I have a HUGE amount on my plate right now and need to focus on task upon task upon task at hand.
Hopefully I can get through most of it today. We’ll see.

Four more work days before my sabbatical.
Yes I'm very excited.

This is all you get from me today.
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about yesterday's teaser.

In the meantime, play nice amongst yourselves. ;-)

RIP Coretta Scott King




Civil Rights Leader dies at 78

"Long before she met and married Dr. King, she was an activist for peace and civil rights and for civil liberties,...She became the embodiment, the personification (of the civil rights movement after Dr. King's death) ... keeping the mission, the message, the philosophy ... of nonviolence in the forefront." - Rep. John Lewis

Happy Monday~

I'm not sure when I will have time for a regular update today although when I do...it may involve sleepsacks, blowjobs and Buffy. ;-)

In the meantime, Eric Francis' monthly horoscope is up a little early.
Enjoy his February Planet Waves and Inner Space writings.

Last night



This morning



(photos courtesy of a good friend, Gryphon MacThoy. Thanks dude!)


Gay Pride

While listening to the voting for HB2661 yesterday tears welled up and then flowed when I realized we won. From there, the whoopin' and hollerin' began in the office.

Last night, Aubrey and I attended the celebration at the Paramount Theater. There was a large crowd at the entrance, waiting. The gay pride flag entered first. A shout went up through the crowd and we all followed the flag into the lobby of this grand theater.

Only 4 or 5 times in my life have I experienced the overwhelming energy that filled me. The first time was in the early '80's. It was my very first gay pride parade. I was in Boston. The second was even more powerful because a few years later, I had the honor of being part of New Hampshire's very first Pride rally. Such a small group with such big feeling.

Texas vs. Lawrence was the next.

Then...last night.

No, it's not over. We can bet our lives that this will go to referendum. We can't rest. We can never rest.

But last night was a time for celebration. People were hungry to gather with others who would understand and appreciate what this struggle means. The emotion and electricity in the room was powerful.

I then cried because I knew my family would never understand. Yes, I could tell them. They'd say "congratulations, that's nice." But they wouldn't get it. They and many others, have no idea.

You gotta hear "fuckin' dyke" mumbled under someone's breath as you walk by. You have to know the feel of hiding all traces of queerness in your apartment, just so your landlord can enter to fix the plumbing problem. If you don't, there's a good chance of being evicted...and you'd have no recourse. You have to stand to the side and keep your mouth shut while listening to coworkers make faggot jokes because you just finally got the job and haven't had the time to prove yourself yet. You need to eat and pay rent. You have to enter the gay bar in groups because if you don't, the group of men across the street will throw rocks at the poor schmucks who are naive enough to not consider the impact of walking alone into the bar. You have to feel your heart break when a family member died of AIDS in '90 and everyone was told he died of cancer because of fear of stigma and ostracism. The funeral carried little honor to the man and instead was sugar-coated for the comfort of others. To this day it still hurts.

You will never forget the rage that boils because you can't safely walk down the street hand in hand with the person you love while you see heterosexuals all around you publicly display affection and love for their partners.

I'm fortunate now. I'm no longer a shiny new queer. I now live in a place where I don't have to hide who I am. I'm old enough and financially set enough and more importantly, strong enough...so it is different for me now. And yet, I will never forget. All I need to do is close my eyes and I can feel the pain. And remember. And think of all the people who didn't even have the same access to community that I did. The isolation, the total aloneness. The fear. The confusion. The terror.

All I have to do is experience a night like last night.
Then I remember.

yeas, 25; nays, 23; absent, 0; excused, 1

HB2661 just passed!!!!

I was watching the legislative proceedings on livestream...and the bill passed in the Senate!

The Real Gay Agenda

Mark Morford's column is quite timely considering it appears our state legislature may vote in HB2661 today.

