Days

see also: MemoriesWereMeantToFade, Studio

month:+0


2026-07-14 · In the studio

In the studio — On Borgo Angelico at 14:09, she found Deep Red—that inward turning, garnet-dark, the colour of old blood pooling in silk.

On Borgo Angelico at 14:09, she found Deep Red—that inward turning, garnet-dark, the colour of old blood pooling in silk. Minutes later, light shifted on crumpled linen: Pale Yellowish Pink emerged, almost white but warm with flesh-tone, like rice paper held to flame. The chair held both—scarlet's ancient cloth-memory and silver's cool lustre—the room itself a study in what red becomes when it remembers itself.

painted 14 July 2026 — colours from Borgo Angelico, Rome, Italy.
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Paintings

2026-07-13 · Villa medici and the Black congress

Villa medici and the Black congress — She came to Viale della Trinità dei Monti at the hour when the stone begins to hold the day's heat like a secret.

She came to Viale della Trinità dei Monti at the hour when the stone begins to hold the day's heat like a secret. The interior was still cool — travertine walls breathing their centuries into the shadows, and the people gathered there, seated on floors worn smooth by footsteps she would never count, wore the colours of restraint. Dark greenish gray, like slate after rain, pooled in the fabric of their clothes. Olive black absorbed what light remained.

But the walls told another story. A grayish yellowish brown, dust itself made stone — khāk, the Urdu word, earth looking back at earth. Beside it a grayish yellow, ash-touched, the colour of dried grasses seen from a height. The travertine held warmth: brownish pink, the colour of faded salmon, of things surrendered to time; a moderate orange glowing like dried apricots where the terracotta floor caught the last slant of July light; light brown, the warm earthiness of fired clay worn smooth. And there — a visitor's deep red, that inward-turning colour, maroon thinking of chestnut and blood, worn by someone seated in the foreground as if it were a small rebellion against the gray.

She moved through the space with her bottles and her eye, collecting what the stone and the bodies offered. The dark greenish gray ground held everything else — the umbers and ochres, the iron oxides dug and burnt, the slow work of centuries rendering warmth into dust. By evening she had gathered the day's palette, each colour a small resistance against forgetting. The walls would outlast her, but the light that touched them today would not.

✦I would not have gone out today. It was ove r35C outside. ☞All while the man, invited, played records for them on the turntables in front of him †Maybe to care about the past is to care about vynil recordingss.

painted 13 July 2026 — colours from Viale della Trinità dei Monti, Rome, Italy.
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Paintings

2026-07-13 · Listening party

Listening party — On Viale della Trinità dei Monti at dusk, she gathered the palazzo's held warmth—travertine walls yielding their pale grayish browns, the yellowish grays of weathered stone like old parchment.

On Viale della Trinità dei Monti at dusk, she gathered the palazzo's held warmth—travertine walls yielding their pale grayish browns, the yellowish grays of weathered stone like old parchment. Inside Villa Medici, visitors sat listening in shadow: dark grayish olive greens absorbed the institutional light, nearly the colour of moss and charred wood. One burgundy shirt caught her eye—deep red, the turned-inward claret of garnet—and she marked it, marked the moment.

Through the tall rectangular windows, brilliant white light suddenly flooded the shadowed interior, a brightness that seemed to hold all the spectrum's proportion without absorption, luminous as the Sanskrit śveta—the colour of the beginning. The nearly white plaster walls bathed in that warm golden overhead glow, their cream-tinted surface catching shadow only where the burgundy figure stood. Rome's centuries exhaled from every surface, each tone a voice barely audible beneath the speaking of light, yet the white—that titanium brightness available only since the painters learned to surpass lead—held its own voice: clear, uncompromised, the colour that finally saw without veiling what lay beneath.

painted 13 July 2026 — colours from In Villa Medici, Villa Medici, Viale della Trinità dei Monti, Rome, Italy.
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Paintings

2026-07-03 · Vatican City, Vatican City

Vatican City, Vatican City — The Borgo Angelico held her in its greenish gray — that muted tone of weathered plaster, the ground itself.

The Borgo Angelico held her in its greenish gray — that muted tone of weathered plaster, the ground itself. But she had walked toward the river and the Vatican as afternoon broke into evening, drawn by the light that turns stone into something readable.

