Kristine Fretheim.com is Live

My new web site, KristineFretheim.com, is up and I hope you all will take a look and let me know what you think. Posts from Watercolor Haiku moved over to the new blog page okay, but I can't figure out how to move Google Friend Connect along with them. Until I solve this dilemma, you can continue following Watercolor Haiku via the subscribe by email button on the new blog page. Does anyone know how to move Google Friend Connect to a WordPress blog?

Going to Watercolor USA 2014!

Hen & Chicks (detail)
19.5 x 15.5

My painting Hen & Chicks has been selected by juror Maggie Adler for the Watercolor USA 2014 exhibition at the Springfield Art Museum in Springfield, MO. The exhibit is open from June 7 - August 5, 2014.

Since 1962 the Springfield Art Museum has recognized and encouraged watercolor painting from across the United States by sponsoring the Watercolor USA annual national competition. I am thrilled to have a painting included in this exhibition!

How Long Will It Take

Mary Janet Allis Peterson
May 24, 1925 ~ February 15, 2014
Oil on Canvas by Kenneth R. Peterson

… for the sadness and this knot in my chest to go away? I didn't realize how often I thought of her, how often I called her to chat about this and that. I wasn't aware of the space she filled in my days. I wasn't aware. She was opinionated, outspoken and impatient, and I was often upset by our conversations. Even so, I called her frequently, happy to hear the sound of her voice. She was my mother, my rock, and my wake-up call. And she was a remarkable woman.

She married the love of her life, artist Kenneth Peterson, in 1948 and their life together was rich with family and friends. He died suddenly at age 49, leaving her with three children to raise on her own. She never re-married.

She created a good life for herself and her children working as an executive secretary, a bank teller, a fabric store manager. She loved fashion. She was always beautifully dressed. She was smart, out-spoken and direct, and while her daughter is prone to fits of day-dreams ('Kristy, you think too much!'), my mother became softer, more patient with me as she aged. She loved to read; her bookcase shelves were full and piles of books spilled out on the floor around them. She lived with passion. Her retirement was filled with creative projects, many more than she could ever finish. She was insatiably creative. A piece of her embroidery reads, "Busy hands are happy hands." She loved needle-work of all kinds, cooking, painting and drawing. My father once asked her to withdraw from his portrait painting class, because she was so good, she intimidated his students. (She really was that good.)

Once I told her, "I know the time is coming, but I'll be devastated when Munch-cat dies." She grew silent and stared hard at me with steely green eyes. She knew her time was coming and I couldn't face it. She seemed to push me out into the world, forcing me into a strong role that didn't fit.

Her picture is next to her number on my phone. I'm keeping her there for awhile, yet. If only we could have a little more time. I still have so many questions and so many, many things to tell you, Mom!

First Place Award and Acceptance to Missouri International Exhibition

Vajra Vision #4
Watercolor on Arches   22" x 22"   ©Kristine Fretheim

I'm happy to announce my painting Vajra Vision #4 is one of eighty paintings selected by judge Cathy Hegman for the Watercolor Missouri International 2014 Exhibition. The show is open from April 1 through May 16 in the National Churchill Museum, Anson Cutts Gallery in Fulton, MO. Beginning May 25 the 2014 Exhibition will be featured on the Missouri Watercolor Society website along with previous exhibits.

More good news! My painting Hen & Chicks, selected by judge Curt Pederson for the Arts in Harmony 2014 International Exhibition, has received a First Place Award. As the largest international art exhibit in Minnesota, the show received entries from 30 states and 4 countries, and includes multiple mediums ranging from painting and drawing to ceramics and sculpture. The exhibit is open from February 3 to March 27, at the Sherburne County Government Center in Elk River, MN.

It's Not Easy Being Green

Giclée Print of Original Watercolor
SIZE: 11" x 14" • Unframed  • RETAIL: $75
EDITION: Signed Open Edition 

It's not easy bein' green
Having to spend each day
The color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer
Bein' red or yellow or gold
Or something much more colorful like that

It's not easy bein' green
It seems you blend in
With so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over
'Cause you're not standing out
Like flashy sparkles on the water
Or stars in the sky

But green's the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly like
And green can be big like a mountain
Or important like a river or tall like a tree
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why
But, why wonder, why wonder?
I'm green and it'll do fine
It's beautiful and I think it's what I want to be



To acquire a giclée of "Bein' Green" please contact me in the comments below or on my web site. It's also available framed ($250). See more of my work at: kristinefretheim.com.

