Corona Diary

by | Apr 25, 2020 | The Hungry Eye

Almost three weeks inside except for a few walks to the local park where people & their dogs interlace the beginnings of Spring…’s been me, the cats, & the painting wall.  I haven’t figured out anything about the world or myself.  I’m decidedly wierd and am unsure of the shape of this wierdness.  So I paint & meander in my alotted space. I’d thought to work small due to storage issues.  There are no blank walls here.  Even outside in the hallway there are paintings.  Initially when I launched into smallness I did several watercolors of the flowers left over from my friend, Sally, and my Apocalypse Intermission party the first week of February (oh so long ago):

Single Red

9 x 12

Single White

15 X 18

Roses & Sally’s Curtain

12 X 16

White Roses

22 x 30

and one quickie oil, 16 x 20:

I then shifted to sky/ocean images, thinking I would do a series in oil…


12 x 16


12 x 16

Grey/Lime 2

12 x 16

Grey/Lime 3

12 x 16


22 x 30

At my focus began to unravel so I pulled out an old collage from 1995 and reworked it.  The 1918 is actually 2 leaves from a Chinese calender (March 18 & 19, 2020).  The obvious reference to the 1918 Flu Pandemic was unintentional….but there it is along with scribbles, rhinestones leftover from my circus days, a bit of foreign currency & a scrap of Chinese embroidered silk,

18 X 24:

From there I lunged to a childhood memory of an autumn whirlwind of leaves & acorns. It is one of my more ecstatic memories. In the process of painting it took on a whole other narrative that I realized, upon completion, is my version of Harold and the Purple Crayon.
(Meanwhile the news pummels me from my phone & my phone conversations. The weird shape is definitely evolving.)

18 X 24:

And then waves…..
18 X 24:

watercolor wave
15 X 20:

wonky limey & pink
16 X 16:

stripey wave
10 X 14:

(The news just layers its disasters, while people madly communicate online across the city, the country, & the oceans. Hello…hello, are you all OK??)

….then I go back to my young self, the little Mia, & find her in the forest

listening to light
12 X 12: