Big floods, good chocolate

It rained like the end of the world Saturday. Water was running UP our little hill. It flowed off roofs in solid sheets. One town over, flash floods had people standing on the roofs of their stalled cars. Traffic ground to a halt, and streets turned into rivers.

Wndsor Street - outside the Taza Chocolate Factory

Taza Chocolate factory, a great little business, was 16 inches deep in water:

retail Store

They had just remodeled: no flood insurance. (Who expects to be flooded out in the middle of a city?) Production capacity has shut down, and cash flow is a challenge. The good news is, their inventory was on the second floor.

Drywall damage 16inches high

So if you like a good cause, a scrappy young business, and good chocolate, buy some Taza Chocolate. So they can keep making great, mindful chocolate, come hell or high water.

Watch video from Channel 5 about Taza and the Somerville flash floods here.

In Memoriam

John and Amber in the studio. Photo by Ashlee Welz Smith

John Greenwald, painter and colleague, died yesterday. He worked across the hall from me at Western Avenue Studios. He always had a smile, a critique, an opinion, a welcoming hand to share. I miss him so much.

Here is his own description of how he got started. To enjoy his rich, energetic work, visit his website, please.

I drew my first nude as a 16-year-old high schooler in New York City in 1959. A classmate took a small group of us to open life drawing at the famous Art Students League in Manhattan. There, for less than a dollar, we drew the figure for two hours with a few dozen other artists.

I had never seen a live nude model before, but after a minute or so of trepidation, I began to draw. And immediately I was hooked. There was something about the abstract beauty of the figure — plus the model's inherent humanness, sensuality and personality — that I wanted to capture.

In time, I saw the figure as a template for experiments in color, expression, abstraction and playfulness. That's where I am now, using the figure to explore a wide visual vocabulary. People have called me an abstract painter, an expressionist, a fauve, a colorist and Matisse-like. Who knows?

Some of the artists where I have my studio, in Western Avenue Studios in Lowell, Mass., wonder why I use different models. “All his models look alike,” they say. But I need models. They are my collaborators, whose style and personalities influence my paintings as much as their torsos, limbs and faces.

AM with paint

When something seems a little off, try turning it upside down. This is the piece I posted yesterday, rotated and reworked with acrylics. Who knows where it will stop?



Instead of production sewing, I kept painting. I am a neophyte. The marks of brush and color continuously amaze me. And it is wild to have so flexible a medium to hand.
The last was made wiping up what was left on my palette. I took prints off it, a la Catherine Carter, and liked what was left behind the best:


My cat, now painfully thin but still crazy and loving, kept me company.


I often find acrylic paint on her tail these days.