the message underlying all others.

My Studio



The new top drawer of my flat file: Blocks blocks blocks. Some of these made it into frames that I painted and hammered nails and tacks into. IMG_6660

Here’s my son, modeling comfort in suspension:

IMG_6662(Bonus: Check out his music at