“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Now that I’ve become gluten free, the lure of pizza is gone for me. I probably would not choose this subject matter if I were to do this collage today. Something like roasted Brussels sprouts would take root.

Being gluten free has not freed me from allergies yet, however. And when I think of how I constructed all these collages, I feel a little stopped up. The rubber cement evaporated in my sinus cavities. Glue stick is good, but it can take the finish off magazine slick.

Still, I love the process of putting one image on top of another. When I return to painting, as I plan to do soon, I will miss the ease with which I could construct something by merely trying it out in one spot, then another, before gluing it down and calling it a day.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Strictly visual. But my fear of flying must have oozed in doing this one.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Wild Horses. I read somewhere a long time ago that the Rolling Stones’ song was written about one of the band members having his first child and refusing to play at one of their concerts.

It is a romantic thought. How true it is, I don’t know, but when I hear the song rarely, like in a Walmart or Target, I do think wistfully that there is something nice going on. That beneath all the scruff and electric guitar, a new life came first.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Ah, black slips! My grandmother liked to get dressed up, make-up, hair (naturally dark, down to her waist, up in a bun.) Earrings. She was considered bohemian because she was a concert organist and pianist. And she loved hanging out in her black slip.

She played for silent movies when she was twelve. And later in her life, she played piano in the saloons of her native Montana. She played for drinks, which she hid at her feet. (She brought lidded jelly glasses from home and she would pour the drinks into them after “last call.”)

My grandmother would come to visit us when we lived in Pennsylvania and Connecticut, staying a month at a time. She’s sit around all dressed up, makeup and hair in place, jewelry too and would remain in her black slip all day. Playing cards and greeting our neighbors.

When she went back home to Montana, I heard she even mowed her lawn in her black slip.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Another ballet collage. My daughter is in preprofessional ballet; I don’t think my awareness would have included this imagery if that were not so. Some of my favorite ballet pieces are these “partnering” dances (the French expression, I do not know how to spell) and the melodies are often plaintive and so beautiful, that they have moved me to tears.