vases and plates to create our still life setups. Our discusssions slid like oil paint gliding in glazes over the lists of must read art books, new colors to try, and the annoyances of setting a timer to rest our weary feet. When Earl passed from a sudden stroke in 2013 I lost both my mentor and collaborator. Now, whenever I prepare for a painting session alone in my own humble studio, I feel as though he is with me, urging me to 'stop dinking around' and to 'get more paint on that canvas!' Earl Boley was and will always be one of the most influential artists/persons in my life. I will never pick baby greens from a garden or apply thick strokes of juicy paint to a canvas without thinking if his no-nonsense, speak your truth, life is art philosophy.
My friendship with impressionist artist Earl Boley was both instantaneous and effortless, one of those chance meetings that steers the course of a life and career. For five years, we met every Wedneday morning at his home studio in Carmichael, CA to paint and discuss art. I would arrive around 9 am, he'd pop his head out of the potting shed where he made his morning salutations, hot tea and freshly baked muffins (thanks to his wife Susan) at hand. We'd enter his light filled studio, a wood fire already crackling and infusing the air with its dry, pungent aroma. I knew that he always built the fire especially for me as I never saw him wear more than a plain t-shirt. He ran warm. We collected fruit and flowers from his orchard and rummaged through piles of create