Ghostwolf Gallery's January 2020 exhibit invited its artists to look back at the work we created over the years. So, I dug through the studio and pulled out one of my son's favorites, Lily and Hyacinth. I probably drew the piece in 1982, when we were living in Brooklyn. Ywain was small enough to perch on my huge work table and draw beside me. It was during a time of contentment created from a balance of uncertainty, purpose, and silliness. Inside of me was a seed of optimism fed by the playfulness of my toddler. Lily and Hyacinth sprang from that seed and hid, as an incomplete sketch in my portfolio, through divorce, child-rearing, and moving to New Mexico. Twenty-eight years later, I finally painted and exhibited them for an invitational here in Albuquerque. Painting them, structurally unsound and impossibly poised with their slogan curving illegibly in the background, made me giddy.

Now seeing Lily and Hyacinth, stylistically delicate next to my current work in Ghostwolf, reminds me of the fragility of joy. They are thirty-eight years old and have weathered inner demons, media overload, and societal expectations. They have witnessed Y2K, the birth of iPhones, smart TVs, electric cars, self-check-out, and the last Presidential election. Despite it, they continue to dance, silly and unabashedly naked, to the random chaos of the universe. They embrace the ebb and flow of fortune and let it be the ever-changing soundtrack to which they do, or do not, dance. They know that, with a minute of silliness, they can create joy whenever they need to, whenever they choose to. They are the ambassadors of an inner child. I love them.

I seriously recommend that you try these silly things that Lily and Hyacinth taught me:

• Sing the tone of your cellphone or microwave, in response to them, whenever they ring.

• Bark in response to your neighbor's dog, whether it can hear you or not.

• Pronounce a word or phrase, in a loud and pretentious manner until it doesn't seem like a real word anymore.

• Extend your arms and spin in place until you wanna vomit or fall down. Then lay on the floor. Not recommended if you have a heart condition or Ménière's disease.

• Dance to the sound of the dishwasher, clothes dryer, or your neighbor's power tools.

• Do the hokey-pokey.

• Draw random loops on a piece of paper til both sides of the paper are full. Then tear the paper into tiny pieces and throw it away. Yes I admit that tearing up paper is one of my favorite things to do and, for me, should be a separate bullet point.

• Watch a critically-acclaimed movie and respond to the dialog with unrelated witty comments. It's like Mystery Science Theater, a TV series in which the host and his robot friends make witty and sarcastic remarks while watching bad sci-fi movies. It's especially silly when you do it to a supposedly serious movie.

You can see my watercolor, Lily and Hyacinth, at Ghostwolf Gallery until January 31. This painting is available framed for $850 or unframed for $500. Email me for details: roe.libretto@gmail.com