I love to experiment with textures, papers, different mediums, whatever I can find to re-purpose, reuse, or re-imagine.  I love making it up as I go.  The pieces start to tell me their own stories, take on their own lives.  Right now, I’m using a base of abstract watercolor on wood panels which I will layer with encaustic wax.




These will be mounted on a raised wood panel that has had paper from torn brown paperbags applied to the surface with acrylic matte medium.  I will also layer paint and encaustic waxes to this foundation but here is  where I am, so far.  Hmmm…how will it look when I’m done?





Waxing Poetic

Waxing Poetic

There are days when the Spirit fills you and it cannot be contained. Once we open to it, to her, she will posses you when and where she pleases. Some call her Muse, others name her God – I like to think of her as Lover. She strokes my soul with an electric hum – vibration and movement which cannot be resisted.

She is my Love and my Life and my Savior. She is the spark which ignites me and sets me on fire.

Yesterday, her flame grew so hot she melted wax and guided my hand to create something new…a work in progress.



Lately, my thoughts keep flirting with the idea of collaboration I would love to see manifest in wild, wonderful ways.  More than the kind of collaboration found in art collectives – I want to see a huge, rollicking, ruckus puppy pile of creative energy accelerated across our local, regional and global communities in ways that impact the quality of life exponentially.

My gut tells me that where logic has failed art has a chance of finding a better way.  Maybe I’m just Dada but anyone who knows what it is to be in that altered state, The Flow, has to be aware humanity’s fundamental link to the energy of possibility resides there.

But here’s the rub, we creative types tend to be solitary creatures addicted to the personal high found tripping on our own little interior worlds.  We have a nasty tendency toward a deeply twisted narcissism – egos so delicately etched and fragile that when we emerge from our creative stupor, we’re compelled to race out into the world to show them all whatever it is the art is demanding be said then immediately charge back inside seeking reassurance that the illusive voice hasn’t abandoned us but is still devotedly waiting there to offer us the next hit.

Ah, I love her though she be a harsh mistress.

So, be that as it may, what could happen if we were to stop guarding that fickle, undeniably sexy bitch so jealously?  What synergistic wonder could be found if ALL those voices started vibrating together in a glorious orgy of creative flow?  I’d like to think the bastard children born from such wanton lust would offer a truer, more compelling glimpse of who we are and what we want to become.

Maybe I’m a dreamer – but I can’t be the only one.  Our beloved American Bard said to Imagine and that is what I’ll do.  Will you join us?

How do you imagine a collaboration of the arts (all of the arts) creating something bigger and better?  Please, share your thoughts, ideas and mistresses in the comments below.   Let’s play in our Art Box together.