I walk to work in the mornings and thank God that I moved back into my old building. In a way I feel that I'm going back and starting over, doing things as I should have done them in the first place but didn't. I finally feel like I am AT HOME, and no longer have the shrieking burning desire to leave the country like I once did.
I have a sense of place and purpose now that were lacking in recent years, and it feels good.
April is the month I will start painting again; this hiatus needs to end. I would end it sooner, but I'm still setting up my studio, getting things ready for production. I will need the saws, a ladder, and a printer capable of printing spools of archival paper. I've been using newsprint in my paintings, which in a few short years will start to decay. So now I will create my own printed paper, using materials that will not decay. This will open the arena for me to control what is printed on the paper as well, which is something I am looking forward to.
W gave me a painting and we hung it on the back wall where it can be seen prominently. It's one of his surgeon paintings; the surgeon's arms are outstretched, with a pair of surgical scissors on one hand. Sometimes it looks to me as if the surgeon wants to embrace me, and other times I get the impression he wants to cut me open. I love this painting.