"Do you know what it is? Do you want to know the real gay agenda, what 96.8 percent of all gay couples wish for every single day including Sunday? Here it is:

From what I can glean and above all else, the gay people of America seem to want this simply inexcusable level of boundless, unchecked normalcy. It's true. For some reason, they believe the utterly disgusting idea that they should be able to live their lives in peace and trust and health, with full support and assistance from their schools and hospitals and government, just like everyone else. I know. Shudder.

It is, in fact, remarkably similar to what heteros want. And women. And black people. And immigrants. And dwarves. That is, to be able to fall in love and maybe even get married (or at least have the option) and have decreasing amounts of sex and raise a family and hold down a good job and pay their taxes and argue with their lovers over who the hell spent 200 bucks on long distance to their mother, all while not having to worry about getting the living crap beaten out of them with tire chains by Arkansas and Alabama and most of Texas, or secretly loathed by small-minded pseudo-Christians who wouldn't know Jesus' true message if it bit them on the other cheek."

Morford wrote in response to nastiness he received for touting Brokeback Mountain in his earlier column this week. Read the rest of Here Is The Big Gay Agenda.

HB2661 may very well be voted in on Friday!
Locations for potential statewide celebrations planned!

Hot off the press, for Washington State residents - regarding Friday's possible passage of a long very overdue equal rights bill - H2661

(For a little more info on the Bill, here is the link to the specific bill from the WA State Legislature website as well as an article from Planet Out.)

From my work email:

If HB2661 passes, join the celebration Friday night!

Tomorrow night we hope to be celebrating the passage of HB 2661 statewide. If the bill passes, here are details on some of the planned celebrations:

Bellingham: 5 PM at Taco Lobo, 117 W Magnolia Street
Kitsap County: 6:30 PM at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Bremerton
Olympia: 5 PM at Plenty's Restaurant, Downtown Olympia
Seattle: 6 PM at Paramount Theatre, 911 Pine Street
Spokane: 6 PM at Rainbow Regional Community Center, 508 West 2nd Avenue
Tacoma: 5:30 PM at Tempest, 913 MLK
Tri-Cities: 6 PM at Center for Positive Living, 210 East 3rd Avenue, Kennewick
Wenatchee: 7:30 PM (Saturday) at Cellar Cafe (SHINE Event), 246 N Mission Street
Yakima: 6 PM at Rainbow Cathedral MCC, 225 North 2nd; 7 PM at First Street Conference Center, 223 North 1st Street

The celebration in Seattle is being sponsored by Equal Rights Washington, The Pride Foundation, Lifelong AIDS Alliance, Greater Seattle Business Association, The Task Force, The Human Rights Campaign, Rep. Ed Murray, Rep. Joe McDermott, and others.

We expect that a few more cities will have these celebrations; we will send you information as soon as we have it.

Hoping for a great victory tomorrow!
---------------

Notes and a painting…

~My car, a white Corolla, now looks like a dalmation. It also looks as if it was on the set when Hitchcock’s “The Birds” was being filmed.

~Getting ready to go on vacation for a week means much extra work before leaving. To leave for 4 weeks is well…you do the math.
I am exhausted.

~I feel so confident in my replacement that there is no anxiety about being away from my job for a month. Relief!

~I can't wait for the shrink to return. So much has happened in the last week and a half. I miss my outlet.

~Someone want to come over and do laundry for me?

~I have to scrounge up a bio for LLC. This will be interesting.

~I've somewhat planned the first week of my sabbatical. Ideally, I would love to spend the first four days at Easton Mountain. No phones, no tv, no computer, no radio, no newspapers. The quiet and calm is greatly needed. But because I'll be in NYC in April, I can't afford another trip right now.
Instead, I'll stay home, do absolutely nothing (but clean my apartment) the first few days. Then I'll turn it into a painting studio. Day after, I'll stock up on supplies. I plan on diving into painting by the end of the first week.

~Damn I'm tired.


Want to see another painting?


