2007

 I wonder why I have to be so obsessive about painting? I would like to get my portfolio together and look for a gallery, but why I ask myself, do I have to be pushing myself to keep up with some non-existent timetable. Why am I fighting time? Time is my ally.  I must learn to float like a cork in a river.    

Knowing my own limitations makes me feel safe. My limits help me stay in my own life.

My time is full of the obvious conflicts, his illusions because he does not see me as I am but rather as he wants me to be. I do not have a studio now so it is hard to paint.  I try to find harmony but we all clash while sharing the living space.

Today is one of those days when time gets away from me.  Stimulated and over stimulated, perhaps. For many years I could not see past my own childhood traumas and dramas. I was envious  when others spoke fondly of their early years.  Now time has brought me to that same place in the mountain, I have already crossed the peak, and I stand here and look back with sweet regret.

Set up my new studio in the living room. I cannot wait any longer for studio space. I have to paint!  So I do,  all morning,  starting with the Alayos Mountains and bullfighters with capes.

Float along like a cork in a river. June 2oth:Paint Papá, a few days later a great loss occurs.

Summer begins and all the little creatures run. Death is always just around the corner. I am afraid of a tiny mouse I saw run underneath the living room furniture.  Explore space around head and techniques using  glazes and the spatula.

Capea in the small southern town. Sleep in dusty bed over the horse stables. (Capea: amateur bullfight in small village square or private ranch). Drinking wine in bodega while the Spaniards sing flamenco and recite poetry.  I read Nine Weeks with VanGogh and Gauguin.