prunus padusi LOVE LOVE LOVE this tree (european bird cherry) which was blooming right outside our favorite restaurant in portland, oregon, when we celebrated an anniversary dinner years ago. a rare tree, not easily found in nurseries, i took a cutting and it survived the long drive home and sent out roots. it was continually mangled by maurauding deer until we put up a fence! but a persistent tree it is and flourishes as a huge blooming wonder right now. i love how is says, "happy anniversary" every year with its ever increasing grand display.ahhhhh spring!

progress on my hankie quilt

from a larger oil painting about wildflowers of northern california

will the real kwanzan please stand up?clap...clap....clap.....clapyes, the one on the right is the real kwanzan.

another quilting project:transmigration oil to fiber: a viennese sucessionist painting into applique + patchwork

T e M b L o R
as a native of san francisco i grew up with a memory, a memory not of my own, but a collective potent memory of a city. a city destroyed one day.

that day was one hundred years ago today, when the city burned after the unfathomable temblor ravaged water mains everywhere and the infernos spread with ease. there was always the threat while growing up that it would happen again. in an abbreviated form it did, one month after i left my beloved city with my new born baby and husband. i felt so bewildered to learn of the misfortune of my friends who lived and died during the quake. i wondered how our former apartment building fared with its tenuous structure. i had visited a college classmate the week before we left san francisco and then heard that she had died in the collapse of the oakland viaduct on that violent day in 1989. all the years of warning that the big one was coming and i had left just before it destroyed my friend's marina district apartment. my mom called the night of the earthquake to say that she could see the city burning from her home across the bay. burning. my beloved city burning again. how could i be a native san franciscan, experiencing dozens of quakes growing up and not be there? was i lucky to have just left? in a tiny apartment, hundreds of miles away, stacked to the ceiling with our life's contents in boxes, we were helpless but to watch in horror of the devistation on t.v.

all rebuilt or torn down now. and a more beautiful city benefits from the removal of the damaged embarcadero freeway. there have been many earthquakes in the northwest since i moved here, one good shaker occurred within a week of moving away from the white city. but i think i have a more pronounced sense of respect for the power of the earth than the typical northwesterner. i had never seen street trees jolt back and forth like they did here in the quake of 2001. the sound of that quake was enormous. when the quake just kept shaking (in the most persistent quake i've ever experienced) and the wine bottles in the shop next door were crashing to the ground i decided it was time to run out to the street and away from huge glass windows. an elderly woman was sobbing in the crowd gathered on the street. i tried to console her as we continued to feel the earth move under our feet. on the street i was not frightened but exhilarated to witness the earth's power.

we moved away from san francisco to start a new life. we wanted to stay. we adored the white city, where my son was born in the same hospital as i. walking to the legion of honor museum on weekends. buying focaccia from a bakery that made one thing, focaccia. going to molinari's deli for fresh pasta, cheese and wine. browsing and always spending too much at stout's architectural books. meeting friends for coffee at cafe roma and longing for the majolica next door at biordi. real bagels on geary street. tratoria contadina are you still there? loved your delectable pasta. satin moon fabrics, oh, the quality! walking to baker beach, just west of the golden gate. and my beloved toscana sourdough bread with the best crust in the world. strybing arboretum for the rarest of the rare plant sales, extraordinary lectures and picnics with friends. then across the bridge we would go to watercolor in the golden gate national recreation area in tennessee valley.

when i was in middle school i asked a family friend who had lived through the 1906 quake what it was like. as my memory of that conversation fades (why didn't i record it?!) all i recall was that she had to cook outside (as ordered by city officials to prevent further fires) and later spent weeks in a tent city, south of the city, a far cry from her indulgent lifestyle, before she rebuilt her life in a custom designed mansion in pacific heights by the illustrious bernard maybeck. she said that enrico caruso, who had performed at the opera house the night before the quake, vowed never to return to san francisco after he survived the quake.

i am a product of san francisco. and quakes factor into my everyday life. a customary suggestion, among many, by emergency agencies when i was growing up was to always have slippers next to your bed before you go to sleep at night. they are there, every night to this day.

happy anniversary san francisco. you survived the big one of 1906 and you will survive the next one.

(background painting above stir, oil on canvas, 24 x 30")

my latest quilt in progress it features a collection of japanese hankies that were given, one a year, to my mom from an exchange student that lived with our family thirty years ago. the hankies are too lovely to be stored away in a drawer. i'll continue to post the quilt's progress.

this is a detail from a pillow that i painted, on fabric, when i was in high school (when my fabric paintings were sold in stores and galleries in san francisco, sausalito, palo alto, tiburon, and san rafael). i decided today to revisit this passion from long ago and purchased a bunch of new fabric paints. i can't wait to get started and perhaps combine new paintings with my fiber works.

intarsia islandsometimes i miss paintings that have long been absent from my studio (sold). they are little chunks of me that scatter to unknown reaches. are they happy where they are or do they miss their studio mates that were created next to them? many of my pieces are integral parts of sets and when the set isn't whole it's perplexing. should an artist make objects only to appease an inner cognition or willingly free sublimated energies to purchase? it's both, usually, but with some extent of reservation.(intarsia island, oil on canvas (sold) was part of a series called,
"knitting with paint" exhibited in 2003)

pistilsplants everywhere are bursting out like crazy now.

pysankymaking ukrainian eggs is pure alchemy. it is such a delightful surprise to melt the bee's wax away to reveal the patterns of layered dye work. what joy can be had in such a tiny project!