Plate 41, returning to the Desert of Tears

I find myself wandering creatively , not always a positive place to be in, especially if one feels lost. I feel a bit lost.

In poring over files I stumbled upon a bit of text I hadn’t recognized, yet I felt it perfectly evoked how I create, the random layering of pattern, image, reference . But who wrote it? After a bit of sleuthing through further files I discovered I’d written it. First questioning the state of my memory I was pleased I had saved this snippet. I will have to review it more closely  but I feel upon initial reading  it will easily integrate into a project I’d set aside, Saint Anthony & the Desert of Tears.

The mystery text follows:

Saint Anthony and the Desert of Tears

Once in a land of overripe fruit a fair young man  realized  he had his fill.

This realm of weariness overcame him, his joys soured, the jams curdled, the birds no longer sang; his  morning daemons stayed for tea.

He tossed aside his pretty things. His brocaded grass of green  cope caterpillar velvet plush  a cocoon of  downy miniver; his linen smock that butterfluttered embroidery ever so clever with fleas  centipedes and  mites, his coif that glittered metallic verdure as pompously  as the proud  Junebug, these , his treasures, his jewels, his bedazzlements he tossed aside; hair pantaloons would have to do.

Of delicacies he had no stomach, crepes as light as seraphim breath sat heavy as unctuous fog, gentle honeysuckle dew gathered with fairy care he could not bear; rook tossed spelten loaf would have to do.

His chambers swaddled in diapered  tapestry and  brocaded opal plush,  carpets as tender as mole moss ached his swollen sole and tormented flesh, bone and marrow; he must breath to gulp the word , the desert cave would have to do.

With staff and skull young Anthony set forth sandward.

Farewell fair Egyptland.

Artist as Daemon
Tuscon AZ
Christmas Day, 2017

So I’ve decided to return to my St.Anthony project , illustrating/illuminating St.Athanasius’ account of the third century desert father, Anthony/Antony. I randomly turned to verse 41:

Plate 41
“Life of St.Anthony”,
graphite, colored pencil, gouache on toned paper
12 by 9 inches 

This passage, 41, features a woeful , self pitying Satan confronting a monk  (not clear if it is Anthony ) , bemoaning being misunderstood. It felt a natural place to return .

The passage follows :

41. “And since I have become a fool in detailing these things, receive this also as an aid to your safety and fearlessness; and believe me for I do not lie. Once some one knocked at the door of my cell, and going forth I saw one who seemed of great size and tall. Then when I enquired, “Who are you?” he said, “I am Satan ” Then when I said, “Why are you here?” he answered, “Why do the monks and all other Christians blame me undeservedly? Why do they curse me hourly?” Then I answered, “Wherefore do you trouble them?” He said, “I am not he who troubles them, but they trouble themselves, for I have become weak. Have they not read ,” “The swords of the enemy have come to an end, and you have destroyed the cities?” “I have no longer a place, a weapon, a city. The Christians are spread everywhere, and at length even the desert is filled with monks . Let them take heed to themselves, and let them not curse me undeservedly.” Then I marvelled at the grace of the Lord, and said to him:
“You who art ever a liar and never speakest the truth , this at length, even against your will, you have truly
spoken. For the coming of Christ has made you weak, and He has cast you down and stripped you.”
But he having heard the Saviour’s name, and not being able to bear the burning from it, vanished.”

Now onto other plates.

Plate 41
“Life of St.Anthony”,
graphite, colored pencil, gouache on toned paper
12 by 9 inches




Six Weeks in Nowhereville

Six Weeks in Nowhereville
Graphite, gouache, ink on toned illustration board
15 by 19 inches


New work on paper , just off the drawing board. Inspired in part by our bumpy ride from LA to Chicago, the final move of all our worldly goods in a bladder destroying rented truck. From our high perch (which is cool, the big rig-ness  of it all) David, Viola and yours truly drove through some majestic landscapes. However the bleak desert  landscape between LA and Las Vegas has proven the most inspiring .

