Magical Birds I Have Known

  There is a pigeon roosting down the hall from my art studio. I am on the fifth floor. He gained entrance to the building through the permanently open window that allows access to the fire escape. I haven't seen a Mrs. Pigeon so I believe he is a bachelor. 
  He has chosen to set up housekeeping (although not tidy at all) on top of an abandoned piece of electronic equipment next to the window and as I write he is contentedly coo coo cooing.
  I like birds. I find them magical and inspiring. Birds seem to like me too. I loved how on mornings when working in the garden, hummingbirds would fly right up to my face and hover there, the breeze from their wings ruffling my hair. Or when little wrens and sparrows that would hop up on the bench next to me when I would be eating lunch outdoors. Ravens are always fun to watch and I love that a group of ravens is called (EEK!) a “murder”.
  Only once was I scared by it wasn’t the classic Hitchcock movie, “The Birds” but it felt like a scene from it.
  When I moved back to help my Dad take care of my Mom we converted the detached garage into a studio work/live space for me. One morning, like any other morning I opened the studio door to go outside, but something was different. The air was filled with the sound of birds quietly chittering, but not the normal everyday chittering sound of the birds nesting in the backyard trees...this was a fuller,  somewhat ominous sound...I looked around and then up at the electrical lines that ran along the rim of the embankment at the end of the yard...and there... filling the lines were hundreds of starlings...chittering...and all I could think of was the sound of the birds just before they attacked in Hitchcock’s movie and...not wanting to disturb them, I quietly retreated back into the garage and closed the door...
  I don’t think Mr. Pigeon and I will become great friends. I am not sure he is really welcomed by the other artists and creators on the fifth floor, but his presence has reminded me of all the many birds I have illustrated/painted in the past and, who knows, colorful magical birds may begin to appear in future garden paintings. 

Please visit my new website:

Black Birds Watercolor & Gouache on paper/2007

Birds & Flowers Watercolor & Gouache on paper/2009

Love Bird Watercolor on paper/1983

Yearning for Color...

   I had always grown up around textiles. My father was a furrier and his shop was filled with with all the minutia involved in making a fur coat: animal skins, a wooden box filled with nails used to stretch out the skins, spools of thread, felted batting, needles and pins and bolts of plain or brocade silk in various shades of brown, grey and black with cards of bias tape and ruching to match.
  Many a Saturday my older sister Jo and I would spend the day at the “shop” with Daddy. Mornings were spent coloring and drinking cups of coffee which we sweetened with too many sugar cubes and evaporated milk. 
  At noon my Dad would lock up the shop and we would walk down the street for a chicken pie at the Chicken Pie Shop, or a hamburger eaten while sitting at the counter at the Owl Drug Store, or if Uncle Joe the mink dealer was in town, Caesar’s restaurant where we would sit in tall dark wooden booths eating big plates of spaghetti and meatballs. 
  After lunch my sister and I would walk to the movie theatre and for hours we would be lost in make believe worlds. So many movies, but one of the movies I remember most clearly was Cinderella, Disney’s version filled with color and songs. And how magical it was when the birds and animals sang and tweeted while making the dress for Cinderella. 
  This scene with it’s spools of thread and bits of colorful ribbon danced through my head as we walked back to the shop and I couldn’t wait to make something beautiful too with spools of thread and bits of ruching waiting at the shop.
   I remember standing at Daddy’s work table winding brown thread around some pins stuck in the table’s wood surface and connecting bits of black ruching together and wanting so badly to make something magical and beautiful all the time yearning for a beautiful blue ribbon or bright pink thread… 
  Now if this was a movie, a calendar with pages flying off would flash onto the screen…fast forward 50 years…after 40+ years of working as an Illustrator, Designer & Painter I had decided to go back to school…Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising (FIDM) Here I would be able to combine all my skills and be able to work as a Designer in the fields of textiles and home goods. 
  What a heady experience! Color and beauty and practicality all combined! For the first time school made sense and I was thriving…until…screeching to a halt (movie sound effect) I began my computer classes… and my brain shut down and turned to teflon and computer speak slid right out of my grasp.
  And that was it…I could not use the skills I had honed for years. My heart could not connect with my hand pushing a mouse or stylist on a Wacom pad…and my heart and mind did not respond with an almost audible “click” when on the computer screen, just the right shade of green came up against just the right shade of violet…and I yearned for that visceral connection of Hand, Heart and Mind.
  I did finish my studies and graduate, but never did hone my computer skills. Why am I writing this? Because I had to stop beating myself up for not learning the computer skills needed to be hired as a textile designer. I had to accept that I did not fail. I created beautiful work while at FIDM. And not being in sync with technology does not make me incompetent it just makes me who I am. I am a person who needs to follow my heart and it’s yearnings.
  And “yearning” is what has moved me forward in my creative life. Yearning for color. Yearning to be able to paint and capture light and emotion as Van Gogh did. Yearning to create a thing of beauty to enhance the lives of others. Yearning continuously to engage in the ethereal Hand, Heart, and Mind connection.
 Please visit and share my new website:

