First return to painting

 Poppies 2, acrylic 16"X20"

After my mom's passing, I turned my back on my art. I packed up all my supplies, along with canvases and stored them in my garage for 11 years. I do not understand why my grief took this form but there you have it. 

A year and half ago, I returned to writing and began making mixed media art. I am quite dedicated to working as a writer and artist now. You know, I actually had an earlier blog in earlier 2000's also called Van Gogh Chica that I deleted around 2009. Why? I was shamed by some harsh criticism and caved into my insecurity. Damn, how I wish I had those years of writings still! I also mourn the damage done to my canvases and art supplies from being in a non climate controlled garage in South Florida for 11 years.

Oh well. No use crying over spilled milk. I decided my neurological recovery of my dominant hand is far enough along that I can return to painting. My hand still shakes and is a little impaired but I am confident that I can make it work enough to create paintings. I am  now excited with my newfound career as an artist and writer

My first canvas upon return to painting is a colorful one that reminds me of the beauty of San Francisco. While living there for 13 years, I discovered a love of poppies. I remember being amazed that large natural gardens of poppies existed so casually along freeways and among crowded living. Their vibrancy and floppy delicate petals spoke to me.

My poppy painting is from a low ground vantage. I imagined laying in the field of flowers and turning and seeing them against a beautiful setting sun. The colors bring forth a hopefulness that I could use these days.

I have allowed myself the luxury of support and assistance in my art studio. I look to YouTube instructors for advice, help getting started and details I missed in art classes (like the practical differences between painting brushes or where can you skimp on money and still get pretty good supplies.) I am also seeking community around my arts. Zoom groups and classes are helpful. 

If I can leave you with one important lesson from this experience, it is: do not give up when you feel your muses have left you. Art (visual and writing) is a discipline. Stay with it. Set new goals. Seek support and just keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

Hard won improvements: hands edition

 

This is a happy post. As some of you may have already read in past posts, the last two years have been very difficult for me. I have an autoimmune illness (rheumatoid arthritis) that has attacked my body in so many different ways. I believe it has attacked my gastrointestinal system. It has attacked all my joints, and it has wreaked terrible havoc on my spine. At least that is what my neurosurgeons speculate happened to my spine.*

In August of 2023, the pain in my back (and other places)  became so great that I was not able to work anymore. It was difficult to just be out of bed and walk. At the same time, my hands started becoming painfully, numb and lost dexterity. I went to three doctors trying to figure out why I was losing my balance and why I could not even hold eating utensils or a pen. I was misdiagnosed as simply having carpal tunnel. And the rest of my difficulties were chalked up to the effects of rheumatoid arthritis. Never mind, the fact that my rheumatologist was telling me that these symptoms of loss of balance and inability to control my foot placement was not an effect of RA.

Long story short, upon my third doctor and a second opinion by a neurologist, a full spinal MRI was ordered. That neurologist reached out to me the moment she saw the results and told me to head to the ER immediately, I had such severe spinal compression that I was close to paralysis. By that time, I was already using a walker and I could not use my hands for anything. I was totally dependent on an aide for all daily activities. I had an emergency corpectomy and cervical fusions in my neck on September 24, 2024. I ended up in a neck brace for 3 1/2 months post-op.

The day after this intensive surgery, I felt relief from the neuropathy in my hands. While I still suffer with it in my left hand, it is a far cry from the debilitating and agonizing burning pain I had been feeling in my hands 24/7. The crushing sensation I felt up my arms would dissipate over the next couple months. When I realize how close I was to paralysis from the neck down, I thank God and all my angels.

I have been doing physical therapy for over a year and while I am an impatient person, I am seeing great results. They may be subtle to the outside viewer looking in at me; but for me, I feel them as big steps. The biggest improvement has been my right hand, regaining much control. I do believe this was a blessing from God. I remember talking with my chief neurosurgeons before surgery and telling him that if they had to choose between saving my hands or my legs, to please save my hands. Not being able to write, dress myself and most importantly not being able to make art had robbed so much joy from my life. And the pain! Wow. I would make do with mobility aids if I could have my hands back and as I write this, I am happy to report my dominant hand is now about 90% healed ;my left hand not so much. But I'll take it.

