daily painting | seattle sunflower

Drip management. That may sound like a description of online dating, but it’s about my roof. I’ve had four contractors up there over the past two years smearing sealant around but still I need to line up the bowls and buckets on my living room floor. Fingers crossed the seemingly competent roofer that came last week to inspect and offer advice will arrive to finally and literally seal the deal. And soon.

This kind of stuff can really freak me out — my home! It’s violated! I do enjoy that lovely chorus of raindrops on my roof, even if accented by the splashes of the leaks plopping into the bowls. I strategically line up the puppy pee pads on the floor in case the drips migrate and miss the bowls (terrifically absorbent; I use them for the bottom of my guinea pig cage).

But now that I’m a relic of “mid-century” (born in the 1950s), I’ve learned a few things. Like how life always has challenges and problems to figure out. And how to adapt and fix things and relax; a solution will sooner or later present itself. Might as well keep going and enjoy life’s amazingness.

Like a good book! I’ve decided that since I’ve never read them, I’m going to read the Harry Potter series; now’s a good time as my brain operates at about the level of a third-grader. And they’re terrific. Good to read about magic and wizardry and owls that deliver the mail. A lovely relief from grief and death. I tell ya, I’m learning a few things.

Happy New Year.

[painting from photo of sunflowers taken in October in my sister’s neighborhood in Seattle]

10″ x 10″ ink, watercolor, pencil, acrylic on paper

 

 

 

daily painting | tiny blooms

I am still sorting through photos taken last November when I stayed with my sister during her last weeks on the planet. I enjoyed walking through the damp neighborhoods, snapping pics, hoping to paint certain scenes. These small white blossoms were lovely and prolific and beautiful. Was taken aback — gorgeous blooming front yards right there in chilly, wintry Seattle! I started this small painting yesterday after returning from doing volunteer work in the Marin Headlands which takes the better part of a day. After cleaning myself up I wanted to get my paints out and do a small work. The very act of taking a wet paintbrush, loaded with Daniel Smith watercolor pigments, and splashing it over a chunk of clean white paper soothes and focuses me.

I had sort of a light bulb moment the other day — these days of grief and recovery and healing are necessary, however wrenching. Remember a million years ago when forest fires were often a good thing, before terrible outer space villains started focusing laser beams on California in order to destroy the state (wish I just made that up)? When flames burned off the undergrowth, without harming the trees, making the whole ecosystem healthier and happier? Well I sort of feel like that. Times like these are painful, and even feel dangerous at times, but crap gets burnt off I don’t need. Detritus goes up in smoke. I am seared into a better version of myself. Trust in myself deepens. Wish it wasn’t so damn uncomfortable, but I think it’s all good. I do keep my fire extinguisher nearby though. Must mind the embers. Or find some asbestos socks.

6″ x 6″ watercolor, pen, acrylic ink on paper = $45

 

 

 

daily painting | blue berries

OK this is going to feel a little weird. Here goes.

During my almost 3-week stay in Washington, most of that time with my sister in Seattle who was dying of cancer, it was so interesting to walk through her neighborhood (Fremont) and see various front yards. I’ve never before seen anything like this bush which had neon-pink flowers with blue berries at the center. Like the berries had turned into some kind of magenta fireworks. They were gaudy, even — colors looked cartoonish. But they were so cheery to see during my chilly November strolls.

What is strange as I post this is it will be the first time Kay won’t be reading it. She enjoyed reading my blogs every day, which meant I had to be sensitive in how I wrote them, if I mentioned her. She passed away two days ago, Sunday morning after a battle with breast cancer that lasted on and off for 21 years. She was mostly healthy and cancer free after that first diagnosis and the subsequent and innovative treatments (a cancer clinic in Seattle was set up based on things medical professionals learned from her regimens), and she was grateful for that bonus time, for the initial diagnosis was quite dire. But she beat it. For awhile.

Kay was never bedridden but the pain was increasing and the nights were getting pretty rough. Just a few days before she passed we had a long walk through Seattle and her stamina exceeded mine. She was really something.

Goodbye, Kay. You and I had a difficult relationship at times, yet we loved each other very much. And it was an honor to be with you in your final days. I am so happy you are no longer being painfully savaged by that awful disease and are now at peace.

