Belly Up 20x30 on a beautiful birch panel

What a summer!

There have not been many paintings.

I did paint, and go to the studio almost every day, but I have nothing to share here. I made piles of studies, and a few large messes. My dear friend John would say that this is a good thing. He says that this frustration and disapproval of my own work will be followed by a huge breakthrough. I hope so.

In preparation, I made a trip to Des Plains, to Owl Lumber and picked up some nice birch plywood. I have been busy with shellac and rabbit skin glue, and have several panels ready to go. My dilemma and one thing holding me up, is size. I love to paint big, but my studio is crowded with large unsold pieces. So, I am going a bit smaller. I have a few 20x30 pieces that will probably get paint first.

I have to apologize for the state of my blog. Between all of the deaths, Autumn's stroke, the many losses from every direction. I have been distracted for a few years now. I have really had a hard time moving on. So...

Rick and I went to Burning Man a few weeks ago. It was one of the greatest experiences ever.

Love of Light.

As I am sitting here, finishing up my painting of light flooding my dining room table- the same table where We have eaten many happy family meals, played games, paid bills and decorated for holidays- The whole time, all of these long years, she was in the cellar. I am filled with sadness over the story about Elisabeth Fritzl, the Austrian teenager thrown into a dungeon under her house, raped by her father and having 7 of his children. Oh my God!

I complained all winter about the lack of light. I complained about the cold and will be heard complaining when I don't get out enough. I really think that I have never had cause to complain about anything.

Three of Elisabeth's children had never seen sunlight or the sky or anything outside of their prison- not ever. But Elisabeth had. She knew her father was her monster- she knew what she was missing all of her 24 years in hell- and when I think of all the things that I have done since 1984, and all the ways that I have changed, my heart is aching for her. When I try to imagine how good she must feel now that she is free, it is easy to understand that she may never have a good day. How could a person just get over that and move on? Is it even possible to heal?

Here, across the ocean there is little that we can do about it other then to read what has been reported and hope that the photographers leave them alone. All we can really do is care.

Sending out love, caring and prayers to you Elisabeth Fritzl and to your family. May God's perfect comfort be your blessing. May angels surround you and protect you for the rest of your life.