Five months after my cervical surgery (February 2025), I sat at my art table and tried to paint some basic designs. This was the result . I

could not even draw lines well; I could not paint clean curves. My brushstrokes were visibly shaky. I was disgusted with myself and so utterly sad that I stopped sitting at my art table for months. Lots of tears. 

Three months later and eight months post op from cervical decompression, I again tried this same exercise. I am delighted. I doodled the image at the top of this post. My lines are more confident, controlled and solid. While my right hand is still a little shaky with fine lines. I am thrilled to be this improved. And grateful.

I now sit at my art table at least 5 days a week and I am enjoying my creativity again. I need to remember this improvement when I lose patience, especially around walking.

My emergency thoracic spinal decompression on December 28, 2024 stopped an impending paralysis as well, just lower in my body. I have not regained the ability to walk unassisted yet. I worry I'll never walk by myself again. But I need to remember these two drawings and know that with patience and hard work, I will improve. Or at least I'll be better, if not totally, ambulatory.

While I am frustrated about not being able to walk unassisted, I have to remember that I got my wish. I remember urgently telling the Neurosurgeon to save my hands and that is what has happened. If I am able to walk unassisted in the future, it will just be the icing on the cake. But I do hope to have a happy post like this one around my walking  abilities in the future.

*Since this post is about my hand recovery, I will not go into the thoracic spinal decompression surgery that I had December 28, 2024.

Activists I Love series: Bill Allison

Bill Allison is the second inclusion to my series: Activists I Love. Bill has a long, illustrious career, championing the rights of the marginalized and disfranchised. Truly, he is a Southern patriot. I am honored to call him a friend. 

His life's work as a civil rights advocate is formidable. I can not give it justice in one, brief blog post. Rather, I want to paint his activism in broad strokes and tell you a bit about how and why I came to love him as a comrade as well as one of my favorite people!

I first met Bill in the mid 1980's when my university anti-Apartheid activism organically transitioned to anti-racism and gay/lesbian* activism within the Louisville community. As an established civil rights attorney, he graciously allowed groups to meet in his office after hours. 

It was there that I met him at meetings for electoral work for a local progressive mayoral candidate. Little did I know who I was sitting next to. When the University of Louisville became the first US Southern university to divest their holdings from South African Apartheid, he pulled me aside to congratulate me on the student's successful intensive 2 year campaign. 

He asked probing questions about my political ideas and asked what I planned to do next. Shucks, I knew I wanted to continue my advocacy for the rights of people of color, women, etc. I explained where my head was at and how that had brought me there; but I was just working campaign to campaign. I was like all university students who become politically aware. I was thirsty for an explanation (and dare, I say, analysis) of US racism, patriarchy and all the other "isms" I was seeing.

I will never forget when he looked me in the eye and commented how my mind had been exposed to the ugly realities that greed and ignorance can bring forth in the world. Whether it was Apartheid in South Africa, El Salvadoran death squads in Central America or the KKK in Louisville, Ky, he said "You have learned some hard truths. And with knowledge, comes responsibility." 

Whoa. That was deep; and that truth has stayed with me to this day. Thus, a deep respect and friendship developed. We would work politically together for years, until I moved to San Francisco. But I still look him up whenever I visit Louisville and boy, does time fly when we get together. 

Bill became politicized during the anti-war and civil rights struggles of the 1960s. While still just a law student, he met Carl and Anne Braden and began working with the Southern Conference Educational Fund (SCEF). SCEF was one of the few white organizations working across racial lines at that time. You can hear Bill explain the fervor of these times in this wonderful 2000 interview. It's a truly fascinating first hand account of the South coming to grips with the civil rights movement.

He worked on cases with the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) defending the rights of anti-war activists.  He was one of the attorneys with the famous case for The Black Six. After that, he became know as a "civil rights attorney" (a term that had not existed before those times) and began his long law career defending  the rights of marginalized people.

