After a few weeks of reworking pieces I wasn’t happy with, I did two new paintings in the last eight days. They are very different from each other, and I am really happy with the results. In fact, Cyrus, the bluejay above, ranks at the top of my list of what I consider perfectly executed without being overly realistic or fussy. I have to be in The Zone for that to happen. Relaxed, in total silence, and almost always right after rolling out of bed. Often it’s the middle of the night. No coffee first, no checking the internet, just me in my pjs with a brush in my hand. These two new paintings were done like that, and both of them came with a plan. Not an agenda, just a concept that grew out of a simple drawing of my source material and a palette range I didn’t fiddle around with. Okay, I did a tiny bit of experimenting with the background behind Cyrus but it was always yellow. Not only did he need to sing, I wanted it to pop. The second of the new pieces is Circe, another vulture. I’ve done three of them now with the goal of making them identifiable as the loathsome scavengers that they are, but beautiful if not pretty. The palette changes when I repeat a bird, this time with Circe, named for the sorceress goddess who enchanted Ulysses and turned some of his crew into swine, I wanted it soft and sweet. She sings too, a lullaby of sorts since in some cultures, vultures are sacred. Tibetans practice sky burials where the deceased are offered to them, symbolizing the cyclical nature of life and death. A grizzly affair, yes, but they consider the corpse an empty vessel the soul no longer needs and should be free of. And the birds get to eat. In other news, other than bombs in Iran and Gaza and Ukraine, the heat wave has broken and I am wearing my new glasses. They are not perfect, and they’re as good as they’ll get, which is not as good as what I had before the surgery with my old glasses. Especially close up. But I will adapt. The birds are already bigger than a year ago and will get bigger still. And a year from now, they could be monumental. Godlike. Hanging in a UK gallery. Fingers crossed. Onward.

I’ve been crazy busy this last week and a half getting paintings ready for the show in July. Other than not being able to find my favorite spray varnish, the work has been coming along nicely. Which is good, because on a personal level, I’ve been struggling with my old 9/11 PTSD the whole time. Need I remind you the Birds series began when Trump was inaugurated in 2017? Although painting helps, my sleep is mixed up because of dystopian nightmares, and I don’t want to leave the house. One positive thing that has come out of this is I’ve repainted three pieces I wasn’t happy with. They weren’t bad, they just didn’t sing. One of them, the American Bald Eagle ABE, has been repainted twice. When I posted him on Facebook the other day, someone who I respect said it was devastating. I loved that. Another of the do overs is Gideon, the first painting I did from scratch after the initial cataract surgery. When I wrote about him in December, I mentioned how surprised I was that he wasn’t as angry as I was feeling. Wary, yes, alert, but not nearly as upset as one might expect, given the chaos in my life at the time - my WIFI dying, finding out all the family history I grew up believing was a boatload of blarney, having my eye cut open etc, and of course, the election. What changed this week was his background. He previously had my coppery golden signature color. Coppery gold has a lovely surface. It compliments everything and most importantly, it is safe. Gideon’s’s new pale peachy color might be regarded as even safer, except now he really pops. In fact, ABE also had that coppery background the first time around, and he certainly pops more now on his baby blue, too. The third bird that has been done over bothered me so much, I never even posted about him. I’m still not certain if I’m finished with him yet, so maybe I won’t show you him until I am sure. He plays nicely with a piece I started before my UK trip and completed today, so maybe next time. I do need to report that the post cataract surgery saga continues. As you may recall, I finally got a new prescription for lenses to correct my double vision and seeing close up issues. I had high hopes the new glasses would be ready in time for the UK trip, but of course, they were not. Instead, I went with my old prescription sunglasses that deal with the double vision but interfere with my new distance vision, and several pairs of reading glasses in different strengths - which is what I’ve been doing since November and am still doing today. Because, surprise surprise, when I picked up the new glasses upon my return, they weren’t right. Partly because of a lab error and partly because the prescription was wrong. So back to the lab they went. Fingers crossed, hopefully they will be ready by the end of next week. Or the week after that. Onward.

When I started to write this post, I was at the Newcastle airport for the first leg of my trip home after another two weeks in the UK. It had been a busy visit. We worked on the images for my 'The Birds' book, and got a sweet vintage dresser for my room. We also both got sick with the same bad cough, just like any other couple, and spent much of the time simply hanging out and living together. I baked a few ginger cakes and a loaf of bread, and made pasta puttanesca twice. Speaking of food, we went to South Shields which is across the river from my beloved Tynemouth to check out the dunes and carnival fairground and had lunch at The Marine (https://the-marine.co.uk/) which I highly recommend if you happen to find yourself there. All of this was in the original draft of this post I was writing in the airport, along with how I finished Oskar the owl painting I brought with me to work on and bought the paint I needed once I arrived. Anyway, there I was, sitting in the Newcastle airport writing in my notebook and waiting for the departure board to post my gate. I had a really tight window between arriving in Amsterdam and catching my Boston flight and too much time was passing. Eventually I headed downstairs to wait at the general gate area. By the time the flight details were posted, it was an hour and a half late. The reason being that as my plane’s incoming flight landed in Newcastle, a passenger on it suffered a heart attack and an ambulance needed to be called. The other passengers were not allowed to disembark until the paramedics worked their magic and took the patient away. Once the plane was empty, it had to be cleaned, hence the delay. And then, since almost all of my fellow passengers were going to Amsterdam to catch other flights that we had now missed, the service desk was a mob scene. Luckily, Expedia, who I book flights with, had already lined me up with a new Boston flight, but alas, it was for the following morning. I was given a room and meal vouchers at a hotel nearby and then spent an hour I’ll never get back in Passport Control with several hundred anxious Chinese travelers just to get out of the building. By the time I checked into the hotel, the buffet they provided was slim pickings. I did have a nice shower and slept ok however, and was up at the crack of dawn for a decent breakfast and was on the shuttle back to the airport soon enough. Have you been to Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport? It is HUGE and very confusing. But as I was already checked in, all I had to do was get in an enormous line to be scanned by security and then use my remaining meal voucher at Starbucks. So to make a long and tedious story a little bit shorter, 36 hours after I’d left for the Newcastle airport, my Provincetown friend picked me up from the Logan shuttle drop-off in Barnstable, a two hour bus ride, and then after another hour’s drive, delivered me home. These trips seem to be getting harder, although this was still not as bad as that fiasco in Heathrow in February. Perhaps I’ll go less often from now on and stay longer until I move there for good. Onward.