Monday, December 29, 2008

Rose Swirl Pieta

Here's the "email sketch" I sent today to my dear client. I'll be making a 5 x 3 foot horizontal painting for her. She liked The Prayer and asked for a piece along those lines.

Reference image 1: The Pieta by Michelangelo:
Reference Image 2: Art Nouveau Poppies: Reference Image 3: Leis: In the same way that "The Prayer" is tight in the woman's face- somewhat clear- that's what I'm feeling for Mary, and possibly, Jesus' face. They wouldn't be marble-looking- they'd be flesh and blood flecked with gold. Mary and Jesus would be in the middle of the canvas, and rather than painting too much of their bodies, what I see occurring is an emanation of flowers (similar to how the leis have all kind of different colors and types of flowers chained together) from their faces and hearts that go in and out of clarity- some of them would clearly be roses, say, but then still others could even be a gem or a star- hopefully that would almost be confusing as they merge in and out of realism and abstraction. There'd be other symbols in the mix as well.

* On a side note, last night I was dreaming of this image, and I saw that fellow ask Michelangelo why Mary was so young? Michelangelo's reported to have said, "Haven't you noticed that virgins don't age?" But I saw an old fellow giggling and slapping him on the back saying, "Ha! That's cause Mary ain't his Momma! a ha ha!"
I really love Michelangelo's Pieta. I think it's some of the best art we've had in the last 1000 years. And it just goes to show that the best way to hide something is out in the open like what he did here with Mary and Jesus carved the same age. The lesson I tell myself in that regard is- speak honestly, as clear as you are able. And don't fret about speaking your truth- if it's really true- not to worry- no one will believe you!

Friday, December 26, 2008

Hartford Courant Sunday Cover

The Hartford Courant put my Jackie and the Jewel Mine painting on their Sunday insert cover this past weekend. Here's the online article- to view please click this link.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When, with the ever-circling years,
Shall come the Age of Gold;
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And all the world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
Edmund Hamilton Sears

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Flip- Switch

Well, I have some things to say.

Something has changed in my art approach because of a new feeling recently, and the best way I figure to be on the same page together is to relay to you my last few days.

 I had planned to do an exhibit of "The Golden Thread", which is still true, and base it heavily off of heros, saints, and demi-gods that I am familiar with (which is no longer true). I realized that this would mean that I'd be basing most of my painted portraits on "saints" in the Church. About 5 days ago I had a vision of St Theresa shooting up with heroin. I thought, "Huh. That's... weird." The image persisted. Saint Theresa of Avila, on her knees in full habit, wrapping a band around her arm to get a vein.

I google image searched "heroin use" to see what I would learn- I was actually thinking, "Well, I guess I'm painting her like this. What's heroin look like?" I saw pictures of people before and during their heroin addiction. After a person has become an addict their face turns into that of a ghoul. I don't want to post any pictures here because I think they emit a negative vibe- and by negative vibe I mean a vacuous one- their pale faces and black gaping mouths make them look hungry for anything they can get. The people themselves are taken over by the predatory nature of the opiate, I suppose. 

"Religion is the opiate of the masses." -Karl Marx

During this time a friend of mine gave me a book that she said would be very helpful for my research and upcoming paintings- a history of Christianity through the approach of famous Christians. I was so excited! A book! I haven't read any books in a while. So I curled up on the comfy chair and read the back cover. It said it would cover 33 religious figures. And knowing that I'd planned to paint 33 canvases I though to myself, "Oh my gosh. This is so meant to be." So I open up to St Augustine's chapter, namesake of my hometown and its cathedral. And in his own words I read.... of the foolish and self-inflated desert Gnostics (some people I really admire.) I read a few other choice things he had to say about the sovereignty of the Church. I crinkled my nose and said out-loud,  "Wait a're.... you're an asshole!" I read a couple other entries from other saints, and by that time I had just about made myself sick. All they wanted to talk about was how great it was to die and suffer. Blech. I went to bed.

The next morning I woke up and said to myself, "Ooph. Don't open that book again. It's a guilt- creating device." Later that same day I read something by Michael Brown. And then I read something else by Barbara Hand Clow. And something... happened. First, I knew I had to trash the show plans I'd made so far. I asked myself, "What in the world was I thinking? Making plans like that? Starting with the most dense thing possible- the physical structures of it- the lay of the paintings- mentally learning about the people- and then hoping to fill it with the ethereal?" That was just... kind of stupid of me. It goes the other way around! 