Forget the imperial mountainscapes frosted in white, the red stone canyons, the luminous sunsets (and rises) , what seeped into my brain (and pencil) were ice cream cone shaped stands, forlorn and abandoned in the sands, galleons left adrift amongst the chaparral , and the countless “Jackrabbit” shacks/homesteads, built with such enthusiasm and abandoned with such a heavy heart. Neon glitz and sham popped up like unwholesome mushrooms we approached Los Vegas.  From my bumpy perch I made short handed doodle-notes which trigger memory and move my pencil along.

Doodle note from our cross country move from LA to Chicago, Summer 2022
Detail: Six Weeks in Nowhereville
Detail :Six Weeks in Nowhereville

The following, an album from that four day trip, late July, early August 2023, I think the quick snapshots convey the nihilistic neon of this fascinating wasteland:

I wasn’t able to capture these peculiar and abandoned ice cream shops, but a google search revealed their history.

From bumpy rental truck to comfy home studio.

Jiminy Muerte
Six Weeks in Nowhereville
Graphite, gouache, ink on toned illustration board
15 by 19 inches

Epiphany 2023

colored pencil, graphite, gouache on toned paper
9 by 12 inches


Today’s drawing , just in time for the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord. Hectic few days and I feared I wouldn’t finish in time . 👑👑👑”To offer gold is to proclaim Christ’s Kingship, to offer incense is to adore his Godhead, and to offer myrrh is to acknowledge his mortality “ Saint Odilo of Cluny. I offer this drawing .

🌟Wishing a joyous Epiphany🌟

colored pencil, graphite, gouache on toned paper
9 by 12 inches


Evergreen, Tempus fugit & happy 2023

detail “Evergreen”, 2023

Happy new year, I send out wishes for a year of renewal,optimism and rebirth.

I start the new year with a new drawing that I spontaneously called Evergreen. I had hoped for it to be the last drawing of 2022 but there are so many hours in a day. I finished up moments ago, so happy 2023.

colored pencil, graphite and gouache on toned paper
24 by 18 inches

It is a continued exploration of otherworld, underworlds, pointy forms, death and rebirth, renewal and fir trees ( a friend pointed the fir tree forms out , aware of my fondness for Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Fir Tree ).

Detail “Evergreen”


Detail “Evergreen”

 This affinity for renewal isn’t new of course but does add a hint of optimism to my usual obsession over memento mori- the serpent devouring its own tale, a well known allegorical symbol , sprouts new growth .

Another recurrent theme is that of pointed forms, be they vaguely Gothic or conifer.

Detail : “Vein Creator Spiritus”

Even millinery is nearly always pointed:

Detail self portrait

The other day one of my drawings started incorporating this pointed fir tree / hermitage theme which I plan on exploring further.

Mr.Punch’s Leviathan
colored pencil and gouache on toned paper
11 by 8 inches

No great revelations , nothing terribly profound, but a pause before the busying of a new beginning and the ever present reminder of the passage of sand.  At the moment my sweet old lady pug Viola is suffering from some sort of cough, an appointment scheduled but poor creature needs my attention . 

With that,

Happy New Year


detail “Evergreen”, 2023
Tempus fugit

Closing Chapters


Resurrection of the Father
watercolor on paper

The last of my drawings for my Popol vuh commission have been satisfied.

I should feel a sense of relief but in truth I feel a sense of disappointment, of hopes once bright , now dimmed a bit. I am not sure where this project, one in which I have invested so much energy into , will go. Perhaps its just the creativity bubble bursting a bit.

What I had understood to be a project slated for publication after I had completed my commission  now seems in limbo. The publisher suggested by the poet  I found to be lacking in creativity and vision  with no apparent back up option-given the publisher was a pay-to-play  publisher was disappointing as well.

