For nearly five years, Tom and I dreamed of learning to kiteboard. Afterall we live near Hood River, in the Columbia gorge, arguably one of the top kiteboarding locations in the world. We were captivated by the grace, power, and skill it takes to harness the wind and skim across the water. And when you hit the wind just right, you manage to choke down the kitemares of uncontrolled wind, and you hold both the kite and your confidence in a solid grip, it is magical. It is also incredibly punishing, as for us, most of that time was spent in repetitive thrashings. During a trip to Isla Blanca a peninsula along the Caribbean Sea on one side and Chacmuchuch lagoon on the other, we surrendered to lessons. My instructor, Elgi, was Turkish and hadn’t seen a shower in quite some time, but he was patient, kind, and possessed the sort of hippie-dippie demeanor I much prefer in sports instructors..

Despite Elgi’s pleasant, relaxed manner, I remained tense during our lessons, even after a couple years under my belt of trying to learn in the Hook of Hood River. Finally, after another attempt to get me to “breathe” and “relax on the board,” he pulled on my kite, which in turn, jerked me off the board. “See Heedee,” he said, “you are so tense, like this,” he mimed playing a guitar, evidently a very uptight, taut guitar. “Heedee, you need to find your harmony.”

And Elgi was right. I needed to find my harmony, but not just in kiting, in everything.

That harmony for me is in trying on new hobbies and experiences, letting go of an outcome expectation and just playing with paint, or glass, or learning how to create skincare from my garden botanicals. Creative exploration gives me structure and peace, a way to get out of my head and into my hands.

Here are a few examples of where I’ve found harmony. For me, it is permission to be a beginner, embracing creativity without needing to excel, and finding joy in the process rather than the outcome.

TEDDY is an oil and is my parent’s dog.  He’s a Havanese-mix and although he is a little dog, he has a big, bubbly personality. So I added some texture to the background and onto the frame to support this fella’s charm.

PENNY MARSH is an oil for my former guitar instructor, Bill Marsh. I took lessons from Bill for three months to learn Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ‘n Roll” so I could perform it at Convocation to accompany a speech about the importance of taking risks and being willing to fail. Penny attended every lesson, providing a little moral support alongside Bill’s excellent instruction. His résumé was intimidating: he has performed with Pink Martini as a relief guitarist, regularly plays with Edna Vazquez, and teaches at Willamette University. The speech went well. The guitar solo? Not so much. I completely biffed my big moment playing “I Love Rock ‘n Roll.” As it turns out, nerves do not support a steady hand.
The students rewarded the effort with a standing ovation, not because I played it perfectly, but because I was willing to risk failing in front of them. Those Pacific Boxers…they’re good dogs.

ADDIE AND GRACIE is an oil painting of our beloved Cocker Spaniel and Golden Retriever, I painted for Tom for his birthday.  They are our most precious girls.  The photos places them on the deck of our old floating home along the Columbia River.

SCOUT is also an oil on canvas and Penny’s “brother.” He embodied the classic Boston Terrier formula: boundless heart, unwavering confidence, and far more chutzpah than his size would suggest.

PENNY was Scout’s sister-from-another-mister, both of whom were our friends’ Brock and Ryan’s furbabies. They were also pals to Addie and Gracie. Penny unlike most Vizslas, was a calm lady and just such a little love barnacle. Both she and Gracie lay side-by-side under a Rose of Sharon on Harmony Farm.

MILES is an oil on canvas, and like his namesake, Miles Davis, he possessed an effortless cool. He was every bit the energetic Aussie, but hand him a stick and a beach, and the rest of the world simply faded away. You could almost hear him say, “So What?”

HEMINGWAY was also an oil on canvas and my mother’s dog. The rose is my mother’s favorite flower and has been symbolic for her of all the people she’s lost: her dad (yellow rose), her mom (a pink rose), and “Hemmie” was her absolute shadow, it took her years to get over his passing, so he earned the red rose.

STEWART, is an oil on canvas, and at the time of the painting, this Wheaton Terrier was 14 years old. Diabetic, deaf, and almost completely blind, the beach resurrected Stewart’s puppy spirit.

BELLA is an oil on canvas. Bella is one of those magical stories, where it is hard not to imagine the hand of fate tipping the scales. Bella was abandoned on Highway 84 as a puppy. Dehydrated and exhausted, she sat on the side of the busy highway until our friends, Selah and Andrew Painter, drove by. Andrew stopped the car, called to her and despite the hard knocks she had endured so far, she trusted the tender, warm nature of our friends. Standing on wobbly legs, looking ever the ASPCA poster puppy, her big eyes entreated them to take her home and offer her a better future. Which they of course, they did.

PIPER AND CHARLIE are also an oil on canvas. Both passed away within a couple years of each other and broke the hearts of their parents, Rod and Scott. Rod had spent so many hours peopling and domesticating these sweet street dogs from San Antonio, Texas.

JAMIE AND MICHAEL (2018), these portraits were for Jamie (July) and Michael (June) in honor of their 40th birthdays. The reference photos were from circa mid-1980s and I FREAKING LOVE Michael’s posture. He is such a measured, mild mannered guy, this picture reflects his inner hero energy. I did not do it justice, but it brought me such joy to paint the little boy version of my friend.

BRUCE was a figure model for Rokoff Studio, formerly on Mississippi Avenue in North Portland. I loved his energy, this was his most casual dress, most of the time he was sporting a suit for a sitting. Sadly Bruce passed from cancer, so it brings me joy to have a little momento of this kind man. If ever someone stumbles upon this website and recognizes the portrait and knows his family, please contact me. I won’t pretend this is any great work of art, but if it would bring a smile to his family, I would love to give it to them.

LEO is a watercolor, and was my aunt Liz’s little feline stunner.

PICOLINA is also a watercolor, and although her name means “Little One” in Italian, her gratitude was huge. She was from the sulfuric streets of Nicolosi in Sicily, at the base of Mt. Etna, where my parents lived for just over a decade. At one time, they had 15 adopted Italian strays. Picolina was one of four that decided it was time to retire from the streets and spent the rest of their years with trimmed cutlets and sleeping spots on my parents’ bed.

STAINED GLASS – I regret using shells in these pieces. At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate the ecological and ethical concerns associated with the commercial shell trade.