6″ x 6″ watercolor, pen, acrylic ink on paper

 

 

 

 

daily painting | second-hand boat

Near the beach at Fort Worden, a state park in Port Townsend, WA, a small boat rested in the dunes, relieved of duty (a retired lifeboat, perhaps? curious that it has chains at both ends — maybe it brought shipwrecked fishermen to safety). It completely charmed me. One of the reasons I loved this sandy scenario is because I was visiting my dear friend Claire who lives in that part of the gorgeous NW and together we roamed the beach there a couple of times; one day was sunny and bright and we identified Mergansers (cute diving ducks with punk hairdos), marveled at the soothing sound of beach waves washing over pebbles and collected shoreline stones smoothed by the swells of the Strait of San Juan de Fuca (ha! accidental alliteration!). Another day we set out to collect bits of driftwood and it was so windy it took both my hands to open the car door. I really love the wildness of this watery corner of the US, with its fierce storms, soaring bald eagles, brilliant night stars and island-hopping ferries. My precious times with Claire those few days will long be cherished and tended to in my memory banks.

But I’m not super crazy about this painting, so I’ll likely do another one once I’m home. Getting low on watercolor sketchpads here in my sister’s digs in Seattle and I am soon heading back to California, saying goodbye to my sister who got the short end of the breast cancer stick. She’s well-cared for here and deeply loved and her husband, daughter, caring friends and hospice team will look after her with empathy and tenderness. Which gives me peace as I head back to my Alameda life. [There were no authentic, accurate expressions of loss and sadness I could conjure up today. So I got out my paints.]

7″ x 10″ watercolor, pen on paper

 

 

 

daily painting | kay and camera

My sister Kay here in Seattle is finishing up her memoirs as she gets ready to leave the planet. She asked me to create some artwork for the cover of her book, and gave me a black & white shot taken of her with her camera, circa mid-1970s, to use as reference. I’m honored to have my painting on the cover of her life story, and I’m fond of this image of her looking through her viewfinder, as her life has been lived with curiosity and hunger for knowledge and beauty. I love you, Kay.

10″ x 7″ watercolor, pen on paper

 

 

 

daily painting | lenka’s rose

I have a very sweet friend and her name is Lenka. Originally from Prague, Lenka is a kind, giving and supportive person. Before I headed up to Seattle a few weeks ago to be with my ailing sister, she came over and brought me this gorgeous rose from her garden. It bolstered my heart and charmed and warmed me. I’m not super crazy about this painting, but it cheered me to paint from the photo I took before I headed up to this chilly and wet and gorgeous part of the world that is Washington state. Time with family and time with dear friends. A sad, rich, love-filled, heart-wrenching, vital, sorrowful time.

10″ x 7″ watercolor, pen on paper

 

 

 

daily painting | fremont fuchsias

I am feeling celebratory for the first time in what feels like decades this Saturday morning. Here in Seattle, walks through this charming Fremont neighborhood are very pleasant, and I’ll take another stroll today just to feel the air (or maybe rain) on my face and bask in gratitude. America feels great again.

Anyways, on a walk yesterday I spotted these lovely fuchsias in a neighbor’s front garden. Took me back to my Mill Valley childhood when my little sister (in whose house I am now a guest) and I would pop the pink bulbs with our chubby child-fingers before they opened. These vibrant pinks looked amazing against the leafy greenness of that yard and the beautiful, dark stone wall, lined up like ballerinas.

I’ve got my paint kit here (obviously) in my sister’s house in these luxurious surroundings she set up for me — she is an expert at Thai massage, and part of her house is set up as a spa complete with big roomy areas and a sauna and an exquisite shower; a massage table works perfectly for my laptop. Because she is retired, I am very comfy and have tons of privacy in the spa/guest bedroom. Painting in this climate can be a challenge as the dampness means it takes forever for paint to dry. I’ve discovered here on the counter a perfect solution — a towel warmer! Tuck the watercolor sketchpad in, and it safely dries the paint (don’t tell Kay). So far I haven’t ruined any furniture with my paint spatters. Talk about purple rain!

10″ x 7″ watercolor, pen on paper + $90