Oops. I forgot to update my website.... for about 2 years

In the meantime... I've relocated to the beautiful Olympic Peninsula, after over 2 amazing decades in Davis, California, the hometown of my heart.

Thanks so much (forever and ever) for an amazing send-off, from all the friends, family, and neighbors who visited my retrospective show, "What Remains" last May, who bought art, who hosted send-offs of many sorts, who helped me pack up, and who wrote heartfelt notes (some of which I still haven't replied to -- though I loved them all).  The days and months pass, but the memories and kindness stay in my heart.

Then there was the lovely article Stacie Frerichs penned, which humbled and heartened me, just as I was feeling particularly anchorless.  She summarized much of my work over 2 decades, in this gorgeous column in the  Davis Enterprise, printed a few months after I'd hightailed it up north.

Photo: Wayne Chimenti

So what've I been up to since then?  A lot of unpacking and homeshooling, but some art, too.  At some point I will revise my portfolio and post new work in an organized manner, but for now, I'll just drop some photos here on what's been keeping me busy, artistically. 

While I'm still fighting boxes and clutter at home, I've found a haven at the Community Boat Project (CBP), volunteering to paint murals and signs on Thursday mornings.  CBP is a unique place for people to share skills in a multi-generational learning environment, while working on tiny houses, wooden boats, and other labors of love. In theory, older folks bring skills like engine repair, wood carving, boat building, and painting, while younger folks learn one-on-one while developing job skills through paid internships and drop-in school programs. In reality, I think older folks learn as much as the young people do, which is why we keep coming back.

Much of my work at CBP has gone into decorating tiny houses that serve local people, currently unsheltered, and leading volunteers in various painting projects. We just launched the Meadow Manor this week.  Decorating it with one of my favorite plants, the dandelion, was the culmination of many years of admiring the dandelion.  I hope the people who land there like it as much as I do.

To me, each plant has its own unique symbolism and story. 

Dandelion is known ecologically as a colonizer. A single plant can produces thousands of seeds that travel, via wind, far away from their origin, before setting down roots in any open patch of soil.  Dandelion grows well in disturbed soils, tolerating difficult conditions like drought, soil compaction, toxicity, and crowding.  Colonizers have a bad name in today's society -- and certainly, dandelions can take over, if left unchecked, but they are also of value, if put to use.  They are bright, beautiful, and resilient.  Their deep taproots bring up nutrients from down below, stabilize soils, provide a nectar source for bees early in the spring, and have bitter, nutritious greens, flowers, and roots (a wild vegetable that plants itself).  Then, of course, there is the tradition of making wishes on dandelion's snowy seedheads. If only all uninvited plants produced such gifts for the eye and palate!

I like to think of dandelions as an unexpected blessing, a symbol of resilience, and a reminder that we all need to be put to good use, feeding and caring for others, lest we become weedy.

Meadow Manor is slated to be farmworker housing for neighboring Chimacum Valley, housing a pair of young people who have come, often from far away, to work on the local farms.  I hope that its beauty will bring them joy and blessing, whether they aim to set roots here or simply stay for a season, traveling on to pursue their dreams.