The mid-winter doldrums, drabby-crabbies, and grumpy frumpies have you all dressed up in bulky sweaters and chewed-up mittens.

You look in the mirror and say, I look like a catfish. 

You pull out your whiskers and throw back a shot of Emergen-C.

You eat a bag of chocolate chips.

You chase the shot of Emergen-C with the last servings of motor oil out in the garage.

There’s more snow coming and you’re primed, pumped, and psyched to blow it out of the driveway, heave it off the deck, and fling it from all the walkways leading to your ice castle.

You are belting out Let it Go, but your soul is frozen. The snow isn’t white, it’s a slush pile of stone-cold gray and steely blue.

You just want to go away and turn your frown upside down. You are desiring Happiness-is-a-Warm-Puppy kind of happiness. Please-Don’t-Make-Me-Read-Subtitles kind of relaxation. I-Really-Can’t-Deal-With-Anymore-Violence-and-Dark-Existence kind of escape.

Go to New York City and view Matisse: The Cut-Outs at MoMA. The show is big color, juicy fruits, humorous and happy, with a bright finish. You only need your eyes and your heart to enjoy the show. You can let your brain keep taking a long winter’s nap.

February 6th, 7th, and 8th–is the last chance to see the show and MoMA will be open 24-7. Become a member so you don’t need a timed ticket, then go see the show over and over again all night long. If you bring a friend or friends, they get in for $5.00 with your membership. See the show when you first arrive in the city. Go to dinner. Discuss. Go see the show again. Go have a drink. Go see the show again, late at night before you go to sleep. Get up early, go see the show first thing in the morning. If you did all of that, you would only be a fraction as obsessive as Matisse was with his scissors and paper. Take notes, draw pictures. Try to remember all the color combinations. Watch the movie about how they restored The Swimming Pool. Wrap your head around that kind of obsessive devotion. Go have a drink. Make plans to cut out pictures, pin them to your walls, and wear pajamas and large hats while you are at work.

Don’t worry about what people say about why you do it, what it all means, or how history is affecting you.

Let it go. Let your frozen soul spiral out of control.

Here’s Henri’s version of Oceania, The Sky–A work of art that blossomed from one scrap of paper pinned over a stain on his wall:

After I saw Henri’s wall art, I found window art, by Jack Frost, in a cabin in the woods in Vermont. Inspired, I thought about making a cut-out composition for my walls at home. Maybe I’d call it: Winter Sky, Chilled to the Bone, Stiff-Feathered Flight. Drilling that down, maybe I’ll elevate my work with an even better name, Heaveania, The Cold Dance.

There’s my coping mechanism–The Cold Dance–I’ll keep it up all winter, while finding doses of warm happiness and dreaming about hot color combinations.