Giclées are museum quality fine art prints. Unlike large, lithographic print runs, giclées are printed just a few at a time with dye-based, archival quality inks on acid-free, archival watercolor papers. Each print is approved, signed and numbered by the artist. Giclée prints should be displayed in a dry location out of direct sunlight. Proper care will add to their longevity and to enjoyment of them for years to come.

Patches

Giclée of Original Watercolor
SIZE: 8" x 10" • Unframed • RETAIL: $25
EDITION: 100 Signed and Numbered


This little calico was my ever present gardening buddy for many years. She was thoroughly cat preferring to be outdoors right up to her last days. Our long Minnesota winters tested her patience. Forced by heavy snows to stay indoors, she begged for a sniff of the outdoors as though she could tell just how long winter would stay. I contrasted a loose, wet background with a crisp foreground to make her stand out. If you would like to give her a home, please contact me in the comments below or on my web site.

See more of my work at: kristinefretheim.com or @WatercolorHaiku.

This giclée is full size like the original painting. Giclées are considered museum quality fine art prints. Unlike large, lithographic print runs, giclées are printed just a few at a time with dye-based, archival quality inks on acid-free, archival watercolor papers. Each print is approved, hand-signed and numbered by the artist. Giclée prints should be displayed in a dry location out of direct sunlight. Proper care will add to their longevity and to enjoyment of them for years to come.

Say A Word Of Truth

Giclée of Original Watercolor

SIZE: 16" x 20" • Unframed • RETAIL: $125
EDITION: 25 Signed and Numbered

Meet Mr. Munchkins, benevolent ruler of our home. He is all sweetness and light. He came to us as a tiny orphan from Feline Rescue, and immediately won the hearts of our household. When I saw him laying in the sun on the blue and yellow patterned rug I had to paint him! I brushed the shadows and patterns in the rug loosely, focusing on his face with crisp detail. Do you think I captured that mysterious cat telepathy? P u u u r a m i t a...

Framed giclées are available at $375 and unframed $125. To acquire this sunny image, contact me in the comments below or on my web site. See more of my artwork here: www.kristinefretheim.com or @WatercolorHaiku.

This giclée is full size like the original painting. Giclées are considered museum quality fine art prints. Unlike large, lithographic print runs, giclées are printed just a few at a time with dye-based, archival quality inks on acid-free, archival watercolor papers. Each print is approved, hand-signed and numbered by the artist. Giclée prints should be displayed in a dry location out of direct sunlight. Proper care will add to their longevity and to enjoyment of them for years to come.

Chia– In Heaven's Doorway

Giclée of Original Watercolor
SIZE: 21" x 28" • Unframed
RETAIL: $250
EDITION: 50 Signed and Numbered


My furry friend Chia sat in this patch of sun every afternoon. When she passed away at age twenty years, I couldn’t help but reflect on the life we shared. I used a wet-in-wet technique to create a soft, muted effect. After the painting dried, I lifted out color to create whiskers and highlights in her fur. I got a little carried away making whiskers! Earth tones were perfect to depict her calico fur.

One full sized giclée is available. To acquire this image please contact me in the comments below or via my web site. See more of my artwork at: www.kristinefretheim.com or @WatercolorHaiku.

This giclée is full size like the original painting. Giclées are considered museum quality fine art prints. Unlike large, lithographic print runs, giclées are printed just a few at a time with dye-based, archival quality inks on acid-free, archival watercolor papers. Each print is approved, hand-signed and numbered by the artist. Giclée prints should be displayed in a dry location out of direct sunlight. Proper care will add to their longevity and to enjoyment of them for years to come. 

Five To Three

Giclée of Original Watercolor
SIZE: 19.5" x 14" • Unframed
RETAIL $125
EDITION: 100 Signed and Numbered


When my son was growing up, he lived and breathed baseball. We spent our summers traveling from one baseball field to another with his team. They were pretty good! We went to Coco Beach, Florida one summer where they played in a national tournament. This painting embodies heartfelt memories– sunburns, sweat and clay dust, grass stained whites, the crack of bat on ball. Does it rekindle any memories for you? To acquire this timeless image for your home or office, please contact me in the comments or via my web site. It's available unframed or framed in clear maple.

See more of my work at: kristinefretheim.com or @WatercolorHaiku.

