There was an old man with long silky stright white hair on the elevator in the 42 st station. I … More
Category: painting
queen anne’s lace
Standing at the edge of the field of queen anne’s lace I know I belong there sycophants notwithstanding I see … More
Sirens
In the distance I hear church bells. Also sirens. A medley of sounds: birdsong and thrust reversers echoing in the … More
Journey
at the end of the journey a calm descends small gifts are acknowledged in the book of your life. larger … More
Making things
Entering into the realm of making things entails a responsibility to claim the space you are shaping. Sometimes there is … More
Being not up to snuff
I know I am really sick when I don’t pick up a pen or paintbrush or some other implement of … More
in which I read a letter
On writing a memoir: It is hard. I stop a lot. I have no context. I am critical of my … More
