Seattle’s folklife Festival this year was sunny and mild. People came out in hordes to listen to the music. These children and this man were listening to Celtic music while basking in the gentle afternoon sun.

Why is there such a comfort to see that someone is at home? Even as the sun has set, the last rays make rainbows in the sky.

This primordial scene is full of hope for spring.
What is it about the sky, that creates such a wonderful display of color, every evening for just a few minutes. Science or magic or something more esoteric, the painter strives to portray the majesty of those few moments before the night overtakes the day.

In celebration of bike to work month, a view of cyclists enjoying their daily commute.

One of the wonderful things about painting is it entails the act of creation. You can create would have beens, should have beens, or what truly was once; but is now ashes and dust. You can restore youth and vibrancy to the ugly, rigid and old, and portray innocence where in actuality, it can no longer find the remotest foothold. Retrospection and painting go hand in hand; while painting, the mind can be in a place not accessible to mere mortals. Painting is storytelling without verbal language. A painting can fill voids, answer questions, or ask more of them.

Imagine, you’re at a friend’s house in Italy and they tell you, that they have to go to work today; but you can take their bicycle, ride 5 miles on a flat country road and end up in a medieval village. Since it was off-season, what I found was nearly idyllic. Normally a tourist trap; when I arrived, what I found was a few artisans and clerks, and me. It was wonderful. I could imagine the chickens scurrying along as i walked on the stones of the street. There were no real peasants, chickens, or donkeys there; but they had done such an excellent job of preserving the ancient hand painted walls and environs, that this bicycle looked rather modern and out of place.

There are many roads to learning. A great way to learn a hard chord? Paint it! Next chord?

My husband rides his bike to work almost every day. When it’s raining out, sometimes he takes a bus. These two ladies were on the bus with him. Now here’s their (fabricated) story. Mei and Lin were children in the same town in China. They both moved to Seattle at about the same time and they now live on the same street. They have been friends all this time. It is wonderful to have a friend that speaks your dialect and shares your memories. There was a 3rd woman from their town, Shaoqin, who also moved to Seattle. Shaoqin was from a formerly wealthy family and put on airs. Mei and Lin couldn’t stand the woman, and her children grew up with the same attitude.
That day while they were on the bus, it suddenly started to rain. As the bus pulled in to the intersection of 12th and Jackson, Mei and Lin saw Shaoquin’s daughter; running in the sudden downpour. As usual, she had on too much make up. The makeup was running down her face. This spectacle transfixed the two women, and as a result they missed their bus stop.