Yesterday during our artists’ gathering of Brushes by the Bay I took small watercolor pages and laid them out on the table and worked on them simultaneously. Then the tears came. Mental illness is a scourge in my family; always has been. I’ve lost an aunt and a sister to suicide, and the suffering continues; mental illness doesn’t run in my family, it gallops. And I can’t fix it and people I love hurt.

So. Art. Getting out my paints, pencils, watercolor crayons and bottles of ink is like going into a safe room where inhibitions fly away and I can emote and play with color. It’s cathartic and healing. I can let go of worries and heartache at least for the afternoon.

This painting started as a sheet of yellow/ochre paint. As it dried in the sun, a leaf floated down and landed on it, so I kept it on the paper and painted over it. Then I did it again and it didn’t work, but the heart shape happened. The magic of watercolors thrills me.

I may be posting a bit less in the coming weeks as I start working on a series of large abstracts. Thank you for reading my ramblings. I appreciate it more than you know.

6″ x 6″ watercolor on paper = $50