Waking up this morning in country Connecticut. A torrential heavy, heavy downpour, cats and dogs do not apply here. This was tropical, Shakespearean, nearly biblical, in its thrust and manner. The rain so heavy and steady kept the puppies sleeping and me awake. The internet is down, the TV is down, the iPhone does not work. Luckily the coffee machine does and did, and the lights most important.
What to do now I thought? I grabbed an umbrella and marched up the green slope of a hill to my studio where, no matter what the wreckage of the night has been, dreams tossing pillows all over the bed, I could find my sanctuary, my place of calm and contemplation. So I began without much ado to put together a checkerboard like cake painting on paper. Stacked cakes I have been calling them. This one a pale yellow in some quadrants and a creme white in others, alternating pale yellow with creme, back and forth and back and forth, curiously the pale yellow was very close in color to the Alfa Romeo that I own, as the story ties together a trade we made for a painting with a collector on the lake who loved my work.
The stacked cake painting, yellow and creme with white, now waits for me, not me for it, but it for me. Up in the studio as the rain finishes what it does, what it is meant to do and the TV still sleeps as do the puppies. Shortly I will get up, grab my coffee and march up the hill and paint this stacked cake, pale yellow and creme with white. Come hell or high water, the work goes on.