Biker Boys/Man's shirt/2008 Gouache on watercolor paper

Chrysanthemums/Wallpaper/2006 Gouache on watercolor paper

Ottoman Carpet/2006 Gouache on watercolor paper

Plate Rim/2006 Gouache on watercolor paper



Tending the Garden

  I have been thinking a lot about gardens lately. It began last week when driving to the studio. The route I take goes up a hill through a canyon and with all the rain we have had this winter the canyon hillsides are in full bloom...wild mustard, Black Eyed Susans and daisies all competing waving their electric yellow heads. Brilliant orange poppies and tiny purple and white flowers wave too with the trees and shrubs creating a dramatic multi green background. And the air is filled with the smell of ground warming in the morning sun.
  All this reminds me of early mornings spent in gardens I have tended over the years the last of which was the backyard garden I planted while caring for my father. When I moved in the yard was all weeds and jumble. My father’s time and energy had been focused on taking care of my mother.
  Each morning after breakfast I would go out and clear a space. The first space I cleared I planted sunflowers. You can always count on sunflowers. They are strong and resilient and love to stand tall facing the sun. When they began to die back I cut off the flowers and wove their stems through the chainlink fence for the birds to feast on.
  The next Spring I planted Icelandic Poppies. They are so lovely with their tall thin stems and tissue like petals. I planted a packet of seeds for blue poppies and another for pink. When the petals dropped and the seed pods dried I broke them open scattering the seeds for the next year’s blooms...and bloom they did but to my surprise they were not just solid blue and pink as the year before, but variegated colors of pink with white edges or stripes and the same with the blue. And each year they came back a bit altered from the year before.
  The garden grew as I cleared more and more space. Avocado trees began sprouting up from seeds I had thrown into the compost. A fruiting peach tree and nectarine tree also sprouted and grew from compost seeds. It was a lovely garden and I tended it until my father passed and we sold the house.
  I miss tending a garden. So today I am posting these paintings in honor of resilient sunflowers and ever changing poppies. 
  Please visit and share my new website; 

Sunflowers 5" x 7" oil on canvas board 2017

Pink Poppy 5" x 7" oil on canvas board 2017

"Lost Edens and Magical Lands"

   Amazing how words can take me away...mind need to need to wait in lines or hustle and bustle...just drift and imagine...sketch and...there I am in a place where tea pots float above the trees and sweet honey bees bless the day....
  Sip some tea, or coffee if you choose, and enjoy your visit to my new website:

Tea Pot  8 1/2"x 10 1/2" oil on maple panel/1999
For comment or information:

Hello Spring! beginnings blooming. In ancient times Spring was the beginning of the new year. Seems reasonable to me that with the darkness of winter waning to signs of new life that something has ended and something new is about to begin.
  Honor and Blessings to all new beginnings in your life!
  Enjoy and visit my new website:

Luci & George 8 1/2"x 11" Gouache on paper/ 2001
For comment or information contact:

Along the Silk Road...

   I had always heard about the "Silk Road" but it wasn't until I returned to school in 2006 to study Textile Surface design that I understood the deep impact it had on human civilization. Not only were material goods transported along the Silk Road but cultures, religions and languages were also exchanged along the way. And even as today, there were times when traders could travel safely and at others they could encounter great danger.
   Isn't it amazing how history continues in such a predictable cyclical manner? How empires and governments rise and fall? How we humans continue to migrate, adapt and settle? How our creativity for survival affects the growth of us as a species on this our beautiful tiny blue planet?
  Why am I writing about this today? For the past year I have worked part time at a major department store and each day I am surrounded by a tiny sampling of women from around our tiny blue planet. I love my co-workers. I love hearing them talk, their words tinged with a hint of their country of origin. I love hearing conversations easily flow back and forth in two languages. Like a beautiful dance, both languages turn and swirl, laugh and tumble. We have so much to share...we have so much to learn from one another... and so much joy to create.
Enjoy and share my new website:
Turkish Garden /watercolor & gouache on paper 2007
For comment or information contact:  

"A Room of One's Own"

   I love these words. I have loved them since I first heard them. It is the title of a series of lectures given by Virginia Woolf in 1928 on women and fiction and later published as a book under the same title. In the opening lines Virginia Woolf states, "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." As a painter I have had many "rooms/studios" of my own both large and small.
  When I began to paint it was my bedroom in my parents home. When I was first married it was a little building off the back of the tiny one bedroom house we rented. One end of the interior of the little building was just wide enough for a work sink and a washing machine and at the other end of the room my oversized wooden drafting table filled the space from wall to wall. In the few feet of space left in the middle stood my easel along with 2 bikes and some storage boxes.
  The little building set the standard and with each successive move my first thought when looking at a living space has been, "Is there space here for my studio?" Now this seems a simple question and as the years have progressed I have found many "rooms of my own", sometimes creative thinking was employed...a bedroom becomes a studio/a living room becomes a bedroom. Garages were an easy solution and many a year was spent and art created in garage studios and several times I have rented studios away from my home.
  My current studio is my fourth rented studio and is on the fifth floor of an old storage building built in the 1920's/30's. I am surrounded by wood workers with buzzing refinishers with sanders whining... a bicycle repair shop with an air compressor that fills itself hourly...a huge freight elevator across from my space that rumbles and squawks every time someone uses it... and yet, amidst all this chaotic noise, I have a space of my own, to paint in...dream in...write in...and be me in.  

For information or comment: