Rain frog

Amulets_FrogThe Mayans have a serious froggy called Uo. The rain caller. It’s a fat plop of a frog that burrows in mud. (Read about the Uo here)

When I lived in Mexico, we often made our evening paseo near a long-abandoned hotel; during the rainy season the frogs  who lived in the drippy jungle and roofless building chorused like something out of One Hundred Years of Solitude.  I’m not sure if the Uo makes its home on the Pacific coast of Mexico, but every time it was going to rain, the ranas that lived in the overgrown hotel garden sang like the feverish lovers they were.

Here in the drought-dusty Sierra, we have been crying for rain. And the day before the big California-walloper storm hit, I heard a few tree frogs singing. Not many, but their small voices rang out like oracles.

It’s been a long while since I’ve heard froggy voices of any kind.  They all but disappeared from Silicon Valley decades ago. The Sierra frogs I heard heralded a good soaking rain, and I made the above picture to honor them as the rain bucketed down last night, and to ease my anxiety about flooding, mudslides, and all the other horror stories from the National Weather Service.

I needn’t have worried about rain. Because right now? It’s snowing.



Waiting for the storm to wallop us.


Amulets_Fox There’s a big storm expected, but the forest is quiet. At dusk I can hear only the whistling chuckles of quail, the har-de-har of a woodpecker,  the hopeful chirping of a few tree frogs. And the rattling of my heart.

Amulets_EyeI admit, I’m anxious about this storm. My mind invents catastrophes. What if a deluge of rain liquefies the soil and my house slides down the hill? What if gusts of wind blast away the roof? What if trees topple, roads crumble, power goes out? What if, what if, what if?

Amulets_CrossSo I did what I do when I’m anxious: I picked up a pencil and began to draw. It’s the best medicine for me.

Amulets_HandAnti-anxiety drawing usually reflects what I’m currently reading, and these days I’ve been reading The Tradition of Household Spirits by Claude Lecouteux. It’s a treatise on European household traditions of appeasing the spirits, or the dead, or dead spirits, or somebody “up-there” so that they’ll protect the home. Most of the traditions seem to protect the home from fire (always a problem in open-hearth houses).

Amulets_DaisyI started thinking about the things that people have traditionally used to protect themselves and their places. So many amulets and charms to help ward off the storms of life!


Sketching Thanksgiving portraits

Graphite sketches
Graphite sketches

We had a house chockablock full of people over the holidays, and I finally unpacked my sketchbooks and had a few moments to scribble a few lines. Babies are hard to draw. Their proportions are unrelated to the proportions of adults, and they squirm and wriggle so much that it’s hard to capture a pose. These were the best I could do, as I could only draw until our li’l bit wanted cuddling.

Blockin-graphite sketch
Block in graphite sketch

A seated adult brother made a much easier target. You can see that I’ve  blocked in the head using straight lines. Even when drawing curves, it’s much easier to begin with straight lines. They are more accurate than a curve. You can always smooth them out later.

Graphite sketch
Graphite sketch

I’ve been trying to draw my brother for years. For some reason, catching his likeness is hard for me to do. Perhaps I know his face too well. Perhaps he won’t sit still long enough (these sketches were done while he was engrossed in a book).

The pencil is some kind of clutch pencil, a thing that’s like a mechanical pencil, only with a fat lead. I like it, but I’d be happier with it if I sharpened it. But since I can’t find any of the multiple sandpaper blocks I’ve bought for this purpose, and I’m unwilling to buy more, I’ll have to use it like it is until I unpack more boxes in the studio.

New beginnings

sail boat
To my colleagues who taught me what it means to create exceptional work, encouraged me to do what I love, and inspired me to do my very best. I’ll see you in the next port. And remember: Make the pie higher!

Today my new life begins. A life without the day job, a job that’s been my home, my sense-of-self, and my security since the beginning of the 21st Century.

The magazine industry is in precarious waters right now, and running heavy ships without good maps. Corporate bean counters are reducing crews, and I was among the group that was most recently set adrift.

But not truly adrift. I’ve spent 15 years working for an exceptional magazine—we won a James Beard award a few years ago, and just last year, an ASME (which is like an Academy Award for the magazine world). During that time, I’ve learned skills enough to float my own boat. And I’ve got a network of others to help me as I chart my own course.

Yes, I’m very sad. I’ll miss the daily schedule. I’ll miss being part of something bigger than myself. I’ll miss the borrowed prestige of working for a large, venerable magazine. I’ll miss the incredible view from the window by my desk. I’ll miss the steady paycheck. And most of all, I’ll miss the people I worked with. After so many years we had become friends.

Things change, and I hate change. But I’m a little excited (and terrified) about this change. I’m not sure where I’ll go from here, but for now, my morning commute is short and beautiful and I’ll have more time to paint. I think this blog will change (or at least become more frequent). I’ve got some ideas. We’ll see where I end up.

I’ve sailed through waters rougher than these.


