With a one-man show scheduled in Maine in July 2008, I'm busy painting.  In the past three days, I've started five new, large-ish oil landscapes.  All of them are in their earliest stages, barely ready to show online. 


Here's one of them.  It shows dawn along northern coastal Maine, near the Canadian border. I'm trying to work with simple areas of color and tone before adding details.  The canvas is 18" x 36" and I expect to work on this painting at least two more days. 

I'm really enjoying the challenge of working with larger canvases, and learning from this experience.

I paint with water-soluble oils.  They combine the longevity and natural colors of traditional oil paints, without the problems of toxic thinners such as turpentine.

Recently, prompted by The Nag, I wrote to The GAP about their company's impact on the environment.

This morning, I received a reply to my email, and a link to their Social Responsibility policies.  Honestly, I had no idea that The GAP does this sort of thing. 

Of course, any company can say things like this, but the depth of their programs suggests that The GAP is doing what they can to improve our planet. 

Here's their Social Responsibility page:
http://www.gapinc.com/public/SocialResponsibility/socialres.shtml

Hexayurts are dancing through my brain this morning...

I'm not sure if it's because we're planning a major move and lifestyle change, or if it's just an idea whose time has come:  I keep seeing wonderful resources for alternative, affordable housing.

Earlier this week, I found PowerPods, which look like a great option for cozy living or a guest cottage.  I'd also like to use one as an art gallery.  The main room would be the gallery area, and the back room (bedroom) would be the office.

The price, ease of setup, and energy savings make this a very attractive choice.

Yesterday, I learned about hexayurts.  [Hexayurt Project]

It's a sort of a combination of yurt + geodesic dome, costing a couple of hundred dollars (and just a few hours) to build.  It may be a notch up from living in a tent... but it's a major notch upward in the direction of durability and comfort.  (I'm not sure that I could live in a tent for months, but I could definitely live in a hexayurt.)

Initially, I looked at the hexayurt and thought, "Cool.  Modified, a hexayurt could be a fabulous pavilion for encampments and other events."  It's even more affordable than many canvas pavilions.

Then, I started thinking of the rural land that my husband and I want to buy and build a house on.  The hexayurt could be fine temporary housing while we're working on the new house.  And, phased into permanence, it's a viable guest cottage. 

Of course, that led to a discussion with friends and even a developer of the hexayurt, with all kinds of "what if" ideas for using a hexayurt as a permanent structure. 

I have no idea where this is going.  My eyes lit up when "hexayurt" at LiveJournal said, "I've often envisaged a repopulation of the rural parts of America by freaks in yurts."

There's something about that phrase, "freaks in yurts" that re-energized a creative vision for me.  I haven't heard the word "freaks" used that way in... well, in practically forever.  I like to think that our original, altruistic hippie dreams weren't entirely lost.

But, now I'm thinking in "back to the land" terms again, and about living off-the-grid with a restored sense of what's really important. 

I was also encouraged when I heard a podcast with economist Paul Zane Pilzer describe  homebased businesses as one of the most viable business models for the future.  I flinch when I see Wal-Mart ads, these days.  I miss "mom and pop" stores, and the personal connections that Pilzer talks about.

"Quality of life" is far deeper than how much stuff we own.  But, maybe we had to reach the point of owning too much stuff to realize that.

And then there are the "new rich" concepts in the book, The 4-Hour Work Week, which are more about lifestyle than money.  They're a radical shift from tradition. 

As I see it, this all fits together.  By totally rethinking our habits and default lifestyle choices, we can independently change our culture to something vastly better... more connected with each other, with the land, and with our deepest and most profound dreams.

I'm very excited about all of this.  Affordable housing choices--even temporary structures--are a huge first step towards a radical cultural change for the better. 

Many people knew Merv Griffin as the man who created the TV game shows, 'Jeopardy' (and as the composer of the famous tune that's played during Final Jeopardy) and 'Wheel of Fortune'.

I knew him as a friend. We used to meet each afternoon at a little grocery store next door to my Las Palmas apartment in Hollywood. I'm not sure whether he was on his way to or from his talk show; his TV studio was just a few blocks away.

He seemed to buy fresh produce each day, just as I did. (My husband and I didn't have much money, and we thrived on great, fresh salads.)

The produce aisle is where Merv and I would swap notes on the quality and prices of lettuce, avocados, tomatoes, and so on. I remember him telling me about an avocado tree near his house. He described it as if he was outlining a scene for a movie. He had tremendous flair.

