My first angel appeared in 1998: "Angel of Free Spirits." At the end of that year, I retired as founding editor of Mental Health World, painting full time since then, volunteering to help raise awareness of spiritual freedom through art.
Between September 4, 2001, and November 28, 2001, lung cancer went through my sister like wildfire. Nothing was left unsaid between us, our respect, admiration and love for each other acknowledged. While my younger brother and I were losing her, I was painting full time, late into the night, as I had done since ‘99. By mid-October, fear took away my breath upon awakening, until learning whether or not my sister survived another night. I discovered that painting absorbed crippling fear. I couldn't paint when lymphoma and breast cancer were killing our parents in the '80s; that's why I lost my mind back then. My first Guardian angel arrived in December 2001, and finished in January. This guardian glides through heaven, his hands clasped in prayer at his heart. Some have likened this angel to my lover in those years, others to Jesus Christ. Until they mentioned these "likenesses," I'd been aware only of the interactions of color, intersections increasing depth.
In the fall of 2004, I left Buffalo, New York, to be near my adorable, younger brother, who embodied the finest qualities of our parents and sister. We hadn't lived in this kind of proximity in 40 plus years. Figuring out my new home left me with enough energy to make oil pastels on paper. Two more angels appeared in ‘04: "The Dancer" and "The Hostess." "Joyriding," white-haired and somersaulting against a sun-bright sky greeted 2005.
A woman bowed and kneeling in prayer came into being as winter gripped February, a new Guardian of Souls.
That July, while dog and cat-sitting for my brother and his wife at their handsome country home, a new angel showed up on paper in oil pastel. She was looking down, as if she were waiting for the rest of her group, or so I thought at the time.
August 27, 2005, my beloved brother unexpectedly died of a massive heart attack. We didn't know that his heart was endangered. The shock of losing him like that suspended me in grief, knocking the wind out of me. His sudden death gave no time to fear and when the pain of losing him threatened to overwhelm me, memory gave me the small, sweet smile with which he greeted eternity. That same dear smile was his as an infant. When not with family and friends, I organized my web site, distraction 101. It never occurred to me to paint until the night of October fourth, his birthday. A new small work of an angel landed on paper, wings open, hovering upright, hands together in prayer, the last creation of that year: "Angels 2005: The Guardian." And the angel that came to me in July became "Looking for Michael."
One last angel came to canvas in spring 2006, but after three different incarnations in need of further development, she has yet to lure me back to her. I think that this is a good sign.
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