But that seems to be the reality. I am now in the position of needing to find a publisher , to pay or to not, willing to publish this heavily illustrated tome. To be honest I feel sick to my stomach but I have put so much into these drawings to just allow them to be stashed away into a folio seems too great a defeat. I also feel ill-equipped and inadequate to the task

So I will begin researching , I dislike feeling  a bit alone in this but from recent exchanges I fear the poet and I now have different intentions for the project. My initial understanding of the collaboration was a shared enthusiasm for Blake, inspiring a  universalist, humanistic approach to this distinctly Maya creation myth, an uplifting  celebration in the Jos. Campbell “Hero with a Thousand Faces” vein. It now seemingly more activist, too anti-Western Christendom in approach than I’d prefer.




There is profound relief in at last being free of the Xibalban Underworld, C.S.Lewis, in describing the creation of his Screwtape Letters  dwelt upon the  difficulty of being immersed in such darkness. The last year or so of trickster demons, their wanton cruelty, the viciousness of unwholesome, perverse gods and the relentless bloody sacrifices has had a similar darkening upon my soul. I’m eager to emerge into the light.


That said, the  following are the images for the tacked on poems to our Popol vuh.

Poem Images:

Scepter 1967
Mi Finca
The Owls Return to Xibalba
The Jungle Path to Xibalba
All Their Lord’s Hearts
(terrible photograph)
Epilogue, the Daykeeper’s Sermon, Circa 1520
(perhaps my favorite drawing)

Chapter headers, the theme being puppetry and nursery amusements:

Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
(my favorite of the chapter headers )

I am going to take some time away from thinking about this project, but not so much that I can wish it away. Just an opportunity to rekindle inspiration, to aflame motivation. David and I are tentatively planning a trip to Mexico City, with old gods underfoot and new above that just may do the trick.

Resurrection of the Father
watercolor on paper


Back to the Popol vuh Drawing board

Hero Twin marionettes , 2014

There are multiple translations of the Popol vuh, many of them excellent, scholarly works by experts in the field of Mesoamerican art and culture embellished with imagery predictably appropriate to the rich history of the Maya people.  I’ve had the good fortune to meet several of the scholars at Mesoamerican conferences, Mesoamerican and post conquest colonial art  being a personal passion; these have been enriching, informative  and inspiring experiences.
The translation that I have been illustrating the last year or so however is a bird of another (quetzal) feather,  my intention is a  retelling of a well told story through images- my own kind of images, imagined through the cultural prism and personal perspective of the re-telling bard, in this case, myself. My first experience with the Popol vuh was much like my imagined 17th c. Court artisan ,  one of ignorance to the actual originating culture, but sheer, spontaneous delight in the symbolic drama of the tale and expressing this delight in the cultural, visual language at hand- in this case a baroque puppet drama.
In the end the Popol vuh is simply  one heck of a good yarn, akin to the gods of Olympus and Valhalla. I try to express that delight and the accessibility in the stories told within my narrative images.
Of which, more have been added.
My collaborating poet has added more verses since I had last considered the project complete a few months back :

The Xibalba Codex


Initially I admit to being chagrined, for I wanted to move forward with other projects that I have placed on hold. But I love this project deeply and truly, this theme, this inspiration, the Popol vuh has been my companion since 2013 when I first encountered the epic tale in a short animated film  in a Mesoamerican class I had been attending. Immediately I was enchanted by this strangely  familiar story and I  began scribbling furiously in the darkened auditorium, doodling up ideas for fanciful puppet operas and traveling marionette theaters, 17th c. commedia hucksters , not unlike those in Hamlet, entertaining court after ennui weary court.

So to return to this beloved story is an opportunity to at last figure out how best to share my passion for these two heroic ball playing boys, their sainted mother and of course the hellish brood of daemonic pranksters.

