While doing dental work on the 1 mm teeth of my tiny dinosaur -- he has 60+ and they vary in size -- I find myself missing the work my mother Lou and I did on the murals she designed for the Holy Resurrection Russian Orthodox Cathedral, Wilkes-Barre, PA. It was as much in the Eastern style as we poor westerners could muster. We both found it a deeply congenial language, though we were surely interlopers: women and heathen, and who could say which was worse in the eyes of the Old Believers. Indeed, we were declared Anathema (or was it Abomination -- I forget). That seemed to me to be rather an honor, altogether.

A ring of twelve angels were my job, and each had a 14 foot wingspan. We were about 60 feet up on scaffold (constructed by persons who liked to have a mighty good time in the evening; there was an element of suspense). The church bell would strike the hours, which, somehow, gave a timeless rather than a timely sense. Self and Angel, so long ago:

I was able to draw each angel on heavy mural canvas, mostly paint it, cut it out like an enormous paper-doll, adhere it to the ceiling and finish the painting there.

When Mr. Dinosaur and several other belated Entities (bless your patience, Friends) are complete, I may have to pause and do something Large.