When I used to take vacations to paint, one beautiful fall week in New England, I found myself too tired to think of painting in oils. At the time, I was painting outdoors, around the NH seacoast. So I opted for watercolor. As I positioned myself to paint I realized I was much too tired to even use color. The decision was made to do small black and white watercolors. This piece came from that week.

I was sitting on the corner of Bow Street in Portsmouth, NH. The full sheet is 11x14. Being too tired to paint big, I masked off the page into various sizes.

These are part of what I call my zen paintings. No thinking. Open my eyes and be aware of light and line - react to it with my gut, my belly, my cunt.

I'd work very quickly, using only black paint and some graphite while the paint was still wet.

When the area would be too wet, I'd jump to another, and then back again. These would never be one at a time paintings.

I enjoyed engaging and focusing on what appeared mundane. Shafts of light hitting corners. Simple shape of a doorway. Seriously sexy.

This page, with others, are all hanging on my mom's wall in MA. I don't have the heart to take them back. Each little painting is separated, matted with large archival cream mats and framed, filling a wall.

I could never decide if I preferred the page as a whole or each image as a unique painting.

It's Wednesday!
Yes, I will give you our weekly Wednesday horoscope and column but first, a much needed venting~


The last two days have been chock full of some of the most intense work problem-solving I've had to deal with. I am aghast and agog at what hoops I needed to jump through to access what I considered to be simple calendar year 2005 4th quarter payroll deduction information for some donors who gave to us via their workplace campaigns. Attempting to contact the appropriate person in the appropriate office with a failed attempt at first being connected with a MAJOR corporation's human resources department left me sputtering and furious.

The lunacy began when I called corporate headquarters for said company and the operator informed me that extension listings were for names only. It was not broken down by department. "I'm sorry I can't help you unless you give me a name."

I couldn't and still can't believe the idiocy, the ignorance and the lack of efficient systems set in place so non-profits can receive accurate information and in doing so, better serve our donors.

Want the somewhat vague example?

Well, I'm working on year end tax receipt letters. I noticed that for 50 of our donors, with a combined annual pledge of almost $20,000 (not a small chunk of change), I had yet to receive the 4th qtr check, and therefore couldn't credit them for their full 2005 gift. I understand that we won't receive the check until the end of January but I know full well the payroll deductions had been completed and therefore somewhere, someplace in our god-forsaken country, tied up in red tape and bureaucracy, lay a spreadsheet - a simple list of what was pulled for our donors in that quarter.

That is all I desired.

(Now I know full well that if someone gives via United Way or most of the workplace campaigns, they receive the tax receipt from that campaign. But unfortunately, one corporation switched and now the rules have changed. The money goes from the employeee to a trustee account and then to the nonprofit. The recipient organization is responsible for doling out the receipts. When I was notified of the change in June, I knew it would be an issue. I brought up the problem of the 4th qtr lists and was reassured that we would receive the data in a timely manner. And then I forgot all about it. Until Monday.)

2 days.
2 very long days to track and receive the information. This included, but was not limited to, googling for addresses and contact information. It included many automated email replies. It included deadends.

Before the list was FINALLY emailed to me, I had received the most ludicrous of many ridiculous reasons stated in two days as to why they believed I really didn't need the information now.

"Ma'am, the donors should get credit for the gift when the organization receives the check. Therefore that deduction from their pay ought to be applied to 2006."

I was stunned.

Taking a deep breath and expending much energy to remain calm (seeing this was the icing on a multi-tiered cake that is leaning more than the Tower of Pisa) I said through gritted teeth:

"You mean to tell me that if a donor chose to mail us $10,000 on December 15th but we didn't receive the check until sometime in January then he would not be allowed that tax deduction on his 2005 taxes??????"

"Well, when you put it that way...I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thank you. I look forward to receiving the names and payouts."

Unfuckingbelievable.

