June 2003, I turned sixty. Not an age I dreaded, nothing traumatic. Until I entered the Mount Auburn Hospital for a routine mammogram. For the first time ever I heard myself say "Well, Judith, this is the place where you will probably die."
The test results were fine: nothing wrong, everything normal. However, the acknowledgment that my life was two thirds lived, and I was living on that one-third edge, stirred me. The enclosed paintings are about aging: the feelings encountered while living my life when others are still living the first two-thirds of theirs.
- "Invisible" is the reality of feeling faded and unseen.
- "Beauty in gray," the newly arrived weather with which the eye acknowledges and appreciates.
- "Ripened Irises" (see below).
- "Old Houses Need Paint" the issue of fading looks and high maintenance.
- "Letting Go" is about resting into it, as in wearing comfortable shoes.
- "Pour me The Ocean " about the glass one-third full.
- "Packed" the issue of leaving, being dependent, the terror of becoming the Bag Lady.
In winter I work in my studio from my mind's eye or still life. The annual transition from studio to outdoors is launched with a painting of the terracotta-toned Dutch Irises I grow in my garden, Ripened Irises.
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