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.

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

I'm currently fascinated by assumptions and using watercolor to explore the concept. When the mind is hit with an assumption, it stands at a crossroads of a positive and negative paths. The series above was born when a friend of mine said, "No one looks at a nun and assumes she's oppressed." I had to dive in and paint women with various head coverings, hats, objects on their heads to see what they sparked in the subject, others, and myself.

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.