Above are some of the many variations the painting went through.
Sitting in a restaurant in Golden, Colorado, while I was attending an art business workshop, I started watching a man at a table who looked so much like a friend in California. His mannerisms were the same, the shape of his head, even to the point where I could see an indentation in his skull in the same place my friend has had brain surgery twice. It made me feel like we could possibly be more than one person at a time. Then, on the last night of the workshop, we went out afterward and a woman asked me if I had relatives on the East Coast, since I apparently looked exactly like someone else she knew. I said “Not that I know of,” but jokingly I said “my family came over on the Mayflower, so I probably have lots of relatives there.” She then countered that she thought her ancestor also came over on the Mayflower! As I looked at her, somewhere deep down I felt she looked familiar.
My new painting, “Red Flowers That Turned Black Where Time Swallows Everything,” reminds me that we are all connected in a way that is almost beyond understanding and we need to make time ours, stopping to smell the flowers along our path.