Something happened just as I was to turn 70 in 2018.
I broke my ankle in a mishap with a porch step, a dog, a cat and a pair of flip-flops.
Dependent, angry at needing to ask for help, feeling vulnerable for the first time, feeling my age?
Not requiring surgery was the best news.
Ten days in a splint with a walker, then a month in a big walking boot; my friends bundled me off for our previously planned art trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
They ordered a wheel chair for me at the air port and helped with my luggage and driving during the whole two weeks.
My 70th birthday was spent on Canyon Road, looking at art galleries with my mid-80’s friend, me wearing my big boot, walking with a cane;
meeting the rest of our friends for margaritas and dinner at our favorite restaurant.
Since then, my life has become Art and everything Art.
Working in a gallery two days a week, volunteering on the exhibition committee at an Art Museum, art making in my studio and at an open studio group, and sometimes plein air painting.
Art showing, buying, selling, hanging art, curating art, encouraging artists, art groups and art friends.
Of course, this year has evolved into something quite different.
Art shows cancelled or postponed, art trips put on hold, ever hopeful for a time when we can move about freely again.
The initial lockdown led to a series of collages that are now currently on display, threatened with yet another lockdown as the virus reaches our
isolated coastal area and our case numbers grow.
I have noticed a calm has developed, a trust in my process, my ability as an artist.
|