This giclée is full size like the original painting. Giclées are considered museum quality fine art prints. Unlike large, lithographic print runs, giclées are printed just a few at a time with dye-based, archival quality inks on acid-free, archival watercolor papers. Each print is approved, hand-signed and numbered by the artist. Giclée prints should be displayed in a dry location out of direct sunlight. Proper care will add to their longevity and to enjoyment of them for years to come.

Black Cricket Chirping

Giclée of Original Watercolor
SIZE: 29" x 22" • Unframed • RETAIL $250
EDITION: 50 Signed and Numbered

I found these Clematis on a hot summer day at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. The shade was cool and insects were hopping. Can you imagine a cricket chirping as you stand there in the shade? There is one giclée print remaining in this size— unframed at $250 or framed at $650. Treat yourself or someone you love. To acquire this beautiful floral, please contact me in the comments or via my web site.

See more of my work at: kristinefretheim.com or @WatercolorHaiku.

This giclée is full size like the original painting. Giclées are considered museum quality fine art prints. Unlike large, lithographic print runs, giclées are printed just a few at a time with dye-based, archival quality inks on acid-free, archival watercolor papers. Each print is approved, hand-signed and numbered by the artist. Giclée prints should be displayed in a dry location out of direct sunlight. Proper care will add to their longevity and to enjoyment of them for years to come.

P.S. We Received A Merit Award

Hen & Chicks (detail)
Watercolor on Arches   19.5 x 15.5   © Kristine Fretheim

Hen & Chicks was selected for a Merit Award by exhibition judge Brian Stewart at the Extremely Minnesota 2013 - 17th Annual Juried Show. The exhibit at Robbin Gallery runs from November 7 thru December 14, and is open for public viewing Wednesdays thru Saturdays from noon to 4 pm and Thursdays 5:30 to 8:30 pm. Robbin Gallery is located at 4915 - 42nd Ave N, Robbinsdale, MN 55422.

Riding The Wave

Detail: Zen Garden Boogie
Watercolor On Arches Hot Press

One of the things I love most about painting, is riding along on the wave of creation to see what will happen next. In Zen Garden Boogie, my materials are dictating the way forward. The hot press paper led me to a flat, graphic style of work, and while it's fun to do, I miss traditional methods of layering to create depth and form. But here we are, and since there's a ten-pack of hot press waiting in my studio, I'm going to be learning a lot more about working with hot press watercolor paper!

This first piece forced me to let go of glazing to gradually build an illusion of dimension. The paper refused to accept layers of pigment, thick or watery, requiring me to simplify my methods and throwing my attention squarely into design. I'm drawn to complexity. I have no desire to mitigate or simplify what I see. I want my work to express a sense of the tangled intrigue that is our life. With this new method of painting, I'm relying on linear shapes of color and value weaving in and out of the picture plane to create three dimensional movement and rhythm. I don't know…is it working? We all see color differently. I do know it's deliciously fun!

In Boyé LaFayette De Mente's book, Elements of Japanese Design, he writes about muga (letting "it" do the designing). Sounds pretty wonderful and easy until you ask who or what is it? Ha! The penultimate question. De Mente defines muga as a state in which there is no sense of an individual self, a state of spiritual ecstasy arising from continuous training of body and mind. While training requires persistent effort, at the same time it requires letting go. I like the way Eugen Herrigel describes it in Zen in the Art of Archery:

"Do you now understand," the Master asked me one day after a particularly good shot, "what I mean by 'It shoots,' 'It hits'?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand anything more at all," I answered, "even the simplest things have got in a muddle. Is it 'I' who draw the bow, or is it the bow that draws me into the state of highest tension? Do 'I' hit the goal, or does the goal hit me? Is 'It' spiritual when seen by the eyes of the body, and corporeal when seen by the eyes of the spirit—or both or neither? Bow, arrow, goal and ego, all melt into one another, so that I can no longer separate them. And even the need to separate has gone. For as soon as I take the bow and shoot, everything becomes so clear and straightforward and so ridiculously simple…"

I love/hate these Zen stories. They grab my mind, twist it all around, then ring it out. When we're painting "in the zone", in the state of highest tension, academic concepts disappear, and the way forward— "it" becomes delightfully simple and clear. Brush, paint, goal and ego all melt into one another, and everything becomes clear and straightforward and ridiculously simple. Continuous training, our efforts to become a better painter, our frustration and our struggles, are all ingredients for the subtle alchemy called muga.

