Generations and Generations

Memorial Day. An experience I had in 2015 on a spiritual tour in Ireland popped into mind. I haven’t thought about it for a long time, yet it was one of the most powerful experiences I had there. And it is asking to be told today. About two-thirds of the way through...

Regarding Baskets

“I was told there would be a handbasket.” This meme, popping up everywhere it seems, made me chuckle when I first read it weeks ago. Yet lately it hasn’t seemed so funny. Looking at photos and videos from California, Oregon and Washington have more literally brought...

An Art Path In a Pandemic

Oh my, here we are.   This painting is several years old, but eerily it makes me think of the virus, its stealthy infiltration of our systems and our cities.     The last week has been a hard one for me because I have been awash in fear and grief. Not...

Ode to a Sweatshirt

As I reached happily for my well worn hooded sweatshirt again this morning, I wondered suddenly why I feel such affection for it, and for all those I’ve ever had, why I am always on the lookout for new ones to replace those that wear out, and why I am so excited when...

Painting With My Dead Friend

Holly, a dear friend of mine, died last summer. She was a writer and a creative soul in many ways, including artmaking of all kinds. She was an imaginative free spirit who appreciated the unconventional. So her art was usually quirky. Self-taught, she didn’t often...

Happy Birthday

My birthday was ten days ago. Miraculously, the weather was lovely that day—sunny, highs in the 70s, low humidity. Highly unusual for that date. My birthday almost always falls on one of those insufferably hot, humid and airless midsummer days familiar to Minnesotans....