In early March I learned that my paternal grandfather's favorite color was yellow + I received a commission for a piece in warm hues, pulling me into the sunshine. 

This piece about my grandfather is aaaaaalmost finished. Tentatively titled "Sunshine Over Riverbed" for his favorite color and the rich black "muck" soil of his farm on an ancient riverbed. Carrots were his main crop, the sweetest most wonderful carrots ever. He sold 50# bags to restaurants along with other  produce at the Detroit Farmer's Market for decades. My cousins and I are spread out far and wide and don't know each other well, but one thing that binds us is remembering the taste of those carrots, best with a little dirt on them according to my cousin Maria.

Grandpa was a wise and infinitely curious man who loved God, his family, and a good joke. My favorite story of my dad's childhood on the farm was "The Day It Hailed Twice." The lettuce crop was coming in nicely that  Spring. Bumper crop to take to market. Then a hail storm knocked out half of it. Devastating but manageable. Then a second storm wiped out the rest. That very day I believe, or the very next, Grandpa went to a nearby factory to apply for work. He took my father with him so he could see what a man does for his family. 

The yellow is all for him, and for my Aunt Kay who told me it was his favorite color. The gold foil, that's for the shining bits of godly character he planted in our family. 

Going big for NYC, baby!  Art Expo NY April 4 - 7. Grateful for the opportunity to learn and exhibit. 

So the tricky thing about building in layers is knowing what to keep from a layer and what to cover up. When a layer gets too precious, I hesitate, hold back, pull my paint punches. Like this little one.  I boldly declared it done twice before it was reeeeelly done. But look at those juicy colors! Can you blame me?

...because I see dots, people. 

Several years ago I decided to try some dots in a painting. My nephew, maybe 6 at the time, and I had just made a few paintings together with round sponge stamps. 

Different than my rows of hatch marks, maybe too different, but people I trust loooooved it. I tried more dots but without success. Awkward. This six inch square got me a bit closer to comfort. 

Then a few weeks ago I braved dots again, first by scratching marks into the paint and that made it all come together. This one is called "Teal Over Teal," the signature color for ovarian cancer, and one that just makes me all calm and comfy. And by the way, my nephew is almost 12 now. Breakthroughs happen when they happen.