Oneanta [again!]

                                                               Oneanta Gorge oil on canvas 40x40


 This is a place I keep painting though I`ve only been in it a couple of times. A massive logjam guards the entrance and getting over this difficulty keeps the place relatively elder-free. No matter, I remember enough. What makes the narrow canyon so enthralling is a sense of being inside something womb like. The trail is the stream and it`s deep in places. Wading through the cold water toward a destination you can hear before seeing, creates an atmosphere of mystery and anticipation. Then the walk concludes at a pool with a gushing waterfall. It seems like the Source, the spigot of life. Such beauty!
Here is another;

                                                       Winter Oneanta oil on Yupo 12x9


 Quesadillas have become my Kummerspeck, my grief bacon, the last few days. Last Saturday we had to suddenly euthanize my cat Lincoln. He was ancient, in decline and probably diabetic. We`ve expected this but not so abruptly. But he was in obvious distress and we didn`t want him to suffer.
For the first time in 30 years I am petless and it is an awful, empty sensation. Oddly it`s not so sad, it is depressing. We`ve all experienced this. It is unacceptable.
Death and life, always mutually entwined, no exceptions. Mentally, I get it. I do my best to incorporate this reality into my heart. But the loss hurts like a personal amputation. Some of me is buried in the backyard too.
I need an animal to sleep on my lap. That makes me feel worthy, makes me a better person.

                                                       

                                                            Lincoln upon Randall two weeks ago


 I`m listening to the sprawling novel Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides on my I-phone. It is rich with history, Greek culture and gender identity matters. The narrator is a hermaphrodite, raised as a girl but male as an adult. I`m getting an education in these timely issues. Not too long ago I mentioned to my mother that gender wasn`t determined at conception, that it happens as the embryo develops while bathed in hormones and enzymes. She was flabbergasted and I wondered if this wasn`t common knowledge? Maybe it isn`t with all of the intolerance toward transgendered people. Even at birth, it`s sometimes unclear and the doctor makes a choice. Often the wrong one. It`s certainly a complex subject but the vitriol the Christian Right is expressing on which bathroom they can use is so discouraging. Who would make such a wrenching decision as gender reassignment if it wasn`t of critical importance? Those religious zealots are so mean spirited! Not happy unless someone is being persecuted! I remember what Salman Rushdie said "Fundamentalism in any religion is always about power, not faith".

 We were sitting by a pond in Stanley Park a few years ago and John remarked he preferred swans to ducks. "They`re more professional".


work for sale in my studio