Want to know what made me even crazier? I am NOT the only person from the only 501(c)3 who needs this information. Hasn't anyone else gone through this tangled maze? Hasn't anyone else dealt with this? We aren't dealing with fly by night small organizations. The management for charitable payroll deduction is being handled by one of the leading companies responsible for philanthropic giving. They contract with many major corporations.

I kept walking into our CFO's office asking "am I crazy? Am I asking for too much? Am I off base? Why is it everyone I spoke with doesn't seem to understand why I need what I need?"

He worked to keep me calm.

Now I have the info, and need to work it into my own spreadsheets. It will be done by today. I'm still shaking my head over this mess.

Let's go on to fun stuff.

This week's Freewill Astrology by Rob Brezsny and Mark Morford's column. Today Morford writes about Bush's excessive use of signing statements.

An excerpt:

" How about how Bush's insane rate of issuing those now-infamous "signing statements," those little firebombs of judicial misprision wherein your mumbling president gets to reserve for himself the right to ignore any law he signs -- yes, any law he desires: anti-torture, surveillance, you name it -- whenever he feels like it, if he deems that law unconstitutional. Screw Congress. Screw the system of law. And screw, well, you.

For the record: Ronald Reagan issued 71 signing statements during his unholy term. Bill Clinton issued 105 over the span of eight years. Bush 41 signed off on 146, the previous record.

And Dubya? Well, little George has slapped his color-crayon signature on over 500 signing statements so far, reserving his right to disregard the law more times than all former American presidents combined. It is a record. It is a disgusting abuse of power. It is another thing to stack on the pile o' embarrassment for our nation. Shall we see how high we can go before we topple and implode?"

Read Horse Sex Porn Candy Teens! for the entire article.

So cool!!!

Last night I received an email from someone who had stumbled upon my blog and read my entry on being held.

He has a webpage called Candide's Notebooks - A Daily Portal to Minds without Borders. Within that, he has a section called Best of Blogs roundup. It's a revolving set of links and blurbs.

Well Pierre Tristam, the man who wrote me, said my entry was "curiously absorbing" and mentioned he was going to put it in his best of blogs section. :-)

It's there. In the link, Mr. Tristam calls the post disquieting. Personally, I like that.

I'm not sure how long it will stay up, but it feels good to be recognized for an entry that felt risky to even write. I had been working on a holding entry for almost three weeks and was never happy with it. Saturday morning, my fingers flew across the keyboard and I saw the difference. The original was a chunky strangled piece, made so because I worked hard at maintaining a personal distance from my words. The entry that went up just became.

Who woulda thunk?

Intimacy ~
Thoughts on holding and being held.


My shrink is gone for two weeks. This is the first time that the abandonment stuff isn't coming up. Refreshing? Quite.

I've been taking serious risks in therapy. Dangerous for me.

For a long time I knew that a big part of my healing would involve being held. I didn't want to go there with him. He never suggested it. Instead, it was a still quiet voice within me that with time, became louder and more insistent. I hesitated because I thought maybe that type of work would be more appropriate with a sacred intimate instead of a psychoanalyst. I was concerned with boundaries. I was terrified that if I got the courage to ask, he'd deny my request. If so, it would smack of old wounds.

We finally talked about it. We looked at all the risks and what may come up. We looked at stuff around boundaries.

Then one day, in a small, scared voice, I said:

"Would you please hold me? I need to be held."

He came over to the couch and sat next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and I laid my head on his chest.
There I stayed. For the remainder of the session.

There is very little talking. No movement except breathing. And the strong healing feel of being wrapped in someone's arms.

I've asked a few times since the first hold. Each time is just as scary as the last. I thought I needed to budget the holding, as if I was only allowed 4 a year. Yeah...old stuff.

When I received the news about my friend's suicide, I again asked to be held. To be so comforted while in a fresh pain was new. And it's still difficult for me to relax in.

I am not comfortable or used to being held. I have memories of being kissed or hugged, but absolutely no memories of being held as a child. I have memories of mom sitting on a chair or in bed with all of us curled up around her as she told us stories or sang songs. I remember her teaching me to make playdough and then how to sculpt little animals.