Unforgettable

Jensen by Jim Rogers

I've been haunted by this painting since I first saw it during the Minnesota Watercolor Society Fall Exhibition at the Colonial Church in Edina. I'm sorry my photograph caught a reflection in the glass across the top— please disregard. I visited this little gem several times. What is it about this painting that kept calling me back? We artists try to express what can't be described in words using a visual language created by brush, paint, skill and intuition. It's a deeply personal and often subliminal communication. In Jensen, artist Jim Rogers has created a sensitive portrait that speaks volumes. There is nothing generic about this piece. It's alive. It's personal. It's brimming with subtlety and mystery. What do those blue eyes see? Is she afraid? Perplexed? Is she scolding us? The artist has expressed the essence of this young girl so well, her spirit captivates and stays with us long after we turn away from the painting. The intensity of her gaze and the tangled curls of her hair are reinforced by the cool, dark color palette and loose brushwork of the background. Every choice the artist has made, conscious or not, supports the earnest, inquisitive expression of her face. I like this painting quite a lot. I hope the artist exhibits it in other venues so that you can experience it in person, too.

A Bonanza of A Disaster

Detail of a work in progress.

I've been experimenting with different watercolor papers lately. This time I tried hot press paper. It's machine made and quite smooth, whereas my usual cold press paper has a bit of tooth. I wanted to try a smoother paper because my work of late has been very detailed and I thought less texture might be easier to work with. Wrong. I spent about a week drawing and putting down the first layer of color. It seemed a little gummy in spots, but not too bad. So far so good. Then calamity struck. When I began to apply the next layer of color even the most staining pigments lifted right up. Now I'm almost two weeks into this painting and nothin' is working the way it should! I'm not one to give up easily so for me these periods of doubt and struggle are pretty interesting. First I wondered if maybe I didn't soak the paper long enough to break down the sizing. Then I wondered if this paper contains extraordinary amounts of sizing. Then I wondered if my pigments were so old they were separating from their gum arabic base. I wanted a solution to this gummy mess of brush strokes, and after trying several different brands and styles of brushes, from the softest squirrel to the stiffest synthetic, I finally settled on an old Cheap Joe's Golden Fleece. The brush gave me a smidgeon of hope that kept me from throwing the painting away and starting over. I'm pretty good at determining when to "put the brush down and step away from the paper!" This definitely was the time. So I sat still with my smidgeon of hope and my frustration and disappointment. And I sat still some more— until I realized I had found a bonanza of fun and potential. This confounding paper had set me on a new path and was forcing me to learn new ways to paint. I know this sounds silly to those of you who are wild and crazy experimenters playing with new materials all day every day. I'm usually focused on content and the most expedient way to express its message. This paper seems to be pushing me toward a more graphic, flattened style of communicating. We shall see where it takes me. I still have my cold press waiting...

An Intuitive Design Perspective

Hen & Chicks (detail)
Watercolor on Arches   19.5 x 15.5   © Kristine Fretheim

Recently I discovered a sweet little book called, Elements of Japanese Design by Boyé LaFayette De Mente. The design elements De Mente writes about are considerably different than the six elements— line, shape, value, color, pattern, size— that I learned in art school. They could be from a different planet! Alive with emotion and sensuality, the sixty-five design elements discussed in this book have infused Japanese culture and arts for centuries. Each of these short essays about design could inspire life-long study and practice. None are easily communicated with words and they beg for artistic expression. They are intangible yet essential. Without them artwork falls flat. The great challenge for a painter is how to imbue one's work with such elusive qualities. With brush in hand and an intuitive design perspective in mind, I'm eager to paint and see what evolves.

One of the design elements, sabishisa (sah-bee-she-sah), is translated as indulging in sad contentment. It can be likened to the discomfort of knowing that life is fleeting, that all things continually change. The lonely feeling can be particularly acute in autumn as leaves wither and fall, cicadas reach crescendo and days darken. Western culture tries to distract us from discomfort and convince us that we're incomplete if not perpetually happy. De Mente says, "The Japanese of old did not try to avoid or relieve this loneliness. They catered to it. Moon viewing, insect listening and autumnal pilgrimages to mountain shrines were fraught with a sense of studied melancholy." Aah! Moon viewing and insect listening! Wonderful! He also describes this loneliness, as shinmiri, a sense of intimate tranquility. The sadness and loneliness he describes is not about wallowing in grief. Both sabishisa and shinmiri lead to a contemplative sense of calm, an appreciation for the richness of our lives. An inner stillness. Contentment.

