bali studios is born at nautilus teachings

they say karma
always comes back
to bite you in the butt.
for this brief moment
no one lived in fear
her ex was in jail
the kids were all happy
she and d were in love
building a beautiful life…
the time had come
for her to fix sher.
where to begin…
she started with writing classes
pouring out her life story
weekly in the classroom
next up was photography
a month long of selfies
with the goal being to
actually take a picture of
your naked face
by months end.
most posted their toes
half a face
their flowers blooming…
not sher!
she build complete sets
painting corners
one with blue waves
one with angel wings
one with the closet
she hid in as a child…
she smudged mascara on her cheeks
and red paint on her body
she set up her camera
and click, click, click
she did not just take one photo
she took hundreds
and made slide shows…
this was how she would heal
through her art.
march arrived
and d asked her to go to el sal with him
on a surf trip
so the two of them few off
and for 5 days stayed in the guarded
yet extremely beautiful hotel
where he surfed three sessions a day
she napped, read, wrote, drew and photographed…
on the third day
under the almond tree
sipping cold water from a bottle
he picked up an almond that had fallen

‘blondie. how would you like an oceanfront studio
to teach your art?”
speechless, she stared at him
“i own the double unit next to me
and as a wedding gift i want you to have it…”
‘yes, yes, yes…’ was all she could stammer out.
they returned home and began
tearing down all the walls
opening up the whole space
to the gorgeous mother ocean view…
they laid the floor
put in a mosaic entry
painted the walls different colors
made tables out of saw horses
and plywood,
Bali Studios was born.
“well blondie, this is all yours.
time to begin.
let everyone hear and see you.
you can do this…”
and so sheri began to be being born.
the unraveling of so many locked images
the very first painting in my studio
was wise old mr. hawksbill
who hangs above my desk.
he was my imaginary friend
and guide as a child.
he introduced me to fancy finns the mermaid
lots of tropical colored fish
waving seagrasses
i hung sea stars in the dark closet
to light my way
all while being engulfed in the warm
cradling of my faith…
now, at the age of 45
it was all becoming real.
i had no idea what would come out
how it would look
and i did not care
just the release of paint
on canvas
the soft brushing sounds
began to heal me.
at first,
every painting had to have air.
it had to be protected.
it needed light.
protection=black outlines
yellow at the top=light
that’s how my painting started
here in cb

in my tiny ocean front bali studios.
for a whole year i threw paint
i cried
i screamed
i yelled
i wrote
57 paintings later
with mr hawksbill
-as the not for sale- main piece
i had my first art show
at juice and java,
selling all but 7 paintings…
they have all sold accept 2.
those hang in my home…
my kids were all doing well.
our first grandson was now 1 1/2,
my ex was in jail
his family hated me
blamed me
that was ok.
i could live with that
knowing full well, now
that he brought his problems with him
into a marriage
through bold face lies.
the girls and i wrote a letter to the judge
asking to keep him in jail
and they did for a tiny while longer.
we were picking up the pieces of our life
and it was hard.
you cannot just forget
15 years of madness
because there were some beautiful moments
there was love,
or so i thought…
one day in 2008
right before my show i got a
large manilla envelop
it was
it was a story
his imagined story
of what life would be like
once he got out of jail-
us picking up as a family…
i knew the drugs had played havoc
with his brain
and i did not want to ever hear from him
so i put it and the letters
her wrote the girls
in a box
sealed it tight
and stuck it in the attic.
a week or so after my show in october
i came home from errands…
i noticed on my porch an
empty peanut butter jar
there was also a note…
“i fucking hate you.
i want to pin back your eyelids
and make you watch me…”
i was thrown right back down
into shame
filth, ugliness, terror…
every sound made me jump
and then the phone calls
i started receiving
and recording
from him-
he was out of jail…
my first thought?
bring it the fuck on!