Part 1: No more monkeys jumping on the bed

Got no sleep the other night. None. Nada.

CAUSE THERE WERE TOO MANY OF US (AND THEM) CRAMMED ON THE BED!

First there was Mr. Spouse, who actually belonged there, blissfully sawing ZZZZZs. Then me, ditto—except minus the ZZZZZs—because I was WIDE AWAKE. And Sophie, the little dog who thinks she’s people, and I swear, manages to sprawl all 13 pounds of self absorbed dogginess into the same amount of space that a sumo wrestler would take up.

So the bed’s already crowded just starting out.

But then THEY showed up. The angry hoard ping-ponging around in my head (and thus the bed) AT MY INVITATION because of some late night bad choices I might’ve made.

Like settling down with a cup of extra dark hot cocoa (during a heatwave, even!) at 11 PM to better enjoy a bit of doom scrolling on the laptop.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!!!

So there I was lying in bed surrounded by my earlier mistakes. My heart took off in a ker-thunk ker-thunk ker-blip 120 BPM tango as soon as my head hit the pillow. I thought it was all over, I knew I was surely dying from too much chocolate and existential angst and Mr. Spouse would find my cold lifeless body in the morning—

---

Five little monkeys (four politicians and a boatload of shit-for-brains everyone elses) jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Mama called the doctor and the doctor said
No more monkeys jumping on the bed!

---

Oh for cryin’ out loud –you’re such a drama queen!

And just like that, Lucille, my Muse crashes the party. She doesn’t take up space in the bed but she sprawls across every corner of my mind—elbowing the rowdy ones right out.

“Go on—get outta here. And take your stupid red hats with you.”

The black thoughts slink off. Not far, though. I can hear them grumbling in the closet—the closet that has no door.

The silence hangs for a beat. Then—pfft—she leans in. Half cajoling. Half commanding. Well, kiddo since you’re awake anyway, take a look. Notice anything?

What the hell am I supposed to see? The lights are off.

The room is dark. The closet darker, a heavy black blot taking up most of my vision. But as my eyes adjust, the blot softens—gray at the top, lighter toward the ceiling. And the rumbles and grumbles from the closet? Texture.

Whatdya know—a Rothko!

I stare at it. Study the way the tones shift. Know that it’s a painting, even if it’s only in my head. Somewhere in there, I fall asleep.

And in the morning? Paintings waiting—the first black & white, a literal interpretation (as literal as I can be which is not very). The others evolved as color fields. Like these:

I’ve written about working in series before. That’s how these things happen–if one is good, well keep going until you’ve exhausted the theme. Get some inspiration (in this case at night) then riff on a theme (in this case by the light of day). The series, which I’m calling Sleepless to Inspired, has already grown to five, each one building on the one before.

I have no doubt there’ll be more.

So what ties these paintings together as a series? A bit of haziness coming off a large central dark area — that’s it. Yes, it’s that simple. In the beginning I thought they would all be monochromatic but by the time they evolved to #3, color had to enter the picture. Literally.

Cause I loves me some color!

These were created on my iPad in a process I call Digital Mixed Media. I photograph my original paintings, then layer and reimagine them on an iPad. The originals, the ones that I photograph, are painted in layers and then there’s 20 or more layers of digital enhancements to get to the final image.

That’s a whole lot of layers!

You can see the entire series here in my shop at Fine Art America. To avoid any confusion, it’s in the Shadows & Light collection.

Part 2: Your turn

This week’s creative prompt: Find magic in the shadows.

The next time the lights go out, don’t rush to fill the dark. Sit with it. Notice how the shadows shift, how they soften, how they might even become color. Leading to a painting. Or a poem. Or be the seed for your first/next/only/best selling novel.

So sit in the dark and tell me in the comments what you see. Or better yet, sketch it, paint it, collage it—then tag me so I can cheer you on.

‘Til next week-