It was soon after I realized that that this new feeling came. And in order to communicate it I'm going to tell you part of my story. Since I was so tiny I've been drawing ladies. Pretty ladies, young ladies, old ladies, homeless ladies, religious ladies, royal ladies, groups of ladies.... I've always been kind of surprised that no one has said to me directly, "I've seen your drawings and I can clearly see that you've got issues. Major issues." In my paintings you can see that women are my subject- that's who I see in my minds eye- they're the vehicle for my visual language. But it's also more than that. I've been trying to bring her back. One in particular. She's like the entire Garden of Eden within herself, and she is from somewhere else. She can take any form she likes but let me describe her so you can maybe see her too- She's like a tall queen, but queen is the wrong word because she doesn't rule, she adores. She's clothed in a garden that is fabric yet alive at the same time- it sparkles like the cosmos and moves with the wind as it makes the wind, and it sings like the birds and birds, when they wish or when she wishes, will fly out of the folds of her dress tweeting. From her hair and through her hands is a sparkling chain of jewels with rubies and emeralds and diamonds and jewels we've never seen before. At times we have gone places together, but this time she isn't here. At one time we used to make different colors together. Often through my life I have asked, "Why did you leave me?" and begged her to come back or tell me something. As far as I know she is entirely gone from me except in the most heightened trance.

So my art, as best I can describe, has been me trying to make a picture of her, a feeling of her. To have her around in my everyday. I have been scribbling away at pieces of paper on the ground. Scribbling madly- she was like this- no she's like this- wait I think I remember- no that's not right either- what did her hair look like?- Oh no! I'm forgetting everything about her! I cannot overemphasize the depth of my grief over her absence. Back to that feeling I'm trying to illustrate. So I am scribbling away. And I hear a "Psst." "Not now," I said to the sound with my head to the ground, "I'm working on a picture." Again, "Psst." So I looked up. And There. She. Is. It feels like a white sparkling explosion of silence inside my chest. I stared at her. For hours. Inexplicable. The only true thing. Later I whispered so quiet, "I thought you were gone," with tears all down my face. I couldn't sleep that night, everything was so different. 

For so long I just thought I made her up. But she exists!

It's difficult for me to relay this most momentous occasion in my internal life, but I think the gist of it, from an artistic sense, is that I won't be making plans for this coming year in terms of what I paint- please pardon all of what I wrote except for the date- and I will paint with what comes. I mean, I don't have to find her anymore- she's here! That totally changes what I'm doing. 

Friday, December 19, 2008

The Golden Thread Show Plans

The night that the show opens will be the same night that it closes. Of the 33 paintings:
11 will be sold, 11 given away, and 11 burned at midnight.

Monday, December 15, 2008

with Flowers

Why are we so harsh with the full flowers?

We tip toe around the young bush-
"careful with those roots"
oh look a bud!
manage it with care
speak in whispers-
are you alright, little one? We are here!

But what unkindness settles in as the bloom unfurls!
Flower! You should know better!
There is a notch in one of your petals!
You have let a worm eat your leaves!
How will you maintain that color, eh?!

And we look with such a discriminating eye
until the gift has all but faded
a few petals hanging on
and we stare with sad remembrance-


that certainly was-

a precious rose.

Loreena McKennitt

Listening to Loreena McKennitt has been leaving me in tears for years. Here she is Singing The Seven Rejoices of Mary.

Saturday, December 13, 2008


I get a little wary when talking about The Goddess. I hear, "Careful, careful. Know that you don't know."

Medusa. Do you suppose she was supremely elegant? With wild twirling hair? A penetrating glare? Adventurous and somewhat stupid men will climb to the top of a mountain and die there- frozen like stone. Is that the mountain's fault? Once as a hurricane raged I went to stand by the ocean to feel her storming. The wind punished me with sand and the foam flew and the sea churned all white. It said, "If you come in here, you die." 

It's as we were advised when small: When the Lady is speaking, do not interrupt her.

Friday, December 12, 2008

On the Approach

Whenever I try to be someone useful I'm like a small neurotic dog in the kitchen that people trip over. And when I give up on that, I'm like a tweeting bird on the limb.  

"Little sparrows, from where have you come? Where will you go?"
We hadn't thought to ask! We don't really know!
"Doesn't that concern you?"
tweet tweet! no....

