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Betsy lived near me on the North Coast of California in a tiny square one-room former outbuilding somebody had painted pink. She had her paints and easel and canvases there & a thin sleeping pad she rolled up & put away every morning.
She was sweet & generous with everyone else, but the disciplines she imposed upon herself were unyielding. This tension came out in her paintings. The last time I saw Betsy was in San Francisco, where she lived near the water & permitted herself a patio with luxuriant plants in large clay pots. I did some photos of her work, & she let me pick out a painting in payment. I haven't seen Betsy in over 20 years, but I look at the painting -- a portrait of a woman -- often. |
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