I remember how she gathered us together during a thunderstorm and told us how beautiful the rain and lightening was. Later on I realized that due to a bad accident, she was terrified of thunderstorms and didn't want to impart that fear to us. So she turned it into a pleasant time...and therefore a comforting memory.

There was much love.

And I don't remember being held.

The earliest time that comes to mind is when I was about 22. A friend was holding me because I had just realized I may be queer and it freaked me out. They held me while I cried. A. held me in his arms a few times while I was in training. The Bear and bunny have held me.

As much as I desired it, needed it, I couldn't fully relax in it.

No memories of my kid being held.

I wondered about holding. I wondered not only about me, but all of us. How often are you held? I don't mean after sex or while sleeping with a partner, although that's important too.

But how often are we each held...long, 10 minute, 20 minute or longer holds, when we are simply feeling scared, lonely, or having a bad day?

Are we a society that isn't comfortable with holding? Or is the lack of holding relegated to the pathetic few of us with broken childhoods?

To have someone wrap their arms around you and hold you. No talking. Breathing together...for the better part of an hour is intense. In addition to some of the S/M play I do, this also is new edge play for me.

To learn how to relax in someone's arms, without my heart beating quickly, is a huge lesson in trust for me.

I'm a hugger. Full body hugs are brilliant. Shoulders, chest, belly, groin, legs touching. Or as much as possible given body type.

Most people aren't comfortable with such touching.

I love, love, love those full body hugs. There have been moments where the other person and myself are in a synched-openness. Those hugs, with nothing else, have culminated in lightening charged orgasms. Our bodies, held together by our arms entwined, create one massive visibly shaking cumming machine.

The electricity!

I have held others. I love holding and comforting. Yet to be held in return is frightening. I'm in a very vulnerable space when I need holding. The emotions are big and churning. I am terrified that I'll contaminate the holder with my intensity or my vast neediness. The next natural step is they would push me away. I then believe I am too much for others.

My last session, I again gathered up my nerve and asked to be held. You see, I could feel myself constructing a wall that day. He was leaving for a couple weeks and so I didn't want to open up. I figured I could coast through the session, not feel anything, and then we'd pick up upon his return. But I finally asked.

I think I surprised the shrink. He commented that he thought my stubborness would win out and I'd keep my mouth shut.
I know I surprised myself.

He held me. This may have been the longest stretch. A couple times, I almost got up because it felt too intimate and it scared me. But I continued to even my breath and push through the fear. By the end, I was finally beginning to relax. In doing so, I knew that he wouldn't abandon me. And with that knowledge, I also knew that I could begin to rewrite my history so my old hurts and wounds would no longer have the same power.

I left that session with a new budding insight that was beginning to grow in my heart.
I felt the glimmer I was worthy of being held. I too was a person.

In that moment, I did not feel invisible.

Big headlines in the SeattlePI's print edition:

Google refuses U.S. demand for search data -
Microsoft, Yahoo! and AOL have complied

SAN FRANCISCO - Google Inc. is rebuffing the Bush administration's demand for a peek at what millions of people have been looking up on the Internet's leading search engine -- a request that underscores the potential for online databases to become tools for government surveillance...

Check out the rest of the article.

You know it's going to be a great Morford column when it begins with:

"There is this theory, more of a truism really, tossed about like a fuzzy beach ball by the gurus and the masters and the mystics since Jesus was but a lint ball of possibility in the Great Belly Button of Time."

Damn. Isn't that just the prettiest, grooviest image?

I want to copy the whole damned thing, but I'll refrain from doing so. Instead, go read Sam Alito On Brokeback Mountain - What do the bitter neocon nominee and the amazing Oscar-bound film have in common?

lol...

...not one of my most flattering shots. But it's perfect for the entry. Aubrey checked in with me to make sure it was okay...and I said it was fine. I laughed when I saw it.