As an artist I'm continually asking myself, "What is my intention with this new work?" What am I attempting to convey? Life is an emotional, sensual experience. How can I express that visually? I want to explore these intuitive design elements as I paint this winter. Supporting them will be the eight design principles and six design elements already in my toolbox. This winter promises to be an interesting one. Stay tuned!

Abstract Realism

Vajra Visions #4 
Watercolor on Lanaquarelle,  21" x 21" © Kristine Fretheim

This is the last painting in my series based on the Japanese gardens in St. Louis, MO. It's reeds and lily pads frozen in the melting ice of a pond. While the composition is abstract, the images themselves are rendered fairly realistically. I call it abstract realism. Abstraction generally means painting without a recognizable object. Some of us, however, see everything as abstract. Everything. We no longer see things. Instead we see patterns, shapes, lines, values and colors. So I was excited to find these naturally occurring abstract compositions in the pond in St. Louis. I love the weaving tangle of energy.

Another feature of abstraction is it's dependence on design. Since there are usually no objects portrayed, abstract painting is considered to be pure design. Both abstract and representational painting benefit from a thorough understanding of design. Principles and elements of design energize the compositions of any genre of painting, realistic or abstract. Look closely and you see that abstract forms exist as various design elements within recognizable objects and their surrounding compositions. A reed is a reed. This seems to be true because most of us don't look long enough to see the illusory nature of the reed, the lily or the shadow. Everything is abstract. Really.

Percolating in The Between

My Ancient Twisted Karma
Watercolor on Arches, 22" x 22" © 2013 Kristine Fretheim

All of my ancient twisted karma,

from beginningless greed, hate and delusion,

born through body, speech and mind,

I now fully avow.

I'm in limbo, unable to get moving in the new year. I've no shortage of ideas for new work, yet I'm just percolating here in my studio, hanging out in the uneasiness and ambiguity between paintings. Do I take the familiar path— and immerse myself in a realistic painting with a clear end? Or jump into something new and untried? Instead, these past few weeks, I've been cleaning and puttering in the studio. My palette was getting moldy and some of the pigments had turned to a gravely sand-like consistency, so I decided it was time to forfeit some of them. I washed out the wells, saving what pigments I could, and cleaned dried puddles of color off the center mixing area. Washing these puddles away revealed the mixing area has become stained with sepia and winsor violet. I can work with it, but if any of you know how to get rid of these stains, please let me know! 

I replaced the old, crusty pigments with fresh, new, wet ones, filling up the palette again with colors I've grown to love. Verditer blue, lavender, naples yellow have caught my fancy. They're not transparent and in fact have a white base that adds a translucent fog to whatever image you apply them to. I didn't stop there. I also purchased a set of Daniel Smith granulating pigments and their own little palette, and a new ground by Golden Acrylics to experiment with. Texture is the name of the game! Staining, lifting, scraping, scratching, sanding, glazing, layers upon layers. I guess that is a bit of a new painting direction for me.

As I worked on this painting, the words, All of my ancient twisted karma, drifted through my mind. I don't know why. Maybe they came to spring-clean my psyche, preparing me for another leap into some new unknown. We'll see.

May your new year bring happiness, health and well-being.

Limitations Fuel Creativity

Here's another detail of my latest painting. It has a kind of surreal feeling that I rather like. Forms floating in a groundless space. Is it water? Or sky? When I took the finished piece in to the city to be scanned, the service tech asked, "Did you paint from your imagination?" That's just the kind of response I hope for. She recognized plant forms but she wasn't exactly sure what she was looking at. She seemed intrigued by the depth of space in the background and by the sense of movement of the forms floating in space. I had softened contrasts, flattening space with thin glazes of complementary colors, so the actual painting is not as bright as what you see here.

A nebulous issue that I've been pondering of late is freedom in self expression. Paging through one of my old journals recently I came across some notes on creativity attributed to Sister Corita Kent and Jan Steward from their book, Learning by Heart: Teaching to Free the Creative Spirit. They seem to be saying that limitations spur artistic growth. They say working with the inherent limitations of real things allows the artist to define goals, clarify artistic procedures and express the essence of his/her subject. I think this is exactly the activity of creativity. In the process of art-making a weaving together of the real and the abstract unfolds. A vague amorphous idea like creativity can't be articulated clearly, but it can be demonstrated in the process of making things.

