June 2020 Last light at the crabbing hole Oil on Panel 12 x 18 inches

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Corona Journal entry In principle I had time this evening. But I spent a very ridiculous amount of it looking for a spot/light I could work with (creeping goal line). Also did a little photo essay on drainage issues in the marsh behind the farm which seems to be losing a battle for survival. Many distractions. Finally settled on a spot with less than an hour before the sun was down. Scrambling to understand what was happening and what idea to chase – and how to do it rough and quick but make it count. Called Angelique as I was setting up. Thank goodness. The evening was salvaged with or without a painting. My Corona escape-away to pencils & paints [nearly] every evening has been enlightening, rewarding, uncomfortable, indulgent, luxurious, joyful, exhausting and exhilarating. I know these precious days are numbered. I think my indecision tonight was founded on that intensifying awareness. Also it was an emotional and exhausting day. On the painting front, I have leapt into unknown territory and deconstructed old patterns and assumptions. Broke away. I knew that I knew nothing. Initially I was just grateful and happy to be out working. But now I have glimmers of what it is I would really like to know, as a painter, and a sense about the place I would like to break through to. I have deconstructed but not yet managed a coming together. With time I could get there. § I whipped up this sign before my ride today and got 53 miles on it, stopping to participate in rallies in Old Saybrook, Clinton and Madison. Surprised at how few drivers registered any notice or reaction at all. I wish I could have talked to everyone who drove by me on (super busy) Route 1 to understand what their experience is and what they thought, if anything, when they read my body poster. Did I have any positive impact? There were the occasional enthusiastic toots and thumbs up but fewer than I hoped. I was really after the folks who aren’t already on board. They wouldn’t have tooted but were they noticing the sea change? Can there be a sea change without them? The Saybrook rally filled two long blocks. It also filled me with emotion - a powerful punch of it. I felt the intensity of today against the backdrop of my own history with that place and the 400 years of history. The crowd was chanting. Signs ranged across the social justice spectrum of demands. No justice, no peace. I can’t breath. Say their names. I thought of the wealth and power derived from shipping and trade, slave trade included, and then industrialization that built more wealth and more sea walls and more barriers to access. I am sure I haven’t seen that many people in Old Saybrook since GramPa Roger, an Army Colonel and veteran of several wars, used to lead the Memorial Day Parade. I had no idea what that meant. My right arm for a chance to talk with him and other departed family, Mom & Dad at the top of the list, about current events and their life experiences now that I have logged so many years of my own and have a way to even begin to comprehend.