I’m a little late this week but I’ve reworked six more pieces. Here are four of them in reverse chronological order. Above is #21, the macaw with a bronzy brown background. Next is #34, below, a kite that was one of the earliest charcoal studies that I painted over and has the same bronzy background as the macaw. Further down is #18, the raven which is one of three with gilded backgrounds. And finally, at the bottom is Jasper, a small wood panel piece from four years ago that belongs with last week’s group. All of the reworked pieces involved a return to the brush, which was inevitable. I’m not giving up charcoal though, but every time I rework something, I want to rework another one.

Why so many? Because the news has been so mind-bogglingly bad and my reaction has been to disappear into the studio to paint. It gives me the illusion of being in control when, out there in the real world, it’s mayhem and chaos. May I just say that the videos and subsequent lies from the powers that be about the content of what I can see with my own eyes has brought me to tears on several occasions. Granted, there’s been the teensiest shift out of DC but not for the right reasons. It’s only more ass-covering and gaslighting. And please don’t get me started on blizzards and Davos.

Whatever. I do have some exciting good news though. You may recall that last year a historical building in Provincetown hung scrims of two of my birds in their front windows. The manager of the building came by my booth at the craft fair last month and then contacted The Commons, who had arranged the original project, to commission ten more. I’m not involved in the hanging of the work but they went with my suggested images. There’s still some tweaking to be done but the installation is impressive. I only have casual snapshots so far, but once they’re finished, I will go by and take better photographs. So, Yay. And onward.

Three new reworks this week, all wood panel paintings. One, Lune above, got a revised title. It was a commission piece, which the client got a hand-embellished giclee of, and which meant it was a gig instead of being done for the joy of it. Joy is not a word I would attribute to it now, but for me it really sings. So does Professor, the middle piece, although he is the first of the birds that I see as sad. He was part of a series of white birds with vivid undertones I did in 2021 and I purposely left him in his undertone state to separate him from the rest of the group. He remained an interesting oddball until I gave him his white coat and inky background two days ago. Now he is my sad little beauty.

One might ask about this palette change. Both Professor and ABE, the eagle below, have taken on a distinct Rembrandt moody density of black against delicate whites - working exclusively with charcoal for the last six months has something to do with this. But honestly, looking back, all the vibrant, defiant color my work was known for had gotten a bit too predictable and easy. Hence the charcoal, which, as I rework the wood panel pieces, are about to be taken to a new level. But the new palette. It’s no secret the bird series started with Trump’s first inauguration and continued through Biden’s term because Trump, lurking and threatening, never went away. I kept painting happy colors as I traipsed back and forth to the UK to visit dear Paul. I even did charcoal pieces while I was there last fall. Then I started reworking some of the charcoals while sliding into the craft fair vortex. Now, as I’m settling back into my studio routine, the world as we know it has plunged into insanity.

Seriously, do you feel safe? Really? That said, with Lune, I’ve crossed out of Rembrandt mode into a full-blown Goya during the Napoleonic War phase. I think about him daubing those sepia and black nightmares directly onto the walls of his house - that terror and rage. I’m not there yet but I feel it coming. However, I have dates for my solo show at The Commons this spring and the aroma of fresh coffee to cheer me up, so, you know, onward.

Now that the craft fair is over and I’ve recuperated physically and regrouped mentally, I’ve been adding a bit of metallic color with the charcoal pieces I’m reworking. #11, above is the first one I finished and I am much happier with it now. In the meantime, I am also reworking paintings from last summer’s solo show by using what I’ve learned about negative space and black while doing the charcoal pieces. Oskar, below, used to have a vivid purple background but now has one that is a mix of dark blues and browns that passes for black but isn’t. This is all part of the necessary growth and exploration of making art, each phase leads to and informs the next. Yes, they are still birds, my spirit animals, my talismans, but there is a definite advancement even though the earliest ones were quite, dare I say it, brilliant too. Brilliant is a word Paul, my fiancé, uses. Our relationship is based on our appreciation of each other’s artwork. We’ve been Facebook friends for at least fifteen years but it developed into a romance in 2023. At the time I was intimidated by him and his career even though I was more prolific and visible on social media. Almost a mentor, he guided me as I built both my website and craft fair business as well as a solid body of original paintings. He has brought a gravity and stature to my work, and he’s patient with me if he feels I’m headed in a wrong direction. He tells me, of course, but patiently, especially when I disagree with him. Although once I catch up with what he has been suggesting, I see it too. You’d have to ask him how I’ve influenced his work, but to my eye there’s a bounce and joy that wasn’t there before. It’s a win-win situation, he has given me confidence and I have brought light into the gloom and despair of what is currently our world. How will the Venezuela nightmare impact our plans? Will the UK have me with my American passport? Will whatever I ship there arrive or get blown out of the water? What about flying? I know I’m not getting on a plane or going through an airport again until things calm down. But will they calm down? I keep thinking about people who were separated during WWII and could only connect with letters that took months to arrive. At least we have Zoom and WhatsApp, for now. Onward.