As twenty something offspring shoot off like morning glory vines, spiraling away, climbing toward the sun and away from us the parents, well, there is a great emptiness and sadness. I am employing all the usual suspects: good food, yoga, teaching art and being connected to others, coconut sorbet, coffee (well can't be perfect) and probably most importantly - studio time. I am going through my piles of painted papers and assembling quick collages that I think of as drawings. I work on several at once. I was questioning why I needed so many hours a day to get into the groove of making (a minimal of 4 hours really helps) but now I think I understand that this process is akin to being a jazz musician. Now, I have never been a jazz musician but I would imagine that it helps to play A LOT to get into the improvisational pull of the music. This is where I want to be: in a improvisational trance, letting go and allowing my intuition and body to take over. I want to let go. I've seen it done, in Helen Frankenthalers stain paintings, in Matisse, in Lucien Freud. They let go, they did not hold back. I want a taste of this creative abandon. This is real rest from the mind, the past, the worry, and the grief that can be such an old habit. Yesterday I touched on a few moments of this freedom and I was able to celebrate that my youngest is having the time of his life with four companions in Athens. By tapping into the universal flow of music & creativity that unites us all I could let go and sightsee in my own beautiful ruins.