From electoral work for Jesse Jackson, Darryl Owens, Harold Washington and more, Bill learned how to run campaigns. He eventually ran and won a seat on Louisville's Board of Aldermen and continued to support progressive issues in Louisville as an elected official. 

The next several decades saw him continue his community advocacy with his legal mind and his open heart. He joined ranks with the Louisville chapter of Showing Up for Racial Justice (LSURJ) and you could count on him to canvas and go door to door to get the word out on issues such as ending cash bail or in support of local progressive judges. As a core leader in the organization, he has helped make LSURJ one of the most effective organizations in Louisville. Bill says:  "We have to reach working-class white people because they have so many reasons to stand with people of color."

In my 2023 trip to Louisville, I spent a day with Bill and his long time love, Pat. Pat Allison, is a wonderful painter. I was lucky to  visit her studio space and get a personal tour of her works. Bill and I also visited and the day ended with him taking us to his favorite eatery.

He told me how his love of jazz (Bill is a trombone musician) had led him to discovering a forgotten jazz musician by the name of Bill Coleman. Coleman hailed from Bill's own hometown, Paris, Ky.  And it was that fact that flabbergasted Bill, when he realized he had never heard of this accomplished jazz musician. 

Coleman was born in Paris, Ky around 1905 and lived through the racism and segregation that was small Southern towns at that time. Long story short (you can hear Bill tell the whole story in this 2023 radio interview), Coleman became a gifted jazz musician and played with the likes of Louis Armstrong and other jazz luminaries. Coleman toured, and recorded music but became disgusted with the poor treatment he received (a la "Green Book" movie); so he moved to Paris, France. Like so many other African American artists of that day, he lived the rest of his life in France, where he pursued his musical career without the hazards of Jim Crow and segregation. 

Bill knew he wanted to shine a light on Coleman's music and life story. Racism and segregation had kept this great music away from us all.  As Bill explains in the aforementioned radio interview, white people also suffer from racism and segregation. Their lives are not enriched with the contributions of those they neglect to notice. 

In an act of cultural activism, Bill met with the mayor of Paris, Kentucky, and told him about Coleman and asked "what can we do to bring home this forgotten son of Paris, Ky?".  The mayor put him in touch with the Hopewell Museum of Historic Paris and Bourbon County. They also wanted to honor Coleman. And July 14 - 16, 2023 ushered in the first annual Bill Coleman Jazz Festival. The weekend included lectures about the life and music of Bill Coleman as well as wonderful Southern jazz ensembles. Bill and Pat Allison would eventually go on to visit Paris, France to honor Coleman in his chosen country.

I could go on with fun (and funny) stories about Bill and me. The black and white photo of Bill and me was taken at the rainy March in Washington in 1987. This color picture of us was taken in 2023. We both have led interesting and impactful lives. I just count myself lucky to have shared some of my time on this planet with this man.

* In the mid 1980's the queer liberation movement used the abbreviations of GL for gay and lesbian. It would not be until later that the other initials joined the acronym to where we are today.

If you would like to inspire yourself or others with a print or card of Bill Allison, visit my Etsy Store!

News from the front, with Bimi, cat activist

 

Yesterday, my friend, DL, went to a May Day rally in Coral Springs. Unfortunately, the SURJ group he was meeting up with (to walk to the main rally together) was nowhere to be found. Very odd. SURJ organizers are known to be responsible. Not sure what happened there.

But the take away for me was sitting (pun intended) with my feelings of "less than" again. Due to my autoimmune illness, rheumatoid arthritis, I live with constant pain and am currently disabled, using a walker and wheelchair. (That may change in the future. If I have anything to do about it that will change!) Getting out is a bit challenging for me. It depends on my pain level that day and time. I also need to research whether places I want to go to are walker and wheelchair accessible. Gone are the days of committing to activities in advance and always being able to maneuver the locales and actions. And that makes me sad. It makes me feel left out. And in these political times, I really want to be part of community organizing.

