i met l.m. on an idyllic afternoon in upstate new york. it was a very brief encounter. later on during that summer, i had the privilege to attend a "party" at her house. we were instructed to arrive as nuns. everyone dressed in some type of sash and headdress, but the person i was staying with had left a small box in front of my room with a priests collar in it. the half dozen nuns and one priest of us walked down the street to her house which had been painted all orange. when we went inside, many things were orange--clothes, furniture, walls. we walked past what looked like a dance studio with a full-length mirror and various buddhist objects. we had a dinner l.m. cooked for us. i believe we might have been instructed to eat in silence. after dinner, we were each given exactly five minutes to "describe the most important moment in our lives." being a motley crew of artists, we each had very different interpretations. one made honking songs with his mouth, another went to the kitchen sink, picked up dirty plates and silverware, and proceeded to distribute them. one began a powerful oration (only to be cut off at the climax because time was up). i believe i just went on a long, mumbly performance of the words, "i don't know."

after this, l.m. brought out a cushion where we each took turns lying in the middle with everyone else's hands on our limbs in silent meditation for another timed interval. we then partnered up to dance, where we weren't allowed to touch. then we would switch partners and we weren't allowed to talk. after we had danced with everyone for set amounts of time each, l.m. proceeded to usher us out the door. it was one of those experiences i enjoy repeating because it was my first "art party." no schmoozing, no boozing, just a good old "happening" with some dinner. later that summer, i gave her a memoir-type thing i had written. i remember eating dinner outside when she ran up to the fence clad in an orange shirt, and orange skirt, and an orange scarf, replete with henna-dyed orange hair, yelling, "you should publish this!" she gave me the manuscript back and then swiftly left.

while this was when i met l.m., i had known about her from years before. she was a kind of cult figure to myself and my experimental artist/musician friends. we would read books on chris burden and l.m. in the same sitting, talking until deep into the night about the implications of their work. i knew that l.m. would choose one color a year to immerse herself in depending on what color chakra she was meditating on. even though i have not seen her since that summer, i still think about her commitment and ardor. i hope to see her again.

this piece i made for her is one in a triptych of watercolor cards i have made for artists who i see as major mentors in my creative life.