acrylic abstract painting by emily weil

daily painting | paper trail

I almost titled this piece Sand Worms after seeing Dune 2 last week but it was too specific (not to give anything away but watching Elvis combat Willy Wonka was fabulous). I created this on Easter Sunday, a lonely day for me, but also satisfying as being in my studio felt perfect and restorative. I listened to a mix of Beyonce and Bonnie Raitt and Judy Collins. I sat in my chair and had a dialog with the work-in-progress, asking the painting what it wanted next. I was in my own private paint world which was where I needed most to be, and I gave thanks for resurrection and healing and new hope — I wasn’t feeling it, but I appreciated the concept. It’s important to hope even when it isn’t reasonable to do so.

Happy Zombie Jesus day, everyone.

23″ x 18″ acrylic, oil pastel, paper collage on stretched canvas = $675

 

 

 

watercolor and ink painting of flowers by emily weil

daily painting | workshop bouquet

Last Saturday I taught a watercolor workshop and did several demos, referring to a lovely bouquet of posies I pinched from a few Alameda office building landscapes. It’s a delight to teach a painting class to students who are so open and willing and hard-working. Though I felt sadness from missing grandkids on Easter, coming home to my warm floating home community after class filled up my achey heart — especially when, as I was literally roaming online searching for local bakeries to find a gluten-free treat, a neighbor dropped by to bring me some delicious macaroon-like gluten-free cookies that she knew I loved. Brought tears to my eyes — the timing was remarkable. What welcome medicine that was (I gobbled up the last of them this morning).

Sunday came with an Easter visit from my son. I made us some brunch and we visited and I learned more about his bipolar challenges as he openly shared his thoughts with me. How I wish I could wave a magic Mother-wand and fix his brain, as I could feel his concerns (and he never, ever complains). Lovely moments together with my grown boy and I am happy he was willing to drive from Sacramento for time with his mom. All the bits of my heart and soul and mind are sloshing with thankfulness.

10″ x 7″ ink, watercolor on paper

 

 

 

watercolor painting of santa barbara courthouse by emily weil

daily painting | santa barbara courthouse

Today is Good Friday. In the Christian tradition, it is the day Jesus was crucified, with Easter being the celebration of the miraculous resurrection. Though I no longer practice these beliefs, I am always heartened by the promising and hopeful message of new life emerging after death. Because I’m kinda tired of death. The daffodils and happy faces of the ice plant flowers blooming in my marina cheer me — every year they pop out, and they don’t care of news of war or pandemics or family strife. They just happily do what they do; I also so love the row of calla lilies blooming in Fort Cronkhite in the Marin Headlands. Here in Alameda we don’t have snowy winters, but still the blooms in Spring boost our hearts. 

And I am sad today not to be with family for Easter, but there are unresolved difficulties still keeping folks apart. Families! Always somethin’. But I believe in love and hope and resolutions and resurrections and reunions. I do a morning meditation every day, where I calm myself and ask Great Spirit to walk with me. Today I visualized my two sisters who have recently left this earth hugging me, happy we are together. Every day I am grateful they are no longer in pain. I think they watch over me, helping me find my way.

About this painting — done at the watercolor workshop in Santa Barbara last week. And hey, I just heard a blurb on the news that today is the 75th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking baseball’s color barrier which is amazing and wonderful — and his widow Rachel, now 99, continues to work to fight racism. Doesn’t that just make your heart light up? Happy Easter and Passover and Ramadan, everyone.

6″ x 9″ ink, watercolor on paper

 

 

 

watercolor of lilies by emily weil

daily painting | barnhill lilies

As I journey on in this remarkable time of loss, I am encouraged and heartened not just by the loving support I have in my life but by what I am learning about myself: the old stumps I drag behind of family suffering, the incredible power to heal and say farewell to encumbrances and embrace new goals. Sometimes my head buzzes with fireworks — both illuminating and dangerous. Here I am, in the december years of my life (maybe just late autumn?) and yet here are new ideas, previously unconsidered possibilities and lessons of faith and trust. How grateful I am to be alive, and I’m going to co-opt a quote I heard from Norman Lear who described his family as having “lived at the top of its lungs and the ends of its nerves.” An excellent way of being in the world. I aspire to it.

Here’s this week’s adventure story -— after a particularly meaningful and healing session with my counselor who is a combo of skilled therapist, spiritual director and gifted healer, I headed up to the Oakland hills for my fave trail through the redwoods to absorb the powerful work of that afternoon. As I parked in the lot by the Joaquin Miller Park visitor center, avoiding street parking as they warn of break-ins, I heard red-shouldered hawks calling and saw red tail hawks circling above. The groves of trees embraced me as always (and I hugged them back); they comfort and soothe. Back to my car, I started it up and it made the worst racket! Like my muffler had fallen off. Not knowing exactly what to do (my mechanic had already gone home for the evening) I decided to limp home to Alameda, coasting downhill most of the way, glad for the electric engine that kicked in, avoiding freeways and laughing as I bombed through the Fruitvale district, attracting attention from the clamor of my engine. White-haired old lady in her hobbled Prius. Made it home (whew!), thankful for my safe arrival. A generous neighbor looked at my noisy vehicle and pronounced, “Your catalytic converter was stolen.” It’s in the shop now, getting repaired and is covered by insurance. Should be good to go, as my mechanic assures me she’s got quite a few miles left in her.

I also want to share this poem; couldn’t believe it arrived in my inbox, so perfect: 

YOU WHO LET YOURSELVES FEEL by Rainer Maria Rilke

You who let yourselves feel: enter the breathing

that is more than your own.

Let it brush your cheeks

as it divides and rejoins behind you.

Blessed ones, whole ones,

you where the heart begins:

You are the bow that shoots the arrows

and you are the target.

Fear not the pain. Let its weight fall back

into the earth;

for heavy are the mountains, heavy the seas.

The trees you planted in childhood have grown

too heavy. You cannot bring them along.

Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.
____

This painting: one of the owners of my marina has a fabulous garden (on land) and I took a number of photos of her lilies which, thanks to my Christian background, always make me think of Easter and new life.

10″ x 10″ watercolor, pen on paper = $130