Want to see a silly photo of me? I opted for the bowtie because I was in celebration mode.

I’ve wanted to highlight something new but haven’t had the opportunity or energy until now.

The Field Mice Project and a new blog.

The $25,000 endowment was raised for the Tony DeBlase Scholarship in December 2004. In December 2005, we received a surprise check from a family foundation of $2,500.00 for the scholarship. Then on its heels, another check of $500 from someone else. These two gifts re-energized the project and Aubrey has decided to work toward increasing the endowment to $50,000. The larger the endowment, the larger the annual scholarships awarded.

Being a community endowed scholarship fund, he desired to provide more info so the community that supports the project can learn more about it. Aubrey revamped the scholarship site, which now includes the thank you letter from the first recipient, Aidan Key, as well as other goodies.

His new campaign for fundraising is the Field Mice project. The idea came from the Wizard of Oz books (not the film).

In conjunction with the Field Mice project, Aubrey created a new blog. Pop over, check it out, link to it...and drop Aubrey a line to say hi. :-)

Or better yet, donate your $5.00 latte money to a scholarship that promotes further research and education for human sexuality.

"Artist and meditator alike ultimately aspire to an original act."


(Originally I was going to post only the horoscope and Morford's column...but one thing led to another.)


It's Wednesday and time for Rob Brezsny's Freewill Astrology.

Today's column by Mark Morford appears strongly provoked by the JT LeRoy controversy. Who is JT LeRoy you ask? Well, New York Magazine asked the same question in A search for the true identity of a great literary hustler.

Morford goes off in I Wanna Be A Crackhead Author - Hello, I am an ex-hooker heroin addict with AIDS who eats live puppies. Please read my book.

I have, of course, my own opinions but haven't the time to deal with a response yet. This is because I haven't fully immersed myself in all that's been written. Keeping that in mind, my immediate reaction is "bravo JT!".

I understand the feelings of betrayal, dismay, disappointment and rage by his readers but on the other hand, as strongly as I'll fight for free speech, I will fight for the right for someone to concoct and imagine. Even if it bugs me.

All art distorts reality. It's our own personal truth. When we choose to engage, I say "buyer beware."

We are so hungry for solid truth, for something that connects us to this planet, for something that screams we aren't alone...and maybe to read of something that resonates to then discover it was a farce...can be somewhat traumatic.

Thing is, whatever connection was made is real. It doesn't matter if the source morphs or disappears.

Nothing is permanent. Within the fluidity and a life filled with constant change we cannot deny those moments when we are moved. It's about the energy.

And on that note, here's a thought from my morning email:

Great Art and Great Dharma

"The artist's dilemma and the meditator's are, in a deep sense, equivalent. Both are repeatedly willing to confront an unknown and to risk a response that they cannot predict or control. Both are disciplined in skills that allow them to remain focused on their task and to express their response in a way that will illuminate the dilemma they share with others. And both are liable to similar outcomes.

The artist's work is prone to be derivative, a variation on the style of a great master or established school. The meditator's response might tend to be dogmatic, a variation on the words of a hallowed tradition or revered teacher. There is nothing wrong with such responses. But we recognize their secondary nature, their failure to reach the peaks of primary imaginative creation. Great Art and Great Dharma both give rise to something that has never quite been imagined before. Artist and meditator alike ultimately aspire to an original act."
-Stephen Batchelor, Tricycle: The Buddhist Review, Vol. IV, #2

"Artist and meditator alike ultimately aspire to an original act."

I love that thought.

I'm running behind.

How about January's horoscope from Eric Francis?
This is where you can find Planet Waves, and click here for Francis' Inner Space 'scope.

From an article on last night's Golden Globes:

"I know as actors our job is usually to shed our skins, but I think as people our job is to become who we really are and so I would like to salute the men and women who brave ostracism, alienation and a life lived on the margins to become who they really are." - Felicity Huffman

I’ve been regrouping.

