Thanks to a sore thumb, the clay whistles I intended to make during this long covid induced isolation were delayed. Instead I dream paintings almost every night and paint them in the morning. In the dreams they are richly colored and textured in a way I have not yet been able to duplicate. These paintings seem simple and uncomplicated. As is usual in my work, relative sizes, rules, and perspectives are forgotten. To me the paintings look cheerful but the ideas behind them are difficult; how helpless we are, how ill prepared.