The Lonely Artist: May

I think I have sold exactly one drawing this year. I am not going to cold query curators I do not know anymore. These emails, that make me embarrassed to even write, either dissolve into a black hole or come flying back to me as an auto reply which basically says to fuck off. I

What do I write about?

I have struggled with what I want to say – in a blog post, on social media, to my therapist, to friends, with my art. I decided to look back at my decades of diaries. There are many. Mostly they contain writing. Some diaries have the occasional drawing. You get the gist. Since 2009 or

Another World.

For two months I was in a mansion being housed and fed. The mansion houses women with eating disorders. Packing clothes for an amount of time I didn’t know, for a change of season, for an expanding body, didn’t help me accept what I was doing. I was in disbelief on the drive with my

The Bear

This is how it began. I hated yard work and gardening and then I loved it. I got rid of hideous sickly hedges and got nice, small shrubs. I weeded and dug in the ground. I stopped using gloves. My fingernails are usually filthy. But first I was in love with an etching by Kiki

Hate

HATE: \hāt\ n 1. intense hostility and aversion There is much written on the subject of hate, mostly that you shouldn’t. You should forgive, forget, move on. It wastes energy, it hurts YOU more than the person you hate. To all of it I say “poo”. There is really just one person I hate. I

The Bare Minimumn.

I have been a maid. I wasn’t very good at it. I was too slow. I was thinking of all my minimum wage jobs after reading a review of the memoir Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay and a Mother’s Will to Survive by Stephanie Land. I haven’t read the book. I wanted to, but the

Snowy Night in New York City.

During a visit to see my mother in Brooklyn, I went out to see art work, which many of you know is a difficult decision. Snow began to fall in the afternoon. I went to see the Drawings of James Siena first. There was construction in the tunnels. I had to take a train, and

Unfortunate Timing.

There was a television show I liked very much called Once and Again. It was a quiet show, basically a family drama. In one of the last episodes of the series, a character named Karen, who has had a rough time of it, gets very depressed. Unable to help herself alone, she eventually seeks the

Moral Compass

I have been knocked off course. I need an ally like my father, or D.C.S. Christopher Foyle, to help me find my way. My dad was the only person I have known who could actually change a person’s mind about something they thought they believed without ever raising his voice. When I was in first

Every Day

routine [roo-teen]    noun 1. a customary or regular course of procedure. 2. commonplace tasks, chores, or duties as must be done regularly or at specified intervals; typical or everyday activity: the routine of an office. 3. regular, unvarying, habitual, unimaginative, or rote procedure. My daily routine: Wake at 9. Walk Alice. Make coffee. Work.