Great Works of Fun

Since we're right across the street from each other this winter, my nephews James (on the right) and Michael (left) come over each day to do some drawing together! Here they are: 
Yesterday Michael drew a picture called, "Flying Around Outside with People in It." It was of him and James. As he gave it a look over he said, "Hey! I fow-got to give James arms!" 

They're beautiful.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

More Pictures from the "Her Good Heart" Show

Photos by Heather Cottrell
Instruments of dear John Ananda. He played them as guests entered the room blindfolded. There were also many gongs.
After John played and everyone took off their blindfolds to see the paintings, I sang a song.
Sarah told the story she wrote of a woman in a country of whipping winds. 
Carin and Allison with The Story
Me at the end of the show
Black Bean and Rice Canapes with Sour Cream and Green Onion garnish by Aja, Jon, and Karsten
Indian Spiced Root Vegetables in Baked Wontons with Sunflower Sprout by Aja, Jon, and Karsten
Glen created a Raw Foods Cafe in Connecticut called Catch a Healthy Habit. Here he is sharing a sample of the raw cacao creations he brought to the show. Crazy amazing delicious chocolate! Behind him you can see part of the "Make Your Own Mandala" station Sam Stone created.
Trinity and Heather playing at the Face Paintings Station
Jamie paints at the shared canvas project. 

And hey don't forget: 
There is no other artist like you in this entire world! 

Sunday, December 7, 2008


As I settle in to Beaufort, South Carolina for the winter I'm doing some projects outside of the Golden Thread- like birthday parties, Christmas cards, and a few painting commissions. I'll share these throughout this December. The Golden Thread project will begin in earnest January 2009.

Katie made this cake and I decorated it for James and Michael's 5 and 4 year pirate party:
Here's my niece Aly Grace with Aunt Shani of the High Seas. She liked my beads...
And here's Aly again with her mom and my sister, Kate! Right before she gets into the bath...

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

The Golden Thread

"The Golden Thread"- that's the name of my new collection! I saw it in my mind's eye. A golden DNA strand connecting deities and the great lovers in our species; archetypes, mythical ones, all painted through people alive and pulsing now. It will contain 33 pieces/ 33 humans, 3 feet wide a piece, with 99 feet of connected paintings circled to ensconce us as we walk into the room. The walls black, the background black, with life popping out of the darkness. Shown on November 7, 2009 at ClearPoint. 

This is where I'll be sharing the pieces with you as I paint them. I feel enlivened by this project! I go to sleep dreaming about it-  about canvases and little winks and veils and wiry shining golden strands. Of St Francis and Peter and Joan of Arc and Angel Gabriel and Mary and Pontious Pilate and Ptolemy. I will do a good job!

Friday, November 28, 2008

Next Chapter Update

Late tonight I took off my clothes and walked outside into the freezing cold. The ground is frozen. And it is quiet. I got in the hot tub! I did not know why I felt like I did- my friends were inside and no one seemed comfortable. I thought I had had enough of people and so I went to ask the stars. You know what? I could not hear them. Inside the house the warm lights glowed into my darkness and I caught glimpses of people I love inside. And thought that though the stars are beautiful, my eyes loved the closest ones.

So I thought of you and how it'd be good to say what is going on with this blog that I am keeping. First, The Her Good Heart Show- Roger filmed it. He told me today that he is going to create a little video! This is a very kind thing for him to do! When it is done, I will post it here. So we know that's coming- hurray!

Tomorrow I begin my (visit-filled week-long) drive from Stafford CT to South Carolina. I have a pirate birthday party to arrive in time for! My nephews James and Michael will be turning 5 and 4! My niece Aly Grace is 6months now, and am looking forward to hearing her giggle in person. I will be in Beaufort with my sister Kate and her family, my Mom Karen, and Nana. Dad's in Florida and we'll be doing lots of visiting together too.

So what's next? More painting for me. Wanna keep doing this thing here? I'm enjoying it! I told Angelina this morning that it'd be good for me to do a collaborative show in Beaufort this March and a few minutes later she said, "Great! So what's the date of the show and where is it?" These are good questions! Will keep you posted as this next little adventure emerges. I'll keep putting pictures and stuff up here. (12/10/08 note: I've decided as of now that the only show I'll be doing this year is The Golden Thread- all other musings have been wiped clean.)

