Journal Keeping

                                                   From Diary to Journal

When I was young we all kept diaries.  They would hold our most secret thoughts, dried flowers from a prom corsage, tickets to a rock concert, always travel tickets and often a special note or token from an adventure.  Occasionally I would sketch a flower, tree, bird or something that caught my fancy. Somehow these tidbits of memories and fun would turn into fanciful pages.....all without the slightest effort.  Fancy gift wrapping, tickets, flowers would somehow form to tell a story abut our lives.  How I wish I still had some of those pages to reflect on today. 

Fast forward many, many years and I am still keeping a diary, albeit today it is a journal.  I especially take pleasure in writing about my travels.  I could share with you the favorite Tratorria in Italy, or the amazing little gift shop on a back alley in Paris, but the most pleasure giving pages are the ones that carry with them the sketch of a door or building or the chic young lady drinking an espresso.  Along with these are stories to tell, some from my imagination, some from ease dropping or just some historical tidbit. Many pages I would not hesitate to share with you, but many more fall short of what I would call perfection. That is not the purpose.  If you only strive for perfection, then you will loose that ability to be spontaneous and it is that spontaneity that brings forth the best work.   Mostly I tell myself to just let it rip...most likely I will be the only one to see what I accomplished that day anyway, and often a sketch, good or bad, will turn into something I will work on in the studio.  

Years ago while living in England, I purchased a Barbour bag, and it stands ready, like an emergency bag, and travels wherever I go. Tucked in that bag is a black journal, small water color set. empty spice jar for water, pencils and a few ink pens. I never want to loose a memory to a lost moment. If time is short, then I will take a picture of what I want to capture in hopes that the time lingers on in my mind. I could probably count 20 journals lined up in my studio and each one tells its own unique story.

Start simple, I tell my students, and don't compare your work with others. What lays in your journal is what is peculating in your mind and your artistic interpretation. 

The picture of the door is from Mexico and is done with a fairly dry brush.  Paints dry fast there and it is easier to use less water...that and in itself creates a vision.

 I awoke this morning to the sun laying an orange blanket over the San Jacinto Mountains, a slight breeze rustling the Palm Fronds and the Black Phoebe chirping by the pool. This short play by Mother Nature took a soul on the brink of depression and planted a seed of hope. No matter how much abuse we heap on her, she wakes up each day anew to give us hope.  No matter the gloom of the day, in rain or sleet, she teaches us that the sun will shine again.  She is resilient; so can we be.

No matter your side on politics or religion, it has been a tumultuous few years. I doubt there is a person on this planet that hasn't been gripped by the atmosphere that has swirled around us. We have lost friends and family to distraught emotions, illness, and, sadly even death. There have been days when I have felt that my body has been turned inside out and my heart exposed to every emotion known to mankind. With each of these days,if we look hard, we can use the  knowledge we have gleaned from Mother Nature. The same hope that we see when the sun shines, or we walk down a path where jasmine lingers in the air, or a bird chirps by your ear, or you just breathe in the freedom of fresh air. You realize those are the things that get our feet to move, our hearts to sing and our soul to find contentment. 

As a writer and artist, I can take the toughest days and loose myself in hours of creativity.  My art lingers for hours, peculating new ideas and thoughts and and carrying my angst away like the Santa Anna winds, which just happens to be blowing today. 

I've noticed that the writing is a bit more muddled with angst and the art has taken on multiple personalities, but they are there awaiting.....awaiting the new day, new thoughts and new hope. 

Step into the zone.

 I normally find myself in the studio diffusing myself in the depths of water and paint.  There has always been something soothing about watching the water take control of the painting and eagerly anticipating the results. Many artist struggle with loosing control in this way, but I find it fun and anticipatory. ,Of course, this year is a bit different what with the Pandemic and the upheaval politically and socially around the world, so my normal prescription for escaping has just not worked. I find myself churning and seeking answers for  things that seem unanswerable. 

Like most of you, I have spent the summer inside, forgoing adventures with friends and family;turning a normal friendly personality into a bit of an "Oscar the Grouch". My normal state of writing and painting just hasn't been that cathartic, well, until the past couple of weeks when I went into the studio, pulled out my acrylic paints and slammed some paint on a canvas.  It has been years since I stepped away from water color and I have to admit it felt so good to just let loose with color and let my mind wonder.  