The weekend was busy, really great, gave me much to think about and wiped me out. Yesterday was a lazy day with no talking.

I'm still not up for talking so right now I have no idea where my next entry of substance will come from.

Today I begin training my replacement. We have about 2 1/2 weeks. In addition, I'm planning a small event and need to deal with the prep of that. On Sunday I was invited to sit on a panel for the Leather Leadership Conference in April. It looks as if I will be in NYC sooner than I expected!

The panel idea excited me. When I mentioned it to my shrink yesterday, he grinned and said that with my experience, I was more than qualified to speak on that subject. Until things are finalized, I will stay vague about the topic for the panel discussion.

Somehow, life is speeding up, and capturing more in the vortex. I just need to find a way of accessing some energy to keep up with the spinning.

Freedom.

Yes, here is another of my paintings.
This is one of my very few paintings that has a name.







Today, before settling into a very busy weekend, I feel like telling a story.
My longtime readers will recognize parts of this.

Once upon a time I met a girl. She was brilliant, tough, and had a sexual appetite that matched mine. She had an MFA in literature, a singer/songwriter, now has 2 cd's out, and can play a steamin' guitar.

For 7 much too short weeks we fucked. In between our day gigs, we fucked, we listened to music, we fucked, we drove to her radio interviews (because her first cd had just been released), had sex on the road, hit open mikes, concerts. Fucked, fucked and fucked. Down in Boston she opened for Richie Havens. I had a fun evening sitting with the sound guy for Richie's set and learned about the board.

Many times we'd bring the toy bag with us. Sometimes, we'd bring a book of sex stories, and while one was driving the other would read, exchanging the names in the stories for our names.

We spent a few evenings where she'd work on her music or promo packs while I'd be in the studio painting. She challenged me, pushed me.
A few times we'd fool around while working and as the temp was rising, and I'd get to the edge, she'd stop, push me into my studio... and suggested I paint. Channel our sexual lust into brushstrokes and color.

It was the very first relationship where I felt we were equals. I wasn't teaching or guiding or even more importantly, I didn't have to diminish who I was so the other party didn't feel threatened. Unfortunately, my past relationships required that I temper myself. She excelled in her music, and I could explore myself in painting.

The relationship ended as suddenly as it began. No notice.
A door had opened and then a door slammed shut.
I was left reeling.


Early on, she was looking at my paintings and wondered about my palette. She asked about all the colors I used and how they felt to me. Then...

"You don't use red. Why?"
"Yes I do. For accents."
"I dare you to do a red painting."

I picked up the challenge.

This is the painting born of a dare.

I remember working on the piece, quickly painting, not thinking. At one point I grabbed my brush and laid down the large turquoise shape. It scared me because it felt so bold. I grabbed another brush, ready to wipe it out when she walked into the studio.

"Don't do it. Leave it."


A year and a half later I moved to Seattle. A gallery director contacted me to book a show for the following year.
I created 10 new pieces, and he also grabbed 15 from my home.

All I did was ship the work to my family. I was pleased to have this show but didn't want to deal with any details. You see, at that point, I figured my job was done. I had painted.

So I requested my family price and title the work.

This painting was named by my 17 year old niece, the jazz singer. At the time, she was about 9 years old...a few years into her music. She called me, excited that she had come up with a title for the painting.

"I noticed when all the paintings were laid out, and we were all gathered around looking, everyone saw something different in this particular painting."
She continued, "so I decided the name of the painting was Freedom."

Freedom.

On many levels it is.

When I look at the painting it feels immature and unsophisticated. And it was the first time I painted in the unknown. No direction or clear vision. My niece was correct. It is about freedom. It was the first time I channeled my sexual energy into my work. It was the first time I dared expose more of myself on canvas.

This piece was a leap forward, and therefore will always hold a special place in my heart...

...as the moment of conception was also a sacred time.