Thank you to so many friends who have been steadily at my side through this protracted and difficult passage, one that I am still struggling through. (A bit more about my condition can be found here.) I had a second neurosurgical procedure in June and was told that my eyes will need another six months to heal. That puts recovery into December if all goes well.
As is often the case, things come at us in clumps. While I was struggling with the loss of my vision I was informed that I would have to move out of my studio of 22 years. South Boston, like so many neighborhoods in major urban areas, has transformed very quickly from a forgotten corner to a hip zip code. I knew this would happen some day, I just wasn’t certain when.
So the disruption in my life feels karmic, not coincidental. As artists we are always searching for the vision of how to create our best work. I view the loss of my physical vision as well as my creative space as a huge opportunity to invite something new to appear.
So I thank the space on First Street that has held me and my work for so many years. It served as a sanctuary, a quietly cloistered retreat, a sacred place for what was coming into form. It first came to me by way of Marcia Goodwin and was custom designed with such brilliance by Gerald Horne. Every one of you who visited me there left a mark. Most recently it was the visit of my four year old granddaughter Siena that pierced me profoundly. She came so we could paint and draw together in the last days of that space. In the midst of that visit she said to me, “A studio is a place where you can do whatever you want.” Yes, Siena, and I am open to whatever that may be.
Thank you to friends who are helping me as the dismantling has begun. In September I begin again in a studio in Waltham, just outside Boston.