Now Where?
I used to write all the time. It was luscious and engrossing. Writing made the final connection between the hydrant in my head and the hose releasing pressure and anxiety. Lately I have been having great difficulty with my painting - wondering where I should go next, if anyplace at all. Maybe painting is finite for me, a train that took me someplace and now asking me to get off. I feel I am at some sort of crossroad, unsure of a direction. Friends can’t help me, spouse can’t help me, God can’t tell me. I have to choose my walk. I have to put one foot in front of the next. And so, with graphite and colored pencil, I begin again.
Adams County Woods
Chazen Museum Girl
On the Banks of Stohr's Park
In a ditch, outside Milton
Viroqua Shed
Across the Road
Wheat