When it's time to daydream, come take a midnight walk with me in the snow. We'll be so warm in our hooded fuzzy robes and so bright in our cheeks that the white tigers will come to us with a soft smile and snuggle paws around us with snowflakes falling under Lady Moon beaming our way- she's wearing a quilt tonight with red patches embroidered with golden thread. You're beautiful, did you know?

Monday, November 24, 2008

Get By with a Lotta Help from my Friends

The One Night Show was a collective gift from a lot of people, so I thought I'd introduce you to some of the people who gave it. This summer, Steve and I decided that we would have an art show at ClearPoint with my pieces. Of course, we agreed on all the details.
Jamie came over a week before the event to help me hang all the canvases, which included some major leaning on ladders to get "The Story" up.
When the weekend finally came, on Friday MaryAnne and her daughter Emerald, and her daughter Zahara, came over to help us get the place nice and clean. I got to have Zahara's company while painting the finishing bits on some of the pieces. She's so snuggly!
Sarah came on Friday too (down from Massachusetts) and made at least 10 huge batches of miniature vegan chocolate chip cookies.
On Saturday afternoon Doug, Kasey, Aja, and Trinity arrived. Doug is a professional sound man and brought the soundtrack he'd created for the show, along with speakers and some other equipment. Here he is setting up.
Kasey came in tow with pounds upon pounds of LaraBars, mung bean sprouts, and fortune cookies for guests. Aja is a professional chef, and I think this is the last captured moment in which she is not throwing down in the kitchen. Hu-YAH!
Sam is a sculptor and an art teacher in New Jersey, and he brought his mandala teaching kit with pictures of mandalas from all over the world, and set it up so that our guests could make their own. He and Heather made signs to help guide the night. Heather acted as my agent for the night when it came to handling sales.
My Mom, Karen, measured and cut the 60+ blindfolds that were used for the experience.
Jon came on his birthday weekend! He and Karsten cooked up a storm with Aja to get all the hors d' ouvres ready to serve.
Trinity got the community painting started...
...which after the show now looks like this!:
Roger filmed the entire show! He is also a great source of encouragement and inspiration to me. John came with his incredible collection of Tibetan singing bowls, gongs, and flutes that you can see in the corner of this picture. John played these ancient instruments as a gift to everyone that came.
And while I danced around talking about my paintings my friends smiled at me so nice!
Together we all had a time. Together. That was really good, the together part.
And afterward as things wound down into the night we sat with each other.
And by noon the next morning, we were all up and cooking! (Karsten and Jon, cooking again! And here is my dear friend Carin who drove up from New York to be with us)
well, we were all up, I mean!
And shared a brunch together! Complete with some lemon olive cake birthday cake. Pictured here is Oliver in hat and Sara in the scarf, who read her fantastic poetry during the show. And of course, Steve, who held a magnificent space for the whole she-bang.
I just can't say it enough...
We are all so precious to each other.

More gifts: Angelina M. Hart is the smarts behind the organizing and marketing, and I'll have a picture of her up soon. Roger C Ingraham took a good deal of these photographs, and is a tireless supporter of community and the arts. Jason Gannon brought his lights (inner and outer!) to create an other-worldly environment.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

The Show

Here are the first pictures available from the show! It was a fantastic blessing. Thank you for doing this with me- near or far!

This was our closing wrap-around hug

The Story all lit up (I made it bigger!)

Me during the tour of the paintings.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The Story

Hi Darling,
Thank you for walking with me. The sun is hiding behind the clouds now while the earth takes in the rain. I am going to make like the sun and hide too. I will be back on November 23rd with pictures.


Ever been to a benediction? Where we sit in church with the old ladies and the nuns, and they bring out the body of Christ. It's just a little circle of pressed bread covered in glass, surrounded by a sun of gold with rays coming out of it. We'd stare and say prayers till we couldn't think anymore. It used to be my favorite- would give me this feeling- to look and adore. I want to be that way with you.

This is the part of the story where I tickle otter's belly...
and hummingbird comes out of the Sun to kiss the Earth.

So listen, kiddo, here's what we're gonna do. First we'll run out of the house into the woods when it gets dark and then you come out too. We're gonna leap out at you- someone will pinch your butt- I'm just saying- it's gonna happen- and you'll get stuff in your hair. There might be masks involved. It could get wild. When you're done running around you can come back home. And we'll see you there.
My clothes? Atrocious. Let's strip and laugh at them.

