music

I wrote this piece in 1996, when I was ill, actually quite ill. I did not know I was so ill, even though I felt absolutely horrible all of the time. I was afraid to go to the doctor. Also, I was in a strange place, an artist colony north of Chicago, where I had been given a residency. I had a deadline, I had to finish the piece, and I did finish it in time. As soon as I had finished, I left and went back to New York, not using my allotted time at the artist colony. When I came back to New York I got even sicker, and ended up in the hospital. When I listen to the piece now, I am reminded of how I felt during that time. I wonder if a listener, listening, can sense that too. I am happy with this piece, but I do feel it has an unbalanced, disconcerting quality to it.

I did this painting the previous summer, in 1995, when I was in Maine on Swans Island. There, I could paint outside. I had my cats with me. Tuna did not like going outside, but Pomona loved it. This is a partial view; the actual painting is taller than this.