Studio Tables: The longer I have this new small studio, the more I gather for subject matter for photographs. Because on the table I can watch once living vegetation and flowers change. Eventually to become dust. I am not waiting for whatever is on the table to become a certain way. I do not know…
A while ago, I contacted Carol LeWitt to arrange a convenient time to visit Sol’s studio in Chester, CT. I had never visited it in all the years since Sol took leave of us in 2007. She asked me if I wanted to work in it. I didn’t know that there was such a possibility…
My email inbox unfolded with reminders for sales, credit card offers, and grants whose deadlines approached. One of those grants requires that I put twenty images into Photoshop to resize them, which is tedious and boring. So, I decided the heck with it. Instead, I am writing about the careful closing of a photographic series…
Originally published January 26, 2011 More often than not, when I visit the water, its unstoppable motion and infinite gurgles take me to a place in my mind that is peaceful. The phenomenon of water itself overrides my heady turmoils, my rants of self-deprecation, the seemingly continual aches and pains within my physical being. Water…
Republished from May 26, 2017 Since last September, my life has thrown me one punch after another. The savior, which blocked the punches or made them not hurt as much, is my work. My intentions for doing and for which I have been punched have all been greater than how they were received. If I…
It is June 25, 2022, the day after the Supreme Court of the United States began to take away our human rights with the reversal of Roe V. Wade, and the Republican party could blatantly roll out its conspiracy to uproot our freedoms. Two and a half years ago, I was on the cusp of…
Published originally on September 23, 2010 Making visual art is easy for me. Writing is more of a challenge. I started writing when I began to immerse my life in music, because I was catapulted into solitude after my ex-husband left me, lo, these many years ago. My focal points had shifted. I turned inward.…
I might as well have written them today. Easter Sunday, 2022. Things have shifted from 2018 to 2022 in terms of what I cite as the events occurring. It is snowing. My son and his bride-to-be were traveling last night along a highway and escaped being hit by a huge evergreen tree that fell across…
Originally published October 16, 2011 In some ways, I am just so stuck. Stuck inside my box, which is a fairly large box, if one considers its contents: both metaphorically and ideologically. Those who discuss the distinction between “inside” and “outside” the box are attempting to convey the difference between status quo and revolutionary, or…
It was Easter Sunday. No family around to celebrate The rising of Christ from the dead. No eggs planted anywhere. My breakfast French toast was dipped in eggs though, Drenched in syrup, where berries and cinnamon also floated. The dishes were washed. The reading of the news was done. I was sufficiently terrorized, Thrust into…