She entered St. Peter's as pilgrims do, slowly, watching how the floor held its centuries.✦ The marble spoke in layers: blackish blue pooling in the grout lines like lapis lazuli in shadow, light grayish olive warming the worn surfaces where ten thousand feet had softened the stone. Above, Bernini's baldacchino caught the fading light — pale orange yellows and light orange yellows, the golds of shell and leaf flickering like breath across bronze. She thought of Michael beside her at Mass that morning, the feast of St. Thomas, the doubter. My Lord and my God, he had whispered, echoing the words of doubt transformed into certainty, and she had watched the light move across his face.

In the courtyard of St. Gregory the Illuminator, she knelt with her field-book. The gilded altar backdrop held dark grayish olive and light olive brown — earth-tones anchoring baroque flame. The burnished reliefs caught what remained of day: a honeyed gleam that was not quite Naples yellow, not quite the pale cream of aged wood. She wrote quickly as shadows gathered, not what she saw but what persisted — the persistent golds, the greys that would not yield to dusk.☞ My Lord! And my God! The exclamation rose unbidden. Around her, the stone breathed its ancient colors back into the violet air.

✦Michael and I attended Mass. It was the feast of St. Thomas, the doubter. But he also said "My Lord and my God!" ☞My Lord! And my God!

painted 3 July 2026 — colours from Vatican City, Vatican City, St Gregory the Illuminator Courtyard, Vatican City, Basilica San Pietro.
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Paintings

2026-07-03 · Dentist office view

Dentist office view — The waiting room holds its pale blue certainty—sky caught behind glass, the colour of a summer afternoon in the north, bleached by fluorescent light into something patient and still.

The waiting room holds its pale blue certainty—sky caught behind glass, the colour of a summer afternoon in the north, bleached by fluorescent light into something patient and still. Through the door frame, Rome fragments: the grayish yellowish brown of weathered travertine, dust and khaki earth layered across centuries, the pale green of old plaster dust settling in grout lines like sage, like the heal-all herb.✦ She studies the greenish gray of the floor tile, slate-coloured, weathered lead, each shade bleeding into the next with the quietness of Verona Green Earth. A medium gray threshold marks the boundary between inside and outside, pewter at rest, deciding nothing.

I wait for Michael's turn to be done, then we will go together onto St. Peter's. But first she allows herself the memory of Sunday light on the altar, that pale grayish yellowish brown of ornamental stucco—aged parchment, incense smoke, dust of centuries—held in her mind like a prayer. The afternoon stretches unmarked. Outside the glass, the city breathes in its restrained grays and blues, stone upon stone, and she is ready to step into it.

✦I wait for Michael's turn to be done, then we will go together onto St. Peter's.

painted 3 July 2026 — colours from Via di Porta Cavalleggeri, Rome, Italy, Dentists Office, Vicolo del Grottino, Rome, Italy.
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Paintings

2026-06-14 · Church on sunday

Church on sunday — The courtyard floor holds her attention.

The courtyard floor holds her attention. Strong Yellow Green—that particular muted green of apples not yet ripe, of moss at its brightest—spreads across the cracked stone beneath her feet, where weathered surfaces have softened into cream and pale chartreuse along the grout lines. She kneels with her kit, recording the cluster: how Yellowish White nests against Grayish Yellow Green, how time itself has become a patina here. The light is June light, Mediterranean and without apology. She thinks of the iron oxides in the earth, burnt and unburnt, the ancient ochres from forty thousand years deep.

Against this muted ground, the morning yields its warmer finds. At the mini-hotel terrace, Strong Reddish Orange glows where the weathered brick catches afternoon slant—terracotta, that fired earth, coloured by iron as all clay is when the kiln takes it. Later, Deep Yellowish Brown surfaces on a worn wooden stool beside faded denim, raw umber calcined and deepened, and a Brownish Orange from a religious illustration in newsprint speaks of cinnamon, of burnished copper. The Brilliant Blue of the swimming pool beside the riverfront property arrives almost as relief—cerulean, that sky-blue newer to painters' hands than any of these earths. She works steadily, collecting the morning's language of mineral and light.

painted 14 June 2026 — colours from Mini-Hotel terrace.
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Paintings

10 of 73 entries.