Untitled Doodle (Original Art)

Untitled Doodle

11" X 14"

Our Muse

I am twisted slightly to look over my shoulder, eyes glued to the sluggishly waving wind sock behind me.  Every exhale of moving air against my neck is mentally measured. My peripheral vision watches the cells of my paraglider breathing in the north wind's presently insignificant gasps.

A tiny bead of sweat cools the side of my temple.  The rest is caught inside the mesh of my snug full face helmet. My fingers slide softly against my lines...

The north wind is coming.  I know it.  My imagination pictures my Wind Woman tumbling, laughing, teasing around far off flags and trees.  Although she is carelessly delayed by distractions from the eastern mountains and then tardier still as she momentarily pauses to smile at leaves... she is coming and I am patient and impatient as the late summer sun roasts my shoulders through my long sleeved shirt.

All around me stand 30 or more others; gear on, harnesses clipped, their heads also steam cooking in colanders called helmets.

We wait in near silence.

Then... the hang glider waiting on the edge of launch, having leaned forward on his wires for minutes the length of hours, suddenly straightens and takes the base tubes (the frame) of his wing in his hands; he has seen the flag down the valley snap up and strong.  He launches. The nose dips down and then curves up.

She is here.

There is a unvoiced cheer of unified relief as we pull up our wings, each of us now competing for our spot to take off.  We stagger forward like zombies, chests to the ground, toes scrambling; we are laughing with our belated muse as she catches us off the earth's edge to toss us up and up.

Winter is Coming (Original Art)

'Winter is Coming'
16" X 20" X .75"
Print Available 

Serenity - Maggie's Tree (Original Art)

'Serenity' 
Maggie's Tree

8" X 12" X 1.5"
(1) 4" X 12" X .75" mounted to (1) 8" X 10" X .75" 

Possibility

She is slender and very young.  Just old enough to be allowed into this little eclectic Portland bar. Perched on bar stool, wrapped in a pretty summer dress, legs crossed and shoulders hunched forward over the bar; her body language declares "Do not disturb".

I had to lean across her to order but I flashed her a quick "sorry " smile as I did.  Looking up and seeing a female face she returns a tight one, curling herself tighter around the little hand bound journal in front of her.

My inadvertently rude glance at her elegant cursive catches a few words "I'm struggling, I can't explain what I feel..."  and I am sympathetic as jerk my eyes away.  The rush of fellowship is familiar. I was this girl. Granted on the the other side of the country but I was her.

I have a giant bin full of journals from this time in my life. It's so heavy I can't pick it up.  I would write and write and draw and draw.  I still do, of course, I am writer and an artist. But it was constant then, literally, every moment, my fingers struggled to get my words out.

I look around at the world, at all these people with so many different temperatures in temper and conflicting points of view -so many hearts convinced it walks alone.  I wish I would pull over and talk to that old man on the bus stop I see each morning.  I am grateful I reached out to that old lady in the store who needed someone to see her and listened to her stories about beloved cats and grand-babies. I regret I didn't leave a little bigger tip to that waitress; I wanted the check and found her by the kitchen door and heard her whisper, "I am invisible." before I startled her with my approach.

I breathe my wish to this girl, that she sees forward to all her possibilities. My eyes find the bartender, my voice startles my ears back into hearing; I order my drink.

"The Light in Her" (Original Art)

"The Light in Her"

18" X 21" 

Loose Canvas, Acrylic
(Unfinished)

Oregon (Original Art)

"Oregon"

10.5 X 13.5 

Acrylic, Oil Pastels/ Loose Heavy Multi-Media Paper