Merv Griffin is the person who insisted that I had to try making pizza from scratch, and he led me around the store, pointing out the best ingredients. It took me awhile to believe him, but when I finally tried his suggestions, I was impressed. (I may have to try making pizza again. I haven't made it since the very early 1980s.)

Merv was a short, jolly man with a twinkle in his eye. He seemed perpetually cheerful and profoundly sincere. He never acted like he was someone important, and he never gave me his name. I never asked; he was immediately recognizable.

I've often thought of him since then, because he was such fun to talk with. He always had something interesting to say, and he was always enthusiastic. I was sorry when we moved away and didn't see Merv again.

Merv Griffin died this weekend at age 82, jovial to the end. When he checked into the hospital a couple of weeks ago, hoping to get his prostate cancer under control again, he joked that he was "ready for a vacation, but this wasn't the destination I had in mind."

Merv was a visionary and a delightful man. He will be missed. I'm so glad that I had a chance to know him as a friend.

I'm reading Oil Painting: The Workshop Experience.  In it, the author talked about the importance of painting miles of canvas, for experience.

I thought about that and realized that one acquires more than experience by painting that much.  The simple study of the subject--whether it's something external or internal--offers an opportunity for amazingly increased awareness.

Maybe the process of creating art--regardless of its merit upon completion--is more important than the art itself.

Several of our friends are talking about moving.   A few months ago, we decided that we'll move early in 2008.

We're going to New England for its history, recreational opportunities, four-season climate and natural beauty.  Others are talking about the Pacific Northwest, Ireland, France, and the rural U.K.  These aren't retirement moves; they're lifestyle choices.

I'm not certain if it's a bad thing to focus on where you really want to live, as opposed to where your job takes you every few years.

Sure, I'm troubled by the growing sense of confinement as fewer people are able to travel for recreation.  There's been a note of panic in some of these conversations.  For many people, the upcoming move--whether it's practical or not--seems to have an urgency in it.  Between the lines, I'm hearing, "What if I'm stuck where I am now?"

What I like is the way that it's forcing people to look at their lives in the context of where they live.  They're looking at the bigger picture and the quality of life, relative to their environments.

Regardless of the reasons why we're each moving, I think that this is taking us in the direction of authenticity and happiness. 

Instead of "going with the flow," we're each recovering a sense of personal identity and making broad changes as necessary to find contentment. 

I think that this is a quiet trend, in a way.  It sounds radical to say, "I'm moving just because I want to live there."  Some grasp at justifications, such as a new job or to be nearer to aging family members. 

But, as they keep talking, it comes back to the simple statement, "I just want to live there."  And, no other excuse is necessary.

Between Houston and Katy, Texas, a huge city park provides greenspace for those who drive or bicycle through it.  

It's called George Bush Park, named for the previous President Bush.  The acreage is a mix of wetlands, wooded areas, grassy fields, and some dedicated areas such as the Millie Bush Bark Park and several soccer fields.

A few weeks ago, after heavy rains, the park flooded as usual. 

However, this time the water didn't go down right away.  In fact, many areas of the park are still closed to public access. 

We've driven through the park every weekday for the past three years, and we've never seen water levels like this, yet the flooding isn't mentioned in local news reports. 

My husband and I speculate that the slower drainage is due to the increased use of local lands, largely by new strip malls and adjoining parking lots that generally sit empty once they're completed.  There's simply not as much land available to encourage the water to drain naturally.

Since there is no real zoning in Houston, we're not sure if anyone needs permission to uproot trees, plow under the plants, and cover the land with paving.   Literally every day, we see more trees and open land vanishing in favor of greed.  Retail may be faltering here, but commercial land development is still booming.

We've discovered something wonderful during our daily commutes:  Bush Park has been reclaimed by wildlife.  Every day, we see deer, wild pigs (boars?), and far more herons and other birds than we've seen in the past.

The water is finally receding.  Today, for the first morning in many weeks, we saw no wild pigs.  That made us a little sad. 

We're moving away from Houston next year.  It's too hot and too paved, and--for us--the quality of life has deteriorated rapidly in recent years.  If we were more committed to Houston, we might stay here and support positive changes.

Instead, we're counting the days until we can leave.  We're heading to New England, which is where I grew up.

We're glad that we had a chance to see genuine wildlife in George Bush Park, for a few weeks anyway.  When we see wild pigs, deer, and increased birds in the Park, we wonder if Nature is doing her best to restore balance to this area.

And, we're watching the skies for more rain.

Today, I was thinking that I'd like a blog where I can talk about some of the weird and quirky ideas that cross my mind. 

I'm not sure how much I take them seriously, but I generally want to voice them, if only to re-read later myself ,and see how predictive they were.