fog

In February and March and most of April, I woke up to fog. I’d look out my front windows toward the water and see a milky veil over everything.  Slowly, as the day came alive, the mist would clear, and I could start to see the view.

It’s how I have felt – in a fog, unsure of where I am meant to be heading. It’s been more than a year since Bruce passed away. My life for the past 30 years was tied with his. We shared dreams and loves - books, movies, travels, our history. 

I am lost without him and find myself trying to push through a fog to find where my life might head next. Making art helps me because it takes my total concentration and reminds me of love. It soaks up time. 

It’s no wonder that so many of the pieces I am making now have a “foggy” quality. Washi paper allows the paint to soak in differently making a rich texture that still feels as if it is one. 

I gasp at the Rocky Mountains or the Grand Canyon, but my artwork usually has the spareness of open spaces - the prairies of the Dakotas or the rolling hills of the Palouse in Washington state.

Here are a few of them.

But earlier this month, I started an online class with Lorna Crane. Wow! Look what’s happening!

I am pushing boundaries again. I’m not sure these pieces feel like me. I’ve started adding inked organza on top of the pieces because it softens the piece; it adds a fog. But maybe it’s a new me that is trying to find a way into the present. 

I just keep going, trusting that I will find my way.