Roger and Jamie came over tonight. Roger talked at us for an hour during our dinner. What did he say? It was like an energetic lobotomy- wanted to slap him and hug him. I closed my eyes and saw my polar bear lunge at me and eat my head. Which made me laugh? We did. Roger maybe will need to put some water on his forehead. Looks like a fireworks problem right there.

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree
A tree who’s hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earths sweet flowing breath
A tree that looks to god all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray
A tree that must in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair
Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain
Poems are made by fools like me
But only god can make a tree


Jerry left a message- he said:

Thought I heard a jug band playin'
"If you don't... who else will?"
From over on the far side of the hill

From the land of the midnight sun
Where the ice blue roses grow
Along those roads of gold and silver snow
Howlin' wide or moaning low
So many roads I know
So many roads to ease my soul


Get your mind out of the gutter and pass the butter!

Today I received this picture of the Catherine Howard painting- she was in last year's collection, The Faces of a Woman. I love how she looks there!

We'll make the best of what's around!
Exciting news for today! Ready?.....
I'm painting a polar bear!!!

When I get to a spot like this- where I'm scratching my head and making faces at the canvas, I think up Degas and he taps me on the shoulder to say, “Only when she no longer knows what she is doing does the painter do good things." And so then I say to myself, "I must be doing good things right now!"

We were staring at the moon tonight and I wondered, "How do the clouds know to part as they cross the moon?" But then I realized the clouds were still there. The moon just shone through them! I don't have any new painting to share from this weekend. The show is twelve days away.
Not long ago we went into the woods to look at the trees, and on our way in we crossed paths with a coyote. He was careful, but he wasn't scared. He looked with those eyes. And he turned his body a little bit towards us. There was a wide raw wound on his hind quarters. Maybe he was in a fight? He lingered for a long time staring at us, us staring at him. I felt sad for his struggle- he looked thin. I hoped that maybe he showed us his wound so that we could see it. And maybe by being seen, could heal.

We made this sign today. It goes out on the front lawn tomorrow morning.

Where has he gone?
The one lit like a candle,
like a seat with roses growing around it.

There is no one like him in the world.
But if there is no form for that now,
how is it everything turns
with the motion of his love?


At night before Steve goes to bed he sits behind me on the couch and watches me paint. I wonder if maybe this is a boring thing? But he always does it, and I like it a lot, and I imagine in my head one of his buddies going, "Whatchya up to, Steve?" And he goes, "Watchin' paint dry!" Tonight he fell asleep on the couch, and he's got a little smile on his face there in dreamland.

Who thinks twice about the tortured gorge cradling the raging river?
"Oh that poor earth. Look how it lost so much of itself for this river."
No that'd be silly! The carving is good. The water's good.
It's okay to get washed away. Good place for a river, then, ya think?

It was the end of such a long day outside so when we got to the room we all collapsed in a heap overlapping each other. Someone drooled and I don't know what foot belonged to whom- my clothes were stained with mud and sweaty too. But when you're all that tired, well, what else is there to do?

So this guy comes up to me
His face red like a rose on a thorn bush
Like all the colors of a royal flush
And he's peeling off those dollar bills
Slapping 'em down
One hundred Two hundred
And I can see those fighter planes
I can see those fighter planes
Across the mud huts where the children sleep
Through the valleys and the quiet city street
We take the staircase to the first floor
We turn the key and slowly unlock the door
As a man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls we hear the city groan
Outside it's America
Outside it's America


I'm listening to Set the Controls for The Heart of the Sun by Pink Floyd. When I hear Roger Waters I feel like he is my pal. Of course I've never met him, but when I hear him sing, he is singing for me. I want to offer my approach for reconciling perceived distance. When I was a kid I used to wish I could lean my head against Jesus. So I'd imagine him next to me and I'd see myself resting with him. Each new day brings new confusion and fear for me, so what I do is talk to people I know who've already walked in this direction. Like, if I'm working on something realistic and I don't feel adequate to the task, I'll talk to da Vinci and ask him if he will teach me what I need to learn right now. Those who have achieved the greatest heights are the most compassionate towards our striving. And if I'm expressing the creative and sexual more that I think appropriate I'll call up Klimt and ask, "Is this okay? Seriously- is it?" And he'll smile a nod. Part of being a real being is letting it be okay to disappoint people. When I'm afraid I'll paint something that disappoints my friend, I will imagine her smiling at me saying, "I could not love you more. Act great." and that helps me be with myself without worrying. Yup. John Lennon said that he believed in anything- faeries, dreams- that everything was real- who's to say that our nightmares aren't as real as our living time? So if my actual life feels tight or limited, I will take it to the dreamland, where there is a lot of honesty, love, and flowing ease.My intention with the left panel is to create liquid sun- watery and shining- with some of Klimt's water snakes doing the job. Michael is as an entrance for or companion with the living sunshine.
So as luck would have it, this morning's rain attracted an oversize leprechaun into the hot tub! Thankfully, I had my camera in hand to capture him...

