My Word Of The Year- An Attempt To Reflect And Focus

A dear friend recently mentioned that she was looking forward to hearing about my new word of the year. I actually hadn’t been pondering that at all and was grateful for the reminder to reflect, focus and gather my resolve. Re- words seem to resonate with me quite a bit so I made a list of those but none of them seemed to fit this particular year. Upon looking up the prefix re-, I was reminded that it not only means “again” but it also indicates going backward. That certainly is not what I need to focus on. 


In January 2023,  I wrote that my dad has an incurable chronic illness. He has entered the final chapter with dignity and my family and I are so grateful for the early conversations we had with him regarding his wishes. There is no going back. I have to go forward to places and situations where I don’t wish to go. As my tears fall, I am planning, taking action, and being present. Sometimes being present is all I can offer but it is just as important as all the  “do-ta-doing” as my mother-in-law calls it. Being present…


Recently there have been days when I wondered how I was going to keep my composure. It turns out that being present with my students is one of the most vital means of staying connected to life and love during this difficult time. They enter my classroom with curiosity, openness, laughter, their own experiences and needs. There is nothing else like the creative energy that flows from learning, experimenting and creating together. During those moments, I feel alive and am reminded that I delightfully still have much to learn. 


As someone who deeply values connection with others, I also require time to restore my energy so I can be present and offer love, kindness and assistance to others. Over time I’ve realized that solitude, being present in nature and setting aside time in my studio regularly are vital to my wellbeing. 


Beginning, middle and end…

I am constantly toggling between my classroom filled with young people whose beautiful, jubilant lives have just begun and my dad’s bedside where we try to ensure that his final days here are as comfortable and peaceful as possible. I am present in all of this and feeling the tugs in both directions. I am in the middle of my own journey and need to be present within myself in order to give to all those around me. 


Yes, present is my word of the year.
I am present now. 

I am here offering gifts of love, listening and service.

I am present with and for:

          My students

          Myself

          My father, family and friends

May we all realize that by being truly present, we are offering the best gift.





Leaf Piles - Walking Along The Edges

The leaf thievery continues but I’m going back to my archives and using still life leaf photos I took three years ago. I’ve been pondering these different leaf shapes and compositions for a while. Now is the time to take on the challenge and see if it leads anywhere.These compositions feature a variety of tree leaves randomly piled on my desk and photographed from various viewpoints. I then narrow the numerous photos down (I have about one thousand photos of leaves in all!) and select possible compositions based on interesting positive and negative space, contrasting light and dark values, texture and detail. So far, I’ve completed three watercolor still life paintings using these photo references and now I’m working on a fourth as well as abstract circular compositions that I’m known for. 


The aspects that most excite and intrigue me about these compositions and leafy subjects are the lovely, intricate, delicate edges, the play between light and dark, the vivid hues and varying textures. These unique, fragile, fleeting leaves are like all of nature, including humanity…my dad, myself, all of us. They grew, were nourished, became what they were supposed to be and even once they are no more, they will have contributed in their own small ways. 


I will continue to walk up to the edges of the small intimate things that few notice as well as the vast terrifying places that require awkwardness, courage and compassion. 



Fragile Layers

12 x 16, Watercolor on Paper, 2023