Kent and Steward describe two very different approaches to art-making. Artist A says she feels creative so she will paint clouds. Artist B says she's really turned on by clouds. Clouds are fascinating and she wants to explore them further. Artist A is focused on the label, creative, a formless abstract theory. Artist B focuses on the clouds, real things, and her inquisitive process itself is creativity. Kent and Steward's explanation is much more thorough and informative than my attempt to paraphrase so I urge you to read their account. Their approach is an effective way to work with imagined personal short-comings that we tend to perceive as obstacles. Kent and Stewart seem to use limitations as a supportive platform, a springboard for self expression. It's very much like meditation wherein everything we encounter becomes a tool to uncover our true nature. I think their focus on real things for artistic inspiration and hence a supportive structure, can be helpful in clearing the mind fog of habitual neurotic thinking, and open us up to fresh new ways of seeing.

Making things requires continual study, exploration and practice. You can by-pass all of that, throw a little paint around and wrap yourself in creativity theories. But isn't that an illusion? Art-making is not just frivolous scribbling or throwing of paint in emotional spasms of naval gazing. Even abstract expressionism, the action paintings of Jackson Pollock are held together by elements of composition that emerged from the movements of his own physical body. Rooted in the limitations of the tangible world, art-making can flourish because the limitations themselves are the fuel of creativity.

Today Is For Softening

Ango, a zen practice period, means coming together in peace for meditation, study and work. An ango lasts for about 90 days. This winter I've imagined my painting practice as an ango loosely following the practice at Hokyoji. Except I'm here. Alone in my studio, sitting and painting with Mr. Munchkins in his white fur okesa. Instead of chanting we purr. Sometimes my husband joins us. Even though we have a room set aside for meditation, over the years zafus and zabutans have moved into my studio next to the easel and tables.

I love this season. Everything is strangely fragile. Though colors are soft, at times the light is too vivid for me. For several weeks I've worked night and day on a new painting and today I feel like washing all the color away. I want a painting that speaks with quiet energy like this end of winter season. The image you see here is an early detail of the larger painting that's almost finished now. I'm moving toward a quieter palette with more earth tones. So today is for softening. It's for softening my mind and heart, and for softening the contrasts in this new painting moving it closer to these muted winter days. This new work is inspired by images of a Japanese garden in St. Louis, Missouri. I visited there a few years ago in late winter. A frozen pond reflected the sky in a sheen of water on the melting ice. A tangle of stems from crumpled dead lilies reached toward the sky from deep in the ice. I see an abstract. A metaphor. I want to spend every spare moment painting. I'm frustrated I'm so slow— with so many images waiting for the brush.

Playing in the Gap

For a while I thought my realistic images were my real paintings, and that the time I spent playing between them was a waste. The gaps between are filled with uncertainty. There are no maps— just vast possibilities as far as the eye can see.

I call these paintings the In-Betweens because I work on them between my realistically rendered paintings. The In-Betweens are a reprieve from the intense concentration necessary for realistic artwork. They are a breather, a break from normal. They fill that period of time between completing a realistic painting and beginning a new one. In-Betweens are an exhale. I just let go. I paint with no preconceptions. They are a dream world where colors are emotions, smells, tastes and sounds. The colors define shapes and create a rhythmic composition. To simply follow the colors and shapes with complete abandon is the greatest fun of all. It's satisfying to be lead around the picture plane that way after exhausting myself on a realistic piece that requires precision and unwavering attention to detail.

The In-Betweens are a total change of pace and method. I begin with an old painting (you know— one from the “I wrecked it, I quit pile!”) and scrub off most of the old paint. I like the paper to show a hint of whatever image was there before. Then with pencil I draw a pattern of skewed shapes and creatures. The real fun is glazing one color over another to create patterns and rhythms dancing around the page. Every new layer changes the composition. As layers deepen and colors become richer, the picture plane develops depth and a surreal landscape appears.

If you think about it, we are always in-between. We're between waking and sleeping, birth and death, between this thought and the next. And what of the gap between each breath? There is the space between you and me that we call relationships. While seeming empty, those spaces between are alive with potential. Inevitably we fill them up with the expectations and desires that create our world. When you meet that vibrant potential, how and what do you choose to fill it?