I want to talk about art, and this is what I want to say:
It's a public orgasm.
is THAT nerve racking.
The Gods are coming!
The Gods are going to eat you.
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
-William Blake

Hopefully I'm out of the weeds here with the Killing Angel. I worked on her face for the third day today, and it looks like she's just about there.

I swam in a cold glaciated lake once and opened my eyes to see nothing. The deepest clearest water with lengths and lengths of nothing- just light streaming through. I was astounded with wonder and completely, utterly, horrified.


Life's not a bitch life is a beautiful woman
You only call her a bitch because she won't let you
Maybe she didn't feel y'all shared any similar interests
Or maybe you just couldn't sweet talk the princess

You ever hear the ring of a sword as it's unsheathed?
The bells at the midnight mass?

The Killing Angel is Sarah combined with some Sioux features to arrive at that face. I'll be adding a knife and spear as her accoutrements, which brings me to some upcoming symbolism...

Knives, Blood, Heart: This is the outer layer of the story with the outer layer story of my life: Six years ago, a friend of mine was killed by a guy who stabbed him in the heart with a knife- just once, and deeply. I grieved him and felt as if that knife was in my heart too. A few years later I lived with a woman who practiced black magic. Woops. She cursed me, I left, and felt pain in my heart. I would stick my fingers between my ribs to try and massage out the cramping inside my chest. Around that time I heard that shamans would sometimes just cut out whatever was hurting the body. I was certain something was stuck inside of me so that's what I did- splayed open my skin with a disinfected blade. It was a very successful prayer, because soon after my life structure collapsed. I did too too many times and had to lay down for a long time because my heart was murmuring. After that I attempted to reconstruct my lifestyle setup over a year's time. It wasn't going too well. So I opened up that wound again, and shortly thereafter woke up one morning with oooh what a pain in my ears. I was sure I was in a nightmare where someone was stabbing me inside my brain. Both my eardrums burst that day and I couldn't hear anything, just see the blood coming out of my head. I emailed one of my friends, "This can't be good! What do I do?" And he replied, "Relax, relax. Bleeding ears can look scary, but it's usually a good sign. Blood is very cleansing." I read how the Mayans and their descendants practiced ceremonial bloodletting. I'm not necessarily into that, but I do know that to be intimate with my own blood does bring some clarity to life. My blood amazes me. Life depends upon every single bit of blood traveling in the right place. A single vein is life or death. In the same vein, all my action and intention right now creates another dimension of my body, just as tender and subtle as the physical one. That's where the killing angel does her work. Her spear is for pruning back the rose bush so that the perfumed roses grow. I didn't have the heart to make her sinister- it would be disrespectful- she's simply intense. Once when I got myself hit by a car and lived with fantastic luck, I promised her I would learn my lessons so she wouldn't have to put me in a pickle like that again. The killing angel is, to me, an aspect of the Good Mother- and she helps one walk the line. I think of the destructive events in my life as the Killing Angel throwing daggers to kill my false hearts or strengthen the real one. When she has her eye squared on a misstep, she just sort of hangs out with her eerie scent in the room. That's when she's like, "Heads up, kiddo." If I miss her there, she'll give me an unpleasant nudge, and on in intensity from there. She is a corrective force, tending to aim at the heart of the matter, which hurts. Though when I respect her and let her do her work, I get to play. But that's just one interpretation. She's also Hell. That's another layer of the story.

So here we've got the Mama, or the Tao, say. On her right, being an expression of her, are two contrasting entities. Just put wings up- those are the wings of an anhinga- they always did give me the heebeejeebees- the Incas regarded them as the darkest birds of hell. That's my friend Sarah as the model. She's gonna be on the darker side. Boo!

Devya here is the Mama Tao. She came to ClearPoint this past weekend. I liked her right away and asked if I could put her in one of my paintings. She said that'd be fine.

Here it comes.