Lord One Death marionette

The poet and I need to figure out how best to get this monster of book published , I had naively understood there was a publisher in the wings, it seems that isn’t the case. Self publishing, unless a small press can be secured, appears to be our option. A certain degree of apathy seems to have set in with my collaborator, thus far he seems convinced that there will be little interest in our work and perhaps out-and-out hostility to two non-Maya fellows creating this homage and as artists we’d be best off in just getting the book made and to just move on to our next project.
That is a dispiriting perspective and one I do not share. This is , to me, a special project, one close to my heart, an amazing story, one easily appreciated by Maya and non-Maya alike , a human story, one familiar with its brave heroes, powerful maternal figures, sacrifice, trials and redemptions …and of course the buffoonery of the Xibalban underlords. I’ll have to do some researching how best to get this undertaking out there, I’m ill prepared for this quest, I am unfamiliar with the jargon , with contracts, with preserving rights, with fees and commissions . But the road to Xibalba is made one foot step at a time.
 I will need to reach out to those more acquainted with publishing, should I self-publish, using a platform such as Blurb? I would at least have more control over the aesthetics of the project as the one publisher my poet did contact insisted upon visual control of the cover, examples of which I have seen haven’t met my expectations. I have friends more familiar with this game,  I’ll be reaching out to them, gathering options, opinions, suggestions. I have time, I have taken this long, what matters a few more months . But for now I have more drawings to make, of which, these few are the latest.

Illustration for “Scepter,1967”

Illustration “Mi Finca, 2021”

Illustration “The Owls Return to Xibalba”

Illustration “The Jungle Path to Xibalba”



I will close with a proposal sketch for a solo exhibition from I think 2014. My proposal was a resounding dud, zero interest,  so perhaps my poet is correct. However, all the more reason to put the Xibalba Variety Hour out there!

Proposal sketch , 2014

Fleeing Babylon

on Melrose

Tomorrow the movers arrive, our worldly possessions Chicago bound.

After sixteen years living in Los Angeles ( with a brief stint in San Diego ) I am left with mixed emotions, mostly just eager to get out of Dodge.  LA has never been a good fit, we moved here for David’s career and I have tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to appreciate Southern California . It would be churlish (and predictable ) to gripe about LA’s unsurprising superficiality , increasing squalor and existential decadence … churlish but fun.

Instead I will focus on fond memories, of which the many studios I have been lucky to work (and often live in) I place near the top of that list.

My current studio (now crated) was/is in a mid rise office building I shared with my psychoanalyst husband. Perched 1o stories up it was a peculiar home for an art studio, yet it was close to our apartment, possessed attractive amenities and A/C- not a given in the art studio market, and in scorching  LA most essential.

6404 Wilshire Blvd. suite 1030

Wilshire Blvd.

Wilshire Blvd.

Wilshire Blvd

Wilshire Blvd.

Adios Wilshire Blvd .

Mentioning A/C, my previous studio was the largest , most sprawling and allowed me to expand my scope of my work, my solo show Fairyland wouldn’t have been created if it hadn’t been in this rather dismal factory space in the heart of hot as Hadesville North East LA-without A/C. Grateful for the experience but boy oh boy it was hot.



With Robin Goodfellow and my sweet Chihuahua Speck


At one point I had tried working from our little hillside cottage, the Little Hermitage …little being the operative word and it became apparent rather quickly that I needed actual work space.

Rose, Robin Goodfellow @ the Little Hermitage

Previous to the industrial heat pit I had a smaller yet air-conditioned studio, the former work shop of the fellow responsible for fabrication of the clown costumes of Ronald McDonald …or so my landlady told me. It was a charmingly squalid place.

Colorado Blvd., Eagle Rock

Colorado Blvd.

Colorado Blvd.

The Unholy Trio & Hellmouth
Colorado Blvd., Eagle Rock

Before we purchased our Little Hermitage on LA’s NE side we lived (where we once again live) in what is known as MidWilshire. We rented a sweet little duplex, with a pretty little garden, charming light and quite a crazy Marxist Feminist landlady-all perfectly fine aside from her tyrannical harping. But it had good light!

Carmona Ave.

Carmona Ave.

Carmona Ave & pups

Carmona Ave.

In spite of our crazy landlady that apartment had been most welcome for we had been living in San Diego, which sounds lovely , and is , but we were living in what is known as East County, El Cajon specifically. It truly was Hadesville , and our reason for living there was to tend to David’s Mater- quite the SheDevil.

anyway, I spent quite a bit of time sequestered in one of the bedrooms repurposed as a studio…it had A/C AND good light.

