These days I am fascinated by geometric marks made by early humans during the Ice Age. I think of our common ancestors as I place the circles, spirals, triangles, dots and wavy lines they made into my new paintings. They were the original artists. From our tribal beginnings, we humans felt a deep need to share what we saw or experienced with others.

I am comforted by their marks. They are evidence of the long arc of human life on our planet. We have found ways to adapt and survive. And yet we are fragile creatures, as our current global pandemic reminds us. In this dangerous time, I feel the presence of these prehistoric souls. They seem to surround me with messages they still want to share—if only I listen hard enough. I imagine one of them, standing near the cave entrance, reaching for charcoal and ochre to inscribe the waiting rock. What did the artist intend, I wonder?

I stand back from the painting on my easel to regard the ancient signs I’ve placed alongside my own marks. There are primordial messages from ancestors whispered here—and I am listening.

Discovering oil and cold wax painting was, for me, like coming home after a long journey. I had explored different artistic paths: poetry, drama, music, collage, and painting with acrylics. Each had its own rewards but did not fully satisfy my creative urge. Today, they stand beside me in the studio as I apply layer after layer of oil and wax—like drafts of a poem, scenes in a play, or phrases in a song. The creative process feels richer as I experience a connection to other art forms. I become an architect who unearths, a sculptor who carves and scrapes with abandon. I am a writer who can suggest a word or thought with a quick scribble. I am a jazz singer on a riff, adding and removing notes as I ride the original impulse.

I also find that the materials and techniques in cold wax painting are wonderful conduits for creative intention. Earth elements—sand, charcoal, mica flakes, marble dust—not only achieve rich textures but help me to interpret the geography of a specific place more abstractly. Solvent adds spontaneity to the process, allowing me to communicate a sense of what is lost and what remains. Using a variety of tools, mark making can incorporate symbols from an ancient culture or convey a state of mind.

Most of all, I love the life metaphor I experience when I paint with oil mixed with cold wax: a history of layers which then becomes a “jumping off place” into the future. My layered soul is grateful for both this creative discovery and the ongoing journey.