IDEXX KITTY

Here's a 24"x24" painting I did for IDEXX Laboratories - as cover art for their in-house veterinary magazine called "DX."   

SENATOR SUSAN COLLINS

Last week I had the opportunity to meet Senator Susan Collins; I presented her with a portrait that I recently painted of her. It was one of those little gem encounters: comprised of interest, appreciation, respect, and possibility - an absolutely delightful ten minutes.

*this piece measures 18"x24"

"WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE..."

My father would often remind us of how "spoiled we kids were," and of how "lucky we had it." We were told over and over how "he had to work when he was our age" - how "his job was shoveling chicken shit out of chicken coops" - how "by six years old, he smoked, drank, swore, and had been sent to a shrink." How could I compete with that?

This legendary story had been told many times over the years - his age getting younger with each recital. As I "lazily" floated - watching clouds do the same - I knew I should be doing something more constructive than observing puffs of condensed water vapor enter and exit my field of vision - something more productive than counting horseflies sipping droplets of chlorinated water from the rim of my inner tube. But, I also knew, had I started that very minute - working every day for the rest of my life - never could I eclipse my father's prison-movie childhood. So, instead, I "lazily" floated - imagining him as a six year old, a toddler, an infant shoveling chicken crap - cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth, and whiskey scented swearwords spilling from the other.

*an excerpt from my cancer memoir CAR DEALER'S DAUGHTER

STARDUST MEMORIES

I was trying to decide what to post next when I considered these portraits of Wayne Newton, Elvis, and Tom Jones. (I painted them a few years back from a collection of bargain-bin CDs that I own; I found the indistinguishably cheesy poses irresistible, and wanted to see them hanging on the wall as a series.) Interestingly enough, as I was looking up Wayne Newton online just now - searching for fact-based tidbits to add to this post - I saw where his birthday is April 3rd. That sealed the deal; fate has me featuring "Mr. Vegas" on this date! I'm not actually a fan of Wayne Newton's (I'm more oddly bemused than bewitched by his surreal persona) but, despite personally finding his STARDUST character and enormous popularity a tad disconcerting, I have to respect the man's work ethic... in 1994 he performed his 25,000th solo show in Vegas! I remember seeing him on The Jackie Gleason show back in 1964 when I was five; I was lying on my Nana Abend's naphthalene scented oriental rug in Germantown, Pennsylvania, sipping a Shirley Temple (along side her two Pekinese dogs Shecky and Chingy) when I first heard him sing "Danke Schoen." As a little girl, I was transfixed and confused by the girlish voice coming out of this man; I have such a strong association with that first experience of hearing his strange voice in my Nana's apartment that, to this day, I still smell mothballs whenever I hear him sing.

At 13 I purchased an Elvis three record set from a television ad; the first album featured his early Sun years (before "the fever" had set in), the second album contained his most popular hits (after "the fever" had taken hold), and the third featured his Vegas years (when " the fever" had started taking its toll).

 

In the seventies, my Nana Abend left Germantown for good, and moved in with our family until she passed away. She never missed a single "Tom Jones Show" episode; at 92 years old, she swooned at the gyration of his hips and was captivated by "how he could sweat." She was as hypnotized as the young ladies in the audience who tossed their unmentionables on stage; she was as in love with Tom Jones at 92 as I was confused by Wayne Newton at 5.

*these paintings each measure 18"x24"

CARRI-ON WITHOUT MERCY

It was one of those velvety summer evenings, brimming with the hallmarks of a fairy tale: crickets rosining their bows, moon flowers tuning their trumpets, and fireflies preparing to gild twilight in pale gold enchantment. The candied colors and perfumes of peach, pear, and plum topped off the half-light; these trees were a May Day gift from my mother to us kids, and were planted out in the field - up near the vegetable garden. The first several summers after placing them in the ground, I imagined my brothers and I as our respective trees. My older brother Todd was peach; every season, no matter the conditions, he seemed to effortlessly produce hundreds of sticky drupes, much to the delight of family members and thousands of honey bees. Peach pies, peach preserves, peaches in cream, peach stains on t-shirts and faces - when I think of summer, I think of fresh cut grass and peaches. My younger brother Tedd was pear; he was persistent, but not fecund. Despite being planted between a rock and a hard place, he was determined to produce something; his fruits were small and few, but sweet none the less. I was plum; I had been cursed with leggy limbs, borer, and blight. Concerned that my tree's inferior yield somehow reflected my worth, I kept a nervous eye on each passing harvest; I'd watch my tiny fruits mold and fall to the ground - hoping for better luck next year - trying my best not to take it personally.

 

We watched a buck, two doe, and a fawn nibble at what lay at the foot of the old peach tree (despite its thirty years, and spindly, blistered trunk, this tree was still quite an impressive fruit producer). Mom had just finished commenting on how lovely this all was, when we looked up to see three turkey buzzards circling overhead - wheeling low and curious, and paying no mind to eventide's curfew.

Mom casually said, "Look Bill - they're coming to get us." There was some laughter, then a long silence as we watched and thought about the obvious. Our fairy tale evening had suddenly turned Grimm; sugar, spice, and everything nice had been replaced by poisonous fruit, carrion stew, and a moral yet to be revealed.

*an excerpt from my cancer memoir CAR DEALER'S DAUGHTER

THE CANCER RIDE

I was the required height for the ride, my seat belt was on, and the wheels had engaged; ready or not (click, click, click...) I was committed.

*an excerpt from my cancer memoir CAR DEALER'S DAUGHTER

LOOKING GLASS

When I first arrived home, I went up into my childhood room to unpack my things. As I stared into the fisheye mirror that hung on my bedroom wall, I thought to myself, "Perhaps this was a contributing factor to my low self-esteem and poor body image growing up." Either way, looking into that distorted exaggeration of reality, at that specific moment, felt appropriate - like I was about to enter "that" world.

*this is an excerpt from my cancer memoir CAR DEALER'S DAUGHTER