In ElCajon with Miss Viola

Naptime in El Cajon, ever faithful Miss Rose

El Cajon

El Cajon

Moving to El Cajon was made drearier for we left what had been our favorite home up to that point ( our current place in Chicago now vies for that distinction), a work/live loft, on the top floor of Factory Place in LA’s Arts District. It was so well suited to our needs , a joy to call home, well lit and with very good A/C.

It broke my heart to leave. Pardon the plethora of photos.

Factory Place, 2010

Factory Place

Factory Place

Factory Place

Factory Place

Factory Place

Factory Place

Rose @ Factory Place

Speck @ Factory Place

Factory Place

Factory Place

When we moved  to LA sixteen years ago, we purchased, in the midst of a devastating bubble an outrageously overpriced condominium on a very pretty street , Havenhurst Ave., in very pretty West Hollywood. It was a period of great optimism and hope. The condo, though small, overpriced, far outside our budget, seemed a beacon of opportunity. And there was opportunity, David began establishing his career, my decorative arts career was blossoming, friends were made easily…we were married in our condo’s backyard. Yet the recession hit, and it hit hard, we were far too overextended, borrowed time, borrowed money , we lost our proverbial shirts and the condo . I truly thought we were lost, all of my prudent savings squandered. Yet sixteen years later we have rebuilt and now we approach this new chapter, our Chicago chapter. 

Symbolically perhaps  I can locate NO photographs of that sweet little West Hollywood apartment or that period aside from our wedding.

Wilshire Blvd.

So onward, boxes packed, awaiting what the good Lord places on our path. I do have a studio waiting for me in Chicago, I am very eager to see what develops.

Cornelia Arts Building


Wish me luck!

on Melrose



Studio Sale Offerings

The following images are of available art that I have discounted for my upcoming studio sale; generally about half of the regular studio price-some even  more deeply discounted due to storage and shipping concerns.

My moving sale will be Saturday July 16th, I would love to see folks in person. If you cannot make it certainly reach out to me (cell 310-498-0817) and we can make arrangements . Payment plans considered, my aim is finding new collectors and  good homes for my work. Reach out should you have any questions. Sorry to say , pick up only, I am not available to offer shipping right now.

With that in mind, thanks for considering my work.

The Temptation of Saint Anthony of the Desert
oil on canvas
36 by 48 inches

This is my first of many Temptations, Anthony is a self portrait. Originally listed at  $3500.00 now available at $2150.00 (unless my husband asks me to keep it ).

The Apotheosis of Sophia
Oil on panel
24 by 18

Originally listed at $2100.00, now $1250.00 SOLD

The Presentation at the Temple
oil on canvas
40 by 30 inches

Originally listed at $1600.00, now $450.00

The Resurrection of the Father (watercolor)
watercolor on paper, framed, under glass
18 by 24 inches, unframed dimensions

One of the earliest Popol Vuh works, originally listed at $2400.00, now $800.00, handsomely matted and framed.

Watercolor on paper
18 by 24 inches, unframed dimensions

Icarus is handsomely matted and framed, was $1800.00, now $400.00/SOLD

Resurrection of the Father (oil)
oil on canvas
40 by 50 inches

Large, striking canvas of the Hero Twins,originally  $3200.00, now sharply reduced for swift sale $500.00

Castration of Uranus
Watercolor and graphite on paper
11 by 14, unframed dimensions; matted and framed

Definitely NSF , also nicely matted and framed (I keep framers busy), was $1800.00, now $500.00/SOLD

Patroclus Fallen
2013 or so
Pencil on paper
23 by 29 matted and framed

Again, handsome presentation suitable to a Homeric hero, matted and framed, was $1100.00, now $350.00/SOLD

The Anointing
acrylic on paper
20 by 28 inches


My Hero Twins are also nicely matted and framed and attractively priced, originally $1600.00, now available for collecting $750.00/SOLD

Herakles & Telephos
watercolor and graphite on paper
12 by 9 inches, the unframed dimensions

I really like the framing and matting on this work, a playful pink matting adds  just the right over the top touch for a mighty macho fellow. Was $1600.00, now $800.00

Jumping Tlaloc
2015 or so
acrylic painted cardboard, brads, twine.
The size of a small man

Of a series of oversized jumping paper dolls, pull his string, he does a little jig. He is a little shop worn (he is cardboard, his right hand slightly wrinkled). He was $500.00, now $150.00

acrylic on canvas
20 by 16 inches

Lavinia and Second Apparition below were part of a series depicting favorite scenes from Shakespeare’s dramas (Titus Andronicus and Macbeth).