While I am well aware that I need to take ownership of my life as it is and seek out ways I can be involved; I still felt left out. And then it hit me. I could send a proxy to events I am not up for. And who else could represent me but my trusted feline daughter, Bimini.  She is feisty and very vocal - as all guests who visit my home remark. She talks a lot and has a dramatic presentation. 

Bim accepted this job and will be reporting from the field on meetings, rallies, marches, etc. Yeah, this will be fun. Stay tuned.

 

May Challenge with Lindy's Gang paints

The May 2025 Challenge from Lindy's Gang is to incorporate a cityscape and abstraction in one work of art using at least two Lindy's Gang products. I chose the Ancient Incan city of Machu Picchu. Incan textiles were the inspiration for my abstract shapes. I used Lindy's magicals from two sets. Yellow Tang Yellow from Under the Sea set #2; and Gypsy Soul Slate, Smudge the Sage and Flickering Fairy Lights from the new Gypsy Vibes set.

Oh, yes, I had to include a dirty llama as a big one chased me around the Intihuatana

when I visited this site. I turned a corner and we surprised each other. She and I  had a tense standoff and kept eying each other as we walked around the stone known as The Hitching Post of the Sun. She finally tired of me and clomped away. Let me tell you, she was not the cute, fluffy sweet llama you often see in pictures. Her fur was dirty, smelly; and she was tall and feisty. Perhaps she was an alpaca...

If any of you are crafters or wanna be crafters/artists, I encourage you to play with some of the paints and pigments from Lindy's Gang. Use my code DEBORAHSFL at checkout for 10% discount.

I would love to see what you create. The magicals (powders) are my current fav. Although I I do love their spray shimmers.
 

Scary times

This is an ATC that I call Free Palestine. I do not know the woman pictured; she represents all Palestinian women enduring Isreal's (with US dollars) genocide.

These days, I am creating much art in my journals that deal with human struggles and dire times. Seeing the erosion of democracy happening every day in the US is so disheartening and scary.  

As a progressive activist in the 80s and 90's, I remember thinking that things then were so bad: the wars we were involved in abroad and Reaganomics at home surely was indicative of a political system in decline. There was so much organizing. And yes, Apartheid did crumble, LGBTQ gains were made and there was general support for anti-racist struggles in the US. I felt the future would be better.

Then a momentous backlash occurred; why did we not prepare adequately for this? Patriarchal white supremacy, the foundation of this country's wealth, would not go out with a whimper. The left had long ignored working with the Democratic Party. So much so, that we now have a two party system that is really a one party system. And a left that is unorganized, tired, and ill prepared.

It is easy to think that President Trump is the main bogeyman. We want to think that if we just get rid of him, things will go back to pre-Trump days. No. While he is a figurehead, the far right backlash is fueled  by the 1%. Basically, this pushback centers around enabling the rich to keep more of their money, at any cost. Forget equality, forget climate change, forget justice. 

Judges, challenging unconstitutional presidential directives are rounded up and jailed. Brown US citizens, mostly Latinos, are being held illegally in detention camps or deported without due legal process.  The legal rights of activists are all being abolished with the hysterical cries against Antifa. The police are now more weaponized and have been given the green light to act as ICE officials as well as Antifa hunters. And the uber rich keep getting richer

So, you can see why I have nightmares and why my art reflects some grim realities. My housemate, DL, told me this morning of a dream he had last night. He dreamt that he was with a group of people that were trying to stop a train full of Nazis. Ultimately, they were unsuccessful, but he does remember that they all remained hopeful. Another dear friend, S, tells me how her autoimmune illness, Chronic Fatigue (CFS) is flared up worse than it's ever been before. Not surprisingly, she also tells me how brokenhearted she is these days. Her grief pours out of her for the people of Palestine, undergoing Israel's genocidal onslaught. And myself. I have a raised generalized anxiety these days about the plight of our country and my own security.

I love watching movies, especially mysteries and thrillers. But these days, I cannot watch a movie about war or a dystopian/apocalyptic future; because these situations don't seem so far-fetched for me. I can easily see the world being reduced to these kind of nightmare landscapes. The atrocious headlines I see every day are so disheartening. I'm finding it hard to remain hopeful.

