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I know the truth.
Forget all other truths.
No need for people
anywhere on this earth
to struggle.
For what? Poets?
Lovers? Generals?

Look: it is evening,
Look: it is nearly night.
The wind is level now,
the air is wet with dew.
Soon all of us will sleep
Beneath the earth,
We, who never let each other
Sleep above it.

Marina Tsvetaeva (1892-1941)

This painting was born during the 1990’s out of deep foreboding. On the other side of the world from my home, the Soviet Union had collapsed, and in what had been Yugoslavia, Serbs and Croats were at war, killing each other, as if to say, “we no longer have to hate the Soviets, let’s hate each other.”

Here in Freedom’s Land and Bravery’s Home, we are living Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet upside down: “How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.” By presidential fiat, what had been our Dept. of Defense is now our Dept. of War. Against what? Against the usuals subjects, of course: whatever and whomever is not like us, especially those with skins darker than ours.

On a deeper level, we struggle against the Earth, our own Mother. Deeper still: we struggle against kindness, compassion, empathy, caring, gentleness, against whatever is deemed “not manly.”

At the center of the painting a woman embraces a man and sings a song he doesn’t want to hear: “I want a whole man, dear one, not just a half. Look: the sun rises at the edge of the woods. Look: it welcomes us to dance together in the snow. Embrace me and the woman inside of you. Embrace all of our sisters too, or your tomorrows will be only dismal repetitions of your yesterdays.”

What is a Vision? Have you ever been struck by one? Been frustrated by not being able to draw or paint it? Whatever your answer might be, would you be interested in seeing Visions from eleven professional artists? If you’re curious, and in Northern California during September, you’re in luck.

I and ten of my colleagues will be sharing our Visions at the Seven Stars Gallery in Nevada City. The artists include Mira Clark, Gary Graham, Della Haywood, Aram Larsen, Molly Molly, Douglass Truth, Lil McGill, Margaret Lindsey, Ben Vierling, and Alison Kenyon.

The exhibition, presented by the Nevada City Odd Fellows, runs from Thursday, the 4th of September until Sunday, the 28th, at Seven Stars, 210 Spring Street. You can meet the artists at an opening reception on Thursday, 11 September from 6:00 to 8:00 pm.

The Gallery will be open Thurs. — Sunday from 11:00 until 5:00. Come in a have a look.

A morning in late November, leaves scattering in the wind, shorter days, colder days, Madrid exhaling the last sighs of summer. My last day in Spain. I didn’t want to say goodbye.

John Singer Sargent, it was said, often chose a subject to paint by walking awhile, pausing, then spinning around once or twice, trusting. He’d stop and then set up his easel in whatever direction he happened to be facing. In a similar mood, I wandered through streets and alleys in the old neighborhoods with a sketchbook and no goal in mind.

By chance I found myself on the north side of the Prado. Crowds milled about, awaiting turns to enter the museum. Attracted by sunlight on the hillside, I sat on a stone bench and drew for an hour or so until the shadows lengthened. My bum got cold. I was getting hungry. Time to move, but the drawing felt empty. No problem: I’ll just take a photo of the scene and use it for reference later. Then I remembered: I don’t have a phone! It was stolen 3 months ago at Chamartín Station when I arrived in Spain.

Now what?

Stand up, stretch. Trust. I approached a stranger in the crowd. Would you help me? I showed him my sketch and explained the problem. He was a tourist from Mexico City and spoke no English. He agreed to take a photo of the scene with his phone and send it to me via email. We chatted about thieves in our respective countries, and laughed a lot. Hours later when I returned to my hotel, there was his photo on my laptop.

Madrid, city of my heart for more than 40 years, you are a parenthesis: On my arrival, you steal from me; when I depart, you offer me a friend.