I have now created a number of paintings in the past few days.  I stepped away from myself and really let go of emotions and anger and angst.....it certainly felt good.....and I'm pretty pleased with the results. 

If your feeling out of sorts, perhaps you should get out of the comfort zone and try something new. It sure worked for me.

Glimmer of Hope

I've been thinking a lot because there isn't much else to do besides watch endless movies and series.  I think of my life and how fortunate it has been to travel,immerse myself in different cultures and explore the possibilities of another life......not to mention the taste and texture of foods from other worlds. I have been fortunate to expand my horizons and grow with the knowledge that the more different we are; the more we are the same. I've reached out my hand to young and old and felt the touch of their lives enrich me beyond belief.  I've lost myself in their art and saw depth of character that no words could express. 

We now sit in the depths of sorrow and despair, but I still see a glimmer of hope in the rising and setting sun and the eyes of innocent children. They are our hope. The rising sun because we are lucky to see it greet us to know that we have another day to grow and learn. The setting sun because it gave us another beautiful day to participate. The children because we can watch them bounce along to a drum that sees life and love with each step.  They are truly our hope and we must protect them at all cost.  

For many years I have taught art to young people of all ages and they give me life lessons each time. Some refuse to budge from their own dreams and follow their path to their vision.  Some take hesitant   baby steps to their finished product.  Each method takes me along on a journey of joy and also redemption from all my mistakes and mishaps along the way.  I see myself in each method.   I miss teaching them this year of Covid. I look forward to doing so in the future of a healthier and happier union for all. 

It is hard to write these days and harder yet to stay positive, but I must and we must.  I still have to share my adventures with you about my trip last year from Singapore to Dubai.  I still float on those memories.

Art in the Time of Pandemic

In times of crisis I tend to look toward the optimistic. Hey, this gives me the opportunity to accomplish so very much...why I will paint, and write that cookbook, and clean the attic, (so to speak), but it isn't long before inertia sets in and I can't remember what I was going to do today, let alone what projects I had in mind.

So, here we all sit five months into a Pandemic with no ending in sight.  It has been an amazing roller-coaster of a ride in all our lifestyles, in the medical fields and mostly in politics.  The protocol, or lack thereof, has driven friends and family apart and created a divide in the United States, like none since the civil war, in fact it feels like a war.

My community of artist, and their ability to create, has been all over the board.  Some have been so prolific that I am green with envy, but many, like myself feel that all creative forces have been driven from our soul. I stare unblinking at the canvas and try to will the drive to paint.  I sit at the computer and wonder where the words went and try to regurgitate some thoughts. I know it is all in there deep in my soul, but somehow it is like it is afraid to come out and face the virus.

Today, my friend, that lost her husband in the not too distant past, started a new blog,  Bohobeppe.blogspot.com,, check it out.  She is a great writer and will take you on her journey of rediscover. I've been there and know how important it is to spill your guts and let our the agony.

I figure that if Candice can do it, well, so can I take a few minutes now and then to express myself. Maybe feel a bit guilty about not producing some art, of some kind. On second thought, I haven't been totally idle. I have spent lots of  time and energy  redoing showers and decorating my little house at the lake.  I figure I might as well spend my money on something....can't shop, can't dine out, can't travel....but I can search the web......

Stay tuned for updates, I hope, maybe some art again.....I did manage this one little door one day...

Stay safe and stay healthy.

On the road again.

The trip from Washington to Calufornia in the fall is food for the pallet of an artist. . It doesn't matter how often I make the trip, I never get bored, even in the " boring parts,", as my friends love to say, for each time I see new shapes, colors and textures.  My traveling companion chuckles as the adrenaline rush of a new shape, or cloud formation, or color, makes me squeal like a little kid. If you keep your eyes open, and survey your surroundings, you will see all manner of new things. Even if you hate road trips, you can make this an adventure, instead of boring hours cooped up in a car. Some of you will roll your eyes at this statement, but I believe it to be true, like I believe there is art in all of us. 

