Take a relaxing breath and listen to this story about how art was made on a recent Monday morning.

A while ago, I pulled some photographs and paintings out of my uncle’s (davidkingartist.com) trash. I heard one singing to me from a bin in my studio the other day. Then, my pile of stained tea wrappers joined in the chorus. And finally, I turned to my sewing machine to provide a beat.

My Aunt Patti’s Pojagi work providing heavy influence, I stitched the wrappers to the painting following ghostlike lines from the painting beneath, along wrinkles and edges. Whatever felt right.

Once it felt finished, I flipped it over and after a moment spent with hands on hips, I grabbed my watercolors and filled in the stitched patterns. It was hard not to peek, but my hope that paint was bleeding through the holes left by the sewing needle came true. Beautiful blots of color had joined variations of brown and a reversible painting was born.

The End.

When I checked out the Mitsui Real Estate Group’s space in January, I was drawn to the reflections from the large green-tinted glass lights. That’s the cue I used to curate images for this show. So, lights, thank you. I might otherwise have been lost in a deep dark hole of years and years of photographs!

I chose encaustic (wax over) images (printed on Torchon paper, which gives a slight watercolor texture) so that the reflections from the lights would be in play. I also tried something brand new - image transfers, which are so fun (and not unlike childbirth!). After a lot of sweat and a few burns, this is what made it up on the walls for the March West Seattle Art Walk.

Come see me on 3/14 for the West Seattle Art Walk at 6021B California Ave SW starting at 5pm!

Oh, added bonus and something to do for those who aren’t into mingling/talking - ART WILL SAVE YOU will be sponsoring a little art-making table to keep your hands busy and hearts happy!

Sarah shifted her weight behind the podium to her right leg, pinching off her bladder as the heat and pressure of suppressed laughter bore down. She shifted back to the left. The heat rose to her chest and then her throat. After the words escaped her mouth, she bit down hard on her right cheek in a last-ditch effort to stop her body from erupting. It worked. She felt powerful.

Hilda's very soul cringed as the photographer shouted "smile!" 

Painting #20 in this series. We live on opposite coasts, but our bond can never be broken.

On almost every painting I get stuck or look down and something is definitely missing. That's when I recruit my kids to take over. At first, when they lift the paintbrush, I panic. What if they ruin it??!

"Remember, don't tell me to stop, Mom," my daughter says. I take a deep breath, relax, and watch the magic happen. It's always just the spark the painting needed.