Lavinia was $800.00, now $400.00

The Second Apparition (of Macbeth)
acrylic on canvas
20 by 16 inches

This scene from Macbeth priced as above, was $800.00, now $400.00

oil on canvas
36 by 24 inches

One of my early Mesoamerican themed paintings, Coatlicue the mother of the war god Huitzilopotchtli, frequently  compared to the Virgin Mary of the Aztec pantheon. Originally  inspired by a dream, initially listed at $1600.00, now $450.00 SOLD 

The Great War God Huitzilopochtli
oil on canvas
12 by 8 inches

Speaking of the Great War God Huitzilopochtli. this small but mighty painting is a fitting companion to the fiery Madonna and Child above. Was $900.00, now listed at $450.00 SOLD

Strange Fruit (Popol vuh series)
2013 or so
oil on canvas
30 by 20 inches

Early work exploring the mysteries of the Popol Vuh, was $1600.00, now $400.00/SOLD

The First Popol Vuh
mixed media
24 by 36 inches

The very first of what would be many Popol Vuh works, of Hero Twins, Death Gods, Xibalba the Maya Underworld, martyred Maize Gods, this a theatrical mixed media spectacle . Never before listed let alone shown, lets say $400.00

date unknown
oil study on cardboard
24 by 18 inches

I have quite a few studies and daubs such as Philoctotes above, most priced at $75.00 or so. I also have quite a few drawings and studies for browsing and most likely  gifting.

I hope to see you there, again, the date is Saturday, July 16th, 2022, between 11 am and 3 pm at my studio, 6404 Wilshire Blvd., suite 1030 (not far west from LACMA). The building is locked most of Saturday so give me a ring at 310-498-0817 and I can let you in. I can let you in for parking as well.





Art Mates

I’ve been making art, studio art, after a twenty year career as a decorative painter since about 2015. I started off with much optimism and I’d say hubris as well. I’d had a relatively successful career as a painter of ornamental schemes and I figured if I put in the work , was as, if not more industrious as I had been with commercial work I’d receive some degree of recognition. It seemed a logical conclusion, very American really, hard work equates success.

That optimistic model doesn’t really apply to a studio career , at least in Los Angeles, I’m pretty certain that is the reality near everywhere. So much seems to influence the move from obscurity to recognition, cynically it does seem to be who you know, who recognizes you and to some degree the work itself , personality seems to have a great deal of social capital as well  but fundamentally the influence a person has more broadly (how many followers etc.) can propel a career to an astonishing (disheartening) degree. Add to that mix the relatively recent priority given to identity driven art ; the impetus/demand to throw in the correct hashtag, the most desirable identity driven victimhood intersection, proclaim your work  queer, non-binary, trans or some such woke jingo and let the clicking begin…or not.

I’ve tried the hash tagging; the sycophancy; the countless, costly exhibition submissions (with ever increasing rejection notices); the social media attention seeking; the snake-oil publicist route; the humiliating schmoozing; the mortification of fawning over gallery owners, museum directors , art critics; even sucking up to artists with more successful careers, all with the hope that a crumb or two might fall my way. Large sums of  money have been spent (squandered) on false hopes and empty promises – those claiming to have the secret of success and recognition and are all too eager to exploit that desperation and  lighten your purse in the bargain.  In my experience most haven’t the wherewithal to actually fulfill their promises-in all reality  how could they? 