Rocks can sprout out of hills that had been invisible before the sun moved just a fraction of an inch in the sky.  . Suddenly they shine with light and create landscapes that seem unworldly.  Shadows on hills move the eye over depths of color in purples and blues and suddenly fade into a black crater of mystery. As an artist you can only hope to replicate these colors in the studio and capture the emotion, but, alas, it is not always easy.


I find travel to be one of our greatest gifts.  I just read an article that said that the milliniums really don't care much about gathering stuff, but more about gathering experiences.  I am lucky to have a partner that feels the same.  He would much rather take a trip, eat a fabulous meal, or maybe acquire a beautiful piece of art, then have a home flooded with "things".  There is much wisdom in that philosophy.  I don't care if I'm on a boat,plane,train or car, I am always fascinated by the shadows,colors, textures, sounds, smells, taste that surround me.  I fall deep into an abyss of wonder. and loose myself in the culture and drama that surrounds me. Perhaps I am influenced by the fact that I gave up art and travel for years, and my heart and mind are trying to make up for all that lost time.

This trip the sun shone so brightly on the snow peaked mountains that they glistened and felt within reach. As the wheels roll down the highway, my mind explodes with possibilities.  I see myself in the studio creating the scenes that have floated past me; color, texture, shadow and light work together in perfect harmony to create a kaleidoscope of design possibilities.

Small town's, sometimes with only three buildings creep up on you unexpectedly and provide the perfect little church sitting in a field, or a barn that looks like the whisper of a breeze could knock it down. .  I have so many shots of silos, animals,old gas stations and people,(usually kids) and building after building after building.  What are the stories?

Next I will share some of my trip from Singapore to Dubai.  Speaking of smells, taste, textures, color and people, oh my the people....

Fall Brings Changes

Fall Brings Changes

Many people begin the new year with new and fresh thoughts. It is an obvious new beginning. You wipe away the old as the year fades into oblivion and you promise yourself a great new future, as if you are cradling a new baby and see infinite possibilities.  It makes perfect sense to project life and new beginnings in this manner and time of year.

My changes always seem to take place in the fall. The leaves on tress begin to dance with color and I hear them beckoning me out into the world.  Paint me; take a walk, snuggle with a book, or just gaze out the window and think of the winter sliding into your life.  I love the first frost of winter and how the sun can peak out and create a glaze on the earth as if it has been sprinkled with fairy dust. Life has led me in a different direction these days,  and so I rarely build a snow man or toss a snowball, or slide around on icy sidewalks.  In winter you will see me walking among  Palm Trees as I gaze at stars on a sidewalk. Palm Springs and its myriad of happy hours, golfing and plein air painting has now become my winter playground.  Nonetheless my changes are just as relevant as my snowy winters skating on snow in the Northwest.   My snowing nights and visions of snow on the butte have turned into sunsets over the San Jacinto Mountains that literally take your breath away.  Just when you think you have seen the most magnificent sunset in the world, you are gifted with yet another the very next night.  How could you not be inspired?  Each winter in each place is a gift, and as an artist they stir that creative bubble lurking just below the service.

What I have learned is that life is never stagnant.  I have a friend that likes to say, "if you want to make God laugh, make a plan!"  How often do I hear the lament , "if only"; if only we had taken that dream trip; if only I had said I loved you more ; if only I had been kind; if only we had not let life slip through our fingers?   If you have read my different blogs over the years, then you have journeyed with me on this rigorous path of laments, grief, sadness, joy, adventure and new beginnings, always, always new beginnings. Art has sustained me through it all. It has enveloped me in its arms and given me strength

and great joy. I am so thankful to look at life through this lens. 

Recently I found a new path and so I begin fall with great hope and expectations.  As I weave my way around critical aspects of daily life, I will be ingesting a heavy dose of discipline to be more creative: paint and write and learn to have fun again.  Oh, I know, if you follow my social media, it all looks like fun, but that is only the character that appears on those pages.  Inside is a ghost that is looking at life stream by at a steady pace and needs to slam on the brakes and smell that proverbial rose. 

I will try to keep myself honest and , if you know me, help me on this new path.  Call me out. Ask me if I have painted are written a word lately. Sometimes we need a captain to guide us through the fog. 

As I said no to many things,, I am saying yes to me. 

Hope along on the ride.  I need all the help I can get.