It's been a wrenching few days following the events in Boston during and after the Boston Marathon. The shock of seeing mayhem and explosions in this city that is so familiar to me brought home how dear it is.
I lived there for four years during college, commuting from my parents' home 35 miles west of the city for a fifth year, and the images of the uproar on Boylston Street, right near the Hancock Tower where I used to wait for my Peter Pan bus to take me back to Shopper's World in Framingham, right near the beloved Boston Public Library where I spent hours one day poring over original drawings and prints by Rembrandt, Degas, Max Beckmann, Picasso, shocked me to tears that day. It seemed so incongruous.
I lived for a year on the Fenway in the Back Bay. These paintings, two of my early Squarescapes, derive from photographs I took in the neighborhood many years later. I'm posting them now with a heightened sense of loyalty and love for my East coast home city and all of the people in it who have been affected by the recent, tragic events.