Etched onto two large wooden tiles and mounted on an even larger fireplace at a Craftsman Inn somewhere in upstate New York is this writing: “The Lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.”

My husband and I had spent the night at this Inn one crisp fall weekend, and since I like my morning coffee before the sun rises, I got up early, dressed quickly and headed to the Inn’s lobby-lounge — big, old-fashioned, and just plain cozy with its fireplace lighted and its cushy couches and chairs beckoning. Read the rest of this entry »

My friend The Purple Owl says:

Getting creative ideas is not something you do.

It’s something you allow to happen.

My best ideas for solutions often come with time; they rarely present themselves immediately.

For instance, in Chris Price’s Painter Lab at the Digital Art Academy, the first week’s assignment this fall was to paint bold.

What is my bold? I asked me… Read the rest of this entry »

Seems like August never happened.  I know it must have — I had a birthday.

At the end of July I collected a blue ribbon and my paintings that didn’t sell from one art show, and hustled them to another town a few miles east of me for a month-long exhibit. In September I moved the non-sold ones again. To a main street storefront window in yet another nearby town, where they’ll stay another month.

These things do not take up large amounts of time, but Read the rest of this entry »

My interest in all things art-related goes back to my little girl days of Crayola crayons, kid-safe scissors and paste, and all the scrap paper I could find. I remember loving the splashes of color in my grandmother’s English-style gardens, and how pretty everything looked when the sun was low in the sky and made patterns on houses and tree trunks. When someone asked me my favorite color, I said yes. My mom used to tell people my favorite was red. She didn’t seem to understand my answer – I loved them all!

Sadly, art was not a consideration when I headed to college. It was thought of as play by my parents, who were paying for my education.

So my dream, like many others’ childhood dreams, got stuffed into the treasure box of my mind Read the rest of this entry »

When we were little, my sister Nita and I took piano lessons together. I labored and plunked until I became passably good at playing a few pieces. I usually managed to get through the annual recital smoothly, without embarrassing myself. (Family and friends’ parents were always gracious anyway.)

My sister, though, didn’t just play the piano — she became one with the music and simply played what she felt. What she heard in her head came through her fingers as a gift to the rest of us. Even as a child, whenever she played, I sat to listen. Her music was magical, not just perfectly played, but with its own life. Read the rest of this entry »