Here we are still in quarantine. Today marks 53 days inside for me. A lot has changed in 53 days.

In the idyllic first days of quarentine, I was opptomistic about the time I would spend in my studio and my work was wildly bright and vibrant. As days became weeks, and weeks became months, I began to loose friends to the virus and the news and politicizing of a medical epiemic began to hang on my soul like a shroud. As an artist, I tend to be almost puposefully naive. I actually do, want to look upon everything and everyone with fresh eyes with no presumptions. To see afresh, everyday. So, my naïveté is a shield. I have learned over the years to wield in protection from all those damn negative vibes, man!

Well, the rose colored glasses are off. I feel, I assume we ALL feel, that we can clearly see the stark hard facts. Stone Cold and in the Buff, I have painted my dear city in distress.

The Comfort in New York is a 30 inch by 40 inch original acrylic on canvas. I have painted hints of muted and dusty blue and jade green in a field of grey and sandstone and brick. The USNS Comfort is in its slip at pier 90 on the westside of Manhattan. The Comfort arrived in NYC on March 30th as a ghost in the Harbor. This is another view of my beloved old Hudson River, looking like frozen oak, icy and brown.