Lisa, my second cousin, brought me some irises. She has always held a special place in my heart. Listening to her talk about art and learning pottery in college made Christmas parties that much more special. There they were, brightening up my studio for a couple days, while I worked on a prairie landscape of Illinois. They sort of stare at you in their own way, provoking memories of the irises my Mother so cherished, while planting Lisa's smile in the middle of my prairie scene.
Their presence is too much, and down comes the prairie from my easel and up goes a fresh canvas. It's how it is in my studio, when letting my heart lead the way. It's summer, but I'm back at a Christmas party listening to Lisa talk about a master potter she is about to study with and my Uncle Al talking about a 1927 Dodge he worked on in a snowstorm.
Painting isn't always a straight road, it's driving a time machine to an unknown destination.
