Wednesday, October 29, 2014

A Painting I Like

Mirroring the human life cycle, my day started all fresh and full of promise and had pretty much fallen apart by the end.  I'm hoping to salvage a little light by posting a painting I like.  August 30, 2014, Grant Park in Pasadena, looking across Cordova at some mid-century apartment buildings not quite obscuring the mountain view.

It's late, but I need to stay up and constantly monitor what will probably be the last load of laundry I can eek out of my failed washing machine.  I need a new washer.  I'm overwhelmed by the selection.  There must be  hundreds of different washers on the market.  Probably any of them would be fine.  They all seem too expensive and too complex.  Seriously, I don't think my clothes and linens could possibly detect more than three different temperatures or spin speeds.  Just more little sensors that will undoubtedly fail long before the motor wants to quit.  My dying washer only lasted ten years.  The repairman and sales people tell me that's not bad.  It seems to me that things like washing machines used to last much longer.  Or is it just that ten years used to seem long?   You, lovely people, can help me.  If you or anybody you know has purchased a washer lately and feels okay about it, please let me know what washer it is.

I don't keep a journal, and I don't see a counselor.  I don't talk to my friends enough.  So sometimes I want to vent here in blog world.  I think that's all right as long as I don't get too personal.  I kind of want to rant about my health and my job and my love life.  But I think the washing machine is a better idea.


  1. I like this painting very much, too. And I think I have a friend who lives in that building. When my washer bit the dust, I took to the laundromat. It was going to be a temporary solution, but now I guess it's permanent. There's a woman there who will do it for me when I'm feeling rich. But then, I'm a minimalist; I never got my dishwasher fixed, either.

  2. A new favorite. Trust me, I'm looking at this one with an attentive eye. It's got a Richard Diebenkorn kind of vibe going on; beautifully constructed. You should try to get this one shown. I know of a place that might work for you.

    It's interesting to note our differences here. You work really well in this tall narrow format. In grad school I remember being cold cocked in a crit when one of my fellows questioned why I all my work tended to be wide and narrow (like a billboard). The obvious answer was my work in murals. But his inquiry kept eating away at me. I think it has to do with the perspective of the mountains, the sweep and the east / west movement of Colorado blvd. Kind of like my attraction to the work of cinematographer James Wong Howe. Maybe I'm overthinking this but then, maybe I'm not.

  3. I was telling an artist friend about your work. Showed her this painting last night. She looked at me with that look that artist give each other. It's the look that doesn't require words.

  4. Barbara, this piece turned out beautifully! And the washer situation has improved...!