November 5, 2015




This morning I decided that from now on I’m going to wear my most expensive jeans in the studio.
I pulled on my ratty sweater and went down the back stairs to the kitchen. I slipped on my rubber boots and opened the door to the garden. 
I’m grateful for the...

October 10, 2015



In my mid twenties finally went to school for myself. Fully time pottery seemed massively indulgent. 


A few months in, my instructor shocked me by asking me if I wanted to do a trade. I blushed. Bruce Cochrane was by all accounts a master in the clay world....

September 15, 2015





“I don’t have long,” a friend apologizes.


I do this a lot. To my sister in law whose foot is in a cast, or our friend David whose heart is broken and we still haven’t invited him over.


I have settled into a novel by Beth Powning set in Puritan New England. In...

May 22, 2015

Last night I watched an episode of a Netflix series Chef’s Table. It had been recommended by a few friends but, as per usual, I was disappointed; an Italian guy who sets out to be a rock star chef becomes a rock star chef. 


I wished it had been about the old woman who...

May 14, 2015

The truth is I “fritter” my life away painting, cooking meals that take forever, and daydreaming. And chatting about life with Jake and the kids, or friends, turning over the meanings, the intentions. I clean when things are intolerable, and approach banking with simil...

May 1, 2015




As a young kid when I showed an interest in piano my parents sent me to a really good teacher, Ruth Kazdan whose home was near Hazleton lanes. The poor woman was a serious Conservatory type who was probably a concert pianist teaching to pay the bills. I had no rhyth...

March 12, 2015


It’s happy hour at a beachside restaurant and I am drinking a spectacular Margarita, chatting with Irene. She sticks out in this beach town; late thirties, fleshy belly and bikini top with a leather skirt, and a low-slung army belt with lots of ammunition pouches. She...

March 9, 2015

When I was 20 I travelled for six months; West Africa, India, Thailand, Malaysia.


26 years later, with a family van and some soccer mom years under my belt, I find myself hiking alone up the waterfall in Montezuma, Costa Rica. I passed the “Don’t go alone. Flash floods...

March 7, 2015

On my solo trip to Costa Rica, because of a storm in Dallas, I ended up spending 18 hours in Miami. Flying into the city I saw for the first time a vast swath of city, canals or reservoirs, precariously set two inches above sea level. 


I decided to fill my time by taki...

February 20, 2015


This morning the sunshine poured into the studio. I signed a painting while thinking about a conversation I had years ago with a therapist.


“How do you feel when you sign a painting?” she asked.


“Appalled,”I said. I was shocked to hear myself say it.




Finishing a p...

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