As I depart LosAngeles, I do so with a sad degree of bitterness, disappointment, and increasingly a sense of humiliation – I feel as if I leave with tail firmly between my legs. , I wish that weren’t so. I wish I could say that though disappointing the experience had been  humbling but rewarding . It has however been revelatory in a discouraging way, an inclination towards inwardness.  Increasingly I am driven to a resignation of solitude. I will continue to make art, most likely smaller works for my new studio is even smaller than my LA studio, focusing on true loves:drawing, stitchery, panel painting in oil, taking up perhaps relief printmaking. But I am recognizing, reconciling, that I must set aside expectation of the work having broader  meaning other than personal…and hopefully to a handful of folks.

Of those folks,  I count my chum Jodi, another artist, an artist who’s work we collect, who puzzlingly ,also works in relative obscurity.

Jodi , center, with the family portrait he painted for us.

We love this beautiful person, of such a gentle, generous, forgiving spirit, one who inspires my better nature . Plus she is a quite the artist, we are fortunate to have quite a few of her pieces in our collection, the latest addition Polyphony from her new Bird series. It will be a fitting and most welcome addition to our Chicago home.

Jodi Bonassi

To see more of Jodi’s work follow the link below.

Jodi and work


Because I do have so many reminders of Jodi’s talent and spirit in my life I hoped to gift her with my own. Gifting art is a tricky issue. I’ve given art to friends before  and humiliatingly they’ve returned it!, that was obviously awkward . It is undeniably  presumptuous to assume that though one may be friends that they’d  necessarily  want pieces of your work taking up valuable space in their home, but nonetheless , Jodi and I share a respect for the craft of art making , animals, the land and its conservation  and a  general sense of being odd ducks so I took the chance.

I had a few pieces that I felt might symbolize that bond, a textile piece The Green Knight (or The Wodewose) and a drawing Rape of Our Mother.

The Green Knight
Mixed textile media

The Rape of Our Mother (or The Rape of Gaia)
pencil on paper
24 by 36 inches

I hadn’t expected Jodi’s squeal when I handed her The Green Knight. Let’s say it was more gratifying than the above mentioned gift return.

Though I am not sure where she will hang the rather cumbersome framed drawing, I do know where my Green Knight reigneth.

The Green Knight at the Round Table

So I leave Los Angeles trying to maintain a sense of perspective, naturally prone to a gloomy outcast, I am heartened. By just posting these fond memories  gratitude is triggered for the Anam Cara, the soul-friends, the Lord has placed upon my path. Of which, quite lately, I’ve been blessed to meet a new art chum , a talented writer, wit (she is British after all ), incredibly bright and irreverent , she goes by a few names, I call her Saria, however her nom de plume is Scam Likely. She has become a fast friend and one I will also miss a great deal. She popped over for a studio visit recently  and I dubbed her with this scepter, she struck a worthy Valkyrie pose.


I heartily recommend her latest book, its quite funny :


In closing I will explain the first image of this long winded post, an early painting initially called Naked Emperor  (I have recently decided upon Los Angeles). Early on in my enthusiasm for a life as a studio painter I had work accepted into a group show-at a museum! I was thrilled, this is so easy I told myself, full of vim, vigor and self importance I attended the opening, certain, cringe worthily certain, that my work, certainly brilliant, would get the attention and respect it deserves. Well suffice to say, it didn’t (it also wasn’t very good ). What did however elicit all manner of oohs and aaahs was a really ridiculous , pretty formulaic bit of installation work, a rusty  boxspring, wired with old-timey bare light bulbs and, wait for it, suspended from the ceiling. It was as cringeworthy in its bombast as my own self expectant hubris. But the attendees of the awards program were besides themselves in admiration for its brilliance. I felt alone in my incredulity and of course the Emperor and his new clothes came to mind. Next morning I picked up brushes, new to oil, this was one of my first clumsy experiments with my now medium of choice.

(afterthought, the following image of Punch was the above mentioned, not so very good work)

Mixed media
approx 40 by 30?

Jodi admired my Emperor and its sentiment so I gifted him as well.

Los Angeles &/or The Naked Emperor 2015