As I do every morning, I was sitting in my spot, cup of coffee in hand, black mini-journal, lap top all within reach. A plastic contraption with three rigid buckles on my right foot was stretching my achilles heel on doctor’s orders.
“Brrrring, Brrrring, Brrring I heard an alarm go off upstairs where my octogenarian mom lives. I knew it was her oxygen and it was an ALARM. The machine was failing and that meant she could fail. In a flash I somehow released the buckles and tore up the stairs. Yes, I flew. She was fine, a little startled but I was horrified. I kept thinking, am I qualified to be in charge of this? But no time to wallow in rumination. I quickly grabbed the spare portable oxygen and hooked up the tubing.
Next, I had to call the oxygen company for help. As I waited through the tedious prompts I looked out on the water and felt a deep relief. Once again, a thin strip of horizontal land with sky over the water, gave me a visual exhale. I had calm, I was grounded, I was safe again.
It seems all my paintings attempt to contain safety. I’m always searching for a certain kind of calm. It’s a place where my eyes can stretch far and wide while I stand on solid ground, surrounded by the colors I love.
Looking forward-it’s all we can do, xo
Casey
Find my archival fine art prints here: https://www.artfullywalls.com/artists/83481/casey-chalem-anderson