This is a series of semi-autobiographical paintings and portraits using family heirlooms, cutlery, and cast-off china for the canvas. It is called Plates and Broken Vessels. Dishing the dirt on family dysfunction, as well as celebrating those who are always welcome to have a seat at my table. The plates are more than willing to jump out of their daily ware role into the arts. The vessels are stoically waiting to be transformed. Both take to the paint beautifully.


The inspiration for the Broken Vessels comes from a personal experience from several years ago. I was on the sidelines of an international lecture, when the speaker singled out the scholarly females in the group (women were at best 20% of the whole) with "you are the vessels of your country". Vessels. I am sure it was meant as a compliment. Something nice, in a biblical sit back and relax sort of way. An honor even. Women as vessels. Oy vey.


Hearing it set me back on my heels and hit my heart with the weigh of the Handmaid's Tale. It has stayed with me ever since. When even the sophisticated intellectuals can casually refer to women in this manner, what hope is there in the world for equality? And even more terrifying, when now in 2021, the US is on the brink of overturning Roe v. Wade, making women in effect property of the state (more on that in Circus). Vessels. Sheeze.


So there you have it. Who knows, maybe one day I will make it on the map, the dish will run away with the spoon, women (artists) will be on equal standing with men, and more importantly, the worldwide view of us will be more than that of a vessel.


Till then, I paint on plates.