I woke up this morning and I realized that all my life when I see the word THANKSGIVING my mind conjures up visions of a big turkey tons of food.  Being tortured by my drunk uncle making jokes about me being chubby.  Never felt like I belonged in this family.  I believe an alien species delivered me to them.  Sort of a strange version of the birth of Christ.   Not that I am the daughter of God.  

My whole life was spent trying to sleep through holidays but especially this day.  It’s not the turkey saying Gobble Gobble it was me doing the Gobble to avoid being uncomfortable around people.   The morning after I experienced a food hangover and was resigned to wearing elastic waistbands for a week.   Of course with that comes LOW SELF ESTEEM. That usually lasts longer running to the gym daily doing 2 hour workouts.  

STOP!!! I want today to be different.  I am renaming today GRATITUDE GIVING DAY!!

Today is the day I will be grateful for everything about the truth of this celebration.   And then I started to research the story of the humble Pilgrims engaging happily with Native Indians.  As one 5th grader said they were “Besties”.  Not true kids.  Here’s the lowdown. My history books lied.  

These foreign intruders moved into Plymouth and took over. They would go through Indian homes taking whatever they wanted and left some beads in exchange. They dug up Indian burial sites.  When they found bowls, trinkets, trays that were buried with the bodies it was up for grabs to them. The friendly Pilgrims removed all the beautiful objects for their own.  They left the upturned burial site with exposed dead Indian bodies destroyed.  NICE!!  HAPPY THANKSGIVING FOLKS???

Alright I don’t want to dredge up bad memories.   America has been playing the THANKSGIVING GAME too long for me to bring up truth.  I want to celebrate the country with my friends here today and thank them for being my friends. 



I have to reinforce this.  To myself and others.  I have a special talent and skill and it needs to be compensated for.  A lot of non profit organizations try to get me to volunteer my services.   When they ask me to create a flyer for them they don’t realize the work that is involved.  Actually, I never realized how much work I have been doing for free thinking it’s not a big deal.  Well recently I did a lot of free creative work for my congregation.   I was never thanked for the service I did.  Nor was the congregation aware of my creative contributions.   A member finally monetized my work.   I have given my time away for free.  I made my talent and skill not important. So I have given into the belief that art is not that important.  I spent almost 4 plus hours creating and designing advertising that will bring in business.  I give a professional product that will attract attention. 

And I have not been given credit or appreciation from these organizations.  So I am posting the flyers that I gave away for free.  And from now on I will be paid either with money or a service or membership payment.   

Here are some of my promotional projects. 



My mind is still spinning.   How did so many people drink the Kool Aid????   We’ve lost our minds.   

The challenge is existing in a country run by a narcissistic sexual predator for 4 years.   I’ve been afraid to post my feelings of this election but this is MY blog so I can do whatever I want.   However, I’m not going to give attention to the future “Not My President “.  

As an artist I am guided to help the pain in the world by creating beauty again.   I don’t want to do anything political in art.  I want to paint serenity in a time of darkness.  My art has never been motivated by politics.  My paintings are to escape insanity and to remind people that there is beauty.   

I’m a mature artist so I will leave politics for the younger generation.  The generation that tells me my art is “over the couch art “.   Great I’ll take that market.   I’m not proud.   A lot of people like pretty paintings. 

Anyway, my point is the lack of creativity and culture in our country created this mess.  A creative mind would never have been led down this path.  The mind that thinks creatively would see and hear the bullshit.  The way out was limited but the choice made was a misinformed one.   

A creative mind sees a bigger picture.  A creative mind experiences life with multiple options.  It is not led by others. That’s why people think artists are strange.   Different.   

My mission is to get people to start creating.  I want them to start to think like an artist.  No talent needed.  Just an open mind.  Unlock imagination.   Let go of fear and worry.  Look at beauty again.  Love people.  Stop comparing. Stop complaining.   The call to action is start thinking about what’s really important to you and your community.  Don’t go down the rabbit hole with toxic people.  No one has the power to take away your thinking. Your decisions.  Your life. Your country.   We gave over our power and listened to lies.  We only heard what we wanted.   

As an artist I have to get people to get their own minds back teaching them creativity.   I have to create paintings of beauty.   


A few of my “over the couch” paintings. 


I used to love dolls as a child in the 1950’s/60’s.  Of course I had 6 or 7 Barbie dolls.  But there was one doll my mother gave me that she would not let me play with.  That doll sat in the box and she kept it squirreled away in her bedroom closet.   This doll was a Madame Alexander collectible called Cissy.  The doll would be taken out once a month to look at.   Another strange thing is the doll never had any doll clothes.  Nothing.   This is weird because the doll only wore underwear.  It was fancy but not fun to look at all the time. 

After I moved out of my mother’s home I forgot about my Cissy doll I couldn’t play with. I was 17 and over dolls.  Mom kept her forever after in the box like the strange doll she always was.  Here is what my so-called Cissy doll looked like. 

Cissy is worth a lot of money today.  But I forgot about her because my mom kept her hidden in her closet till the day she finally ended up in a nursing home.   I think she was a creepy doll.   Why did my mother give me a doll I couldn’t have???   You figure. 

So in the 1920’s there was a trend of grown women collecting interesting and strange dolls. Some were called boudoir dolls because they sat on beds.  I found a lot of strange doll photos from the era.   Boy a lot of weird things going on in that era.  Take a look. 

But this phenomenon had a sinister male here and there. ..  YIKES 


I have been blessed to live in a very special area of the Bronx.  It’s two years of an amazing community that grows around me every day.  I lost my home in 2014 and lost my job. I was broke with no idea how I would find an apartment in NYC.  But here I am living in a fairy land Riverdale.  An artist dream on the Hudson River.   
I am exploring Riverdale history.  I found a pond called Indian Pond on Indian Road. Filled with large turtles.  The history of this pond is in the 19th century it actually was an Indian Settlement granted to them by the government.  The Indian group used to perform shows on the pond for the people who had homes there.  A big crowd would attend and watch as Hiawatha was performed.  Other acting groups would perform shows as well.  The Indian Settlement was moved further up North in the early 20th century.  No surprise there. 

Here’s Indian Pond today.