“Listen, Miss, boats are supposed to float. Even if they break up, they usually still float and show up on a shore somewhere. There have been no reports of wreckage or abandoned boats. At this point, no news is still good news. Don’t worry. It’s too early to worry.” Cathy Ostlere, Lost

A new sense of place

Giant Sequoias
Giant Sequoias (Sequoiadendron giganteum)

Our new home is an easy drive to a grove of giant Sequoias. I had never before seen these particular big trees. Although they are related to  coast redwoods, they are as different as second cousins twice removed. Where the coast redwoods seem to doze in the soft green light and drippy air of their coastal home, the giant Sequoias seem alive and awake, the colors of tree, leaf and sky sharp and at attention in the bright clear air of the mountains.

Base of a giant Sequoia
Base of a giant Sequoia

Fall is settling in, and the forest floor rang with sudden shouts of yellow and red.

The burls (or eyes) of a dead Sequoia
The burls (or eyes) of a dead Sequoia

I feel like this place is already affecting my artwork. My eyes want to taste new colors;  I’m aching to serve up a new palette for the landscape.

Part of a triptych I am working on. Just the beginning stages. More soon!

When I’m in the mountains I feel something in me change, like my heart is opening up, like there is more space in the back of my skull. I’m so excited to paint there!


Back to work!

Watercolor on scrap of Arches 300# paper
Watercolor on scrap of Arches 300# paper

This weekend I finally made time to get into my studio (a welcome autumn rain kept me from the mundane work of pulling deck nails).

I’m at an impasse over wall color and furniture, but as you saw in my last post, the easel and drop cloth are in position and waiting. Once I found my paper, paints, brushes, and rags, I got to work.

I admit, I was a little fearful. I’ve heard artists say that once they moved out of the high traffic area of their home into a dedicated studio they’ve had trouble painting, as if their work was nourished by the chaos and mess of family. I worried, would this be true for me? Just think of all those portraits Mary Cassatt made of her family—not in her studio, but in the parlor, the living room, the garden.

I need not have worried. In the silence of my new studio, my muse found her place. As I reacquainted myself with my materials, ideas bubbled up. The paint flowed.

NewCarI finally began painting this work ( showed you the planning stage here), although I realized belatedly that I’m not quite finished with the drawing. Ah well, when I find my pencils…

This is just the beginning. You can see how I lay in the colors in large blocks.  I don’t worry about many details at this stage. I do try to make sure that every passage of wet paint has multiple colors in them, not just the local color. I don’t mess about with the colors as I put them down. I’ve made those decisions during the careful drawing stage, and which gives me a lot of freedom when I begin splashing paint around.

Then the fiddler called me to lunch, the sun came out, and the deck nails had to be pulled.

Atherton Art Show

Poster for 10th Annual Atherton Arts Foundation Art Show
Poster for 10th Annual Atherton Arts Foundation Art Show


Amazingly, in the midst of the craziness of (maybe) buying a house, packing 11 years of stuff to leave our long-time apartment, working a full-time day job, and enjoying a wonderfully long visit with my beautiful step-daughter and exclaiming over the new step grand-daughter, I’ve been invited to exhibit at the 10 Annual Atherton Art Exhibit put on by the Atherton Arts Foundation. Wow!

The list of artists!
The list of artists!

Look at the list of artists! I’ve admired many of them for years; all of them are top notch. And my name is there too! I’m very excited; that’s why there are so very many exclamation points.  !

It’s a short show—only that evening long—but I think it will be fun. I hope you’ll come; I’m working hard to have  a few new pieces for you to enjoy.


Friday September 5, 4pm to 7:30 pm


Jennings Pavilion in the Holbrook-Palmer Park



Drawing babies

Sketch of baby
Graphite, red and white chalk, Strathmore 400 Series Toned Sketch Journal, Warm Tan paper

Sunday our power went out for the whole day, so that meant no computers, no internet, none of the electronic time-wasters we’re all so used to. Even my phone lost its charge, so I was cut off from the 4g network I usually live on.

How did we pass the time?! Well, we went with some friends to a local park and had a little picnic. While we were there, I tried to sketch their new-born daughter. Babies are hard to draw, especially newborns. They lack the bone structure that an artist can use as landmarks when drawing. Their faces are all out-of-whack, proportion-wise. And even asleep, babies don’t really want to hold a long pose.

There are a lot of babies in my life right now (being of grandmotherly age—meh—I find that my younger friends are filling up their lives—and mine—with babies). So I hope to study this baby-sketching more closely.

sketch of baby
Graphite, Strathomre 400 Series Toned Sketch Journal, Warm Tan

This is an idea of a baby, not drawn from life but from what I remember and what I suppose a baby should look like. Small face, big head. I never thought I’d want to spend a lot of time with the youngest set!

Recommendation: I’m really liking the Strathmore 400 Series Toned Sketch Journal. The paper has a nice feel, the brown color doesn’t reflect sunlight and blind me when sketching outdoors, and I love the luxurious feeling of the faux-leather binding.