BUT, remaining content, and yes, hopeful is still possible and more important than ever. Seeking good news about resistance, on all levels, helps.  There are good people who see community as sacred gifts and who see love at the center of all our actions. 

Perhaps I'll take a spiritual break and send my cat, Bimi, to do some community organizing in my name.  Yes, Mr. Bigglesworth* is no match for the lefty kitty,  Bimini!

 

* for those in the dark, Mr Bigglesworth is the evil mascot of Mr. Evil in Austin power movies

Another birthday rolls around. 63!

Walk Among the Stars, ATC, mixed media, 2025 dlRomero

I turned 63 recently and have been celebrating Deb Fest all month. Jelly pedicure, massage (my first since my spinal surgeries!), good food, new art supplies. While I try to act gracious about my aging, inside I cringe. But as they say in 12 step: Fake it 'til you make it.

I do dye my hair, wear makeup, wax and choose to be on HRT. I am a queer femme. (alpha  twist) It is going to be interesting to age while retaining my youthful energy and sensuality. Also, I have the added burden (yes, I say burden because that is how I feel about it now) of living with disability.

Female, brown, queer, 60+ and disabled in the US... I am going to have to really dig deep to transcend the mainstream expectation of what that looks and acts like.  There are not that many examples. 

My first step toward age acceptance was to take an honest assessment of what I need to live fully. My walker, HRT, lube, beauty salon (in my case I go to the Aveda School for inexpensive services), low heels and comfortable clothes, medication. physical therapy. These are but a few of the things I now need to live comfortably. Then, and only then, am I being creative to embody those new living tools with a style that reflects my inner goddess. She is sassy, sensual, colorful, loving and creative. 

You would think that this order would be logical, but no. I kept putting my first step as employing items and practices from my younger days. I keep rejecting my walker; but until I know I do not need it anymore, I have to proceed as if I will continue to use it. I also have difficulty accepting that I need to leave behind any type of higher heels.  I was not a stiletto girl, but I definitely liked a wedge or cute sandals with a little bit of heel. But since my spinal surgeries and RA, I my joints need the stability and comfort of low heels. 

I do think I have great legs, but I'm not one for short shorts or skirts anymore. 

One good thing is that I never once felt frumpy wearing glasses. I love frames like other women love to collect shoes. I notice frames on other women and I comment and engage in chitchat around it. When I was actively dating, I would go to a few singles functions or happy hours and men there told me I had a sexy librarian vibe because of my glasses. I thought OK, great. If that works for you, it works for me. Women did not say such silly things.

I took this photo of myself last week before we went to Bahama Breeze, where I toasted my birthday with Bahama Rita's, my favorite cocktail. Initially, I was delighted. I like the colors and my smile. But a quick second later, my attention zoomed onto my softer jowls and neck. I wasn't going to post this picture but then I thought about it and thought hey this is how I look at 63. My neck and skin is creepier and looser. And it is still a nice portrait. The colors, the large earrings, the lipstick and highlighted curls. I felt cute.

Maybe because I had aging on my mind, I made this ATC of an older woman jauntily walking with beautiful red skirt and her backpack. I placed her in a cosmic setting and call it "Walking Among the Stars". Wouldn't you know it, clipart images of older women  enjoying themselves in creative, lovely ways are scarce. When I did find images, they were always of white women and drawn in a caricature style that was more comical than lovely. There are some images of older black women that are elegant, often with a religious angle. Forget about finding any using assistive walking devices.

As a crafty mermaid, I am part of a community which shares ATC's and makes paper mixed media together. Literally all the art that I see in this community features cutsie images of young people with lovely sentiments, a la Lifetime movie style. Hey, I watch Lifetime movies occasionally, but only in small doses. I cannot take the sanitized, saccharine settings and storylines. 

I am trusting that my art will find its own niche market. I want to highlight older women living with integrity and flare. Also issues that I consider important to my life as well as our times. I hope to get as old as the woman depicted in my ATC. And I hope I am as whimsical, fun and expressive as my lady walking among the stars.