I had written up thoughts on parenting, set to post with a small abstract I was working on, but the painting turned out to be shite. So then I started this one, and it worked out better (I’m practicing moving slowly in a painting, which isn’t my style but a good exercise). I will likely blab about being a mom in a future post, but for today I want to express how I am learning (and relearning) to interrupt a dark descent down the rathole. Today I felt the suck of depression and grief pulling on my ankles, so I forced myself (really, I was not in the mood) to go to a nearby park and walk. It was a wonderful tonic. Such a simple thing. I’m becoming quite fond of Shoreline Park in Oakland, where the estuary merges into San Francisco bay; the park is surrounded by dramatically gigantic container ships and cranes. Big and sprawling, with tons of room and extended walking paths and few humans. Thanks to my wonderful new walking sticks, I can walk longer distances without back pain, so I just kept going, taking in SF skyline and Bay Bridge views, watching seagulls drop shellfish on the concrete surfaces to break the shells (they do that on my roof too, which always cracks me up). Wintering ducks were diving in the small cove there, bug-eating phoebes snatched insects out of the air, families hung out on a pier with fishing poles. Beautiful gentle breezes swirled, and finally a spectacular sunset showed itself off behind the city skyline. While the sun set, hundreds of starlings flew around in flocks, settling into rows of palm trees for the night. Lots of chattering and squawking and rustling as they slipped into the dried palm fronds at the top of the tall trunks. A real treat for the senses, and I gratefully took it all in, glad I got my behind out of the house, breaking the dark spell.
9″ x 12″ watercolor, ink, pastel, acrylic, pencil on paper = $140