Wrapping Up

Soaking up stillness as 2018 wraps up and ties a bow around itself.

5 x 7" work in progress

A Certain Quietness of Mind
9 x 11.5"; acrylic, latex, and collage
abstract
2018

A Certain Quietness of Mind
matted and framed, 12 x 16"

Sleep Cycles

You know how you go through sleep cycles at night, moving from light to deep sleep and back again several times? Seems that I am going through similar sleep cycles in my hibernation.

A few days ago I rose up from deep sleep to light and came fully awake briefly. Just had to paint bookmarks for Caroline and Emmy to accompany the books that are gifts for Christmas. As ever, SOOO satisfying.

Then … zzzzzzz.

       An illuminated novel by Dana Kumerow with 
        illustrations by Brittany Tate and Jen Walls 

                                     House of Dreams: The Life of L. M. Montgomery
                                   by Liz Rosenberg, illustrated by Julie Morstad

Sure Enough

A poem from Ted Kooser's collection, Winter Morning Walks—

December 17

Clear and twenty-four at sunrise.

A cold wind out of the west all night.
Where our row of Norwegian pines
lines the road, there were lots of joined pairs
of needles this morning, blown over the grass
and onto the shoulder, every pair
an elongated V, coated with frost,
and each pointing east-southeast,
where, sure enough, the sun was waiting.

I wish to be still enough to notice joined pairs of Norwegian pine needles blown over grass, present enough to notice that each pair points to where the sun is waiting.

And so I am setting an intention to slow way down. My unfinished paintings and I plan to hibernate for a bit, to step back and see what unfolds.

Then, in the new year, sure enough, we'll stretch our limbs, shake our sleepy heads, and take stock.

naptime

Jumble

Jumble bells, jumble bells, jumble all the way.

Or something like that.

So much calling out for my attention, daylight hours diminishing by the day, tasks started but not completed, plans leapfrogging other plans, studio time disjointed—jumble all the way, I tell ya!

Apropos of nothing, and with unfinished paintings to the left of me, unfinished paintings to the right of me, here's what I started painting today, letting my inner jumble out onto a large sheet of paper.

marks, scribbles

leftover paint from previous projects

work in progress

Spinning a Yarn

I am fascinated recently by the stories we tell ourselves, the yarns we spin.

Today I literally told my paint story with yarn. Wanting a 'paintbrush' that would be loose, floppy, and unpredictable, I raided a basket of yarn, cut some short lengths, and taped them to the handle end of a paintbrush. Perfect.

paint knife, fan brush, homemade yarn brush

Continued playing with yesterday's WIP.

detail, work in progress

Speaking of yesterday, and speaking of stories, allow me to finish spinning my yarn about the online order gone wrong. Having belly-laughed at a proposed 209-minute wait to speak with a customer service representative, I hung up and got on with things. Good decision. Later in the day, customer service actually responded to the email I'd sent four days earlier; the company offered to print up my order and ship it to multiple addresses (for the third time!) for free (for the second time!), and provided me follow-these-easy-steps directions.

Directions were, of course, not so easy. But I prevailed!

Only thing left is for the order to be printed correctly and mailed. Fingers crossed!

Running on Empty

Not for the first time at this point in any given astronomical year, I find myself running on empty, yearning for a snug little cave in which to curl up for a month or two.

This feeling was especially strong yesterday when I called the customer service number for an order gone wrong and was informed by a recorded voice that the wait time to speak with a representative was 209 minutes.

209.

Really???

Good night.

In the absence of a suitable cave, I picked up a paint brush.

 WIP, first marks

WIP, layers of greens

WIP, more color and texture

WIP, scribbles

The Holidays

My prayer this afternoon: Let me live every day as a holy day.

Ha! I'm not there yet. Went to take a photo after painting today. Battery dead in my phone. Charged it. Went outside to catch some late afternoon sun for light. My phone had no storage left. Zero. Could not take a single photo. Waited for Dave to come home so I could use his phone. Sun had gone down.

All I could say was, Holy moly.

---

Sometime last week, I took the start that I first posted on November 29 and cut it into quadrants. I continued developing one of those quadrants today, and then played with putting it under a mat and into a frame. Right now it's perched on a dresser and each time I see it, I feel as though I'm looking out a window.

work in progress

An Afternoon in Early December

My insides feel crowded and frenetic. As though my mind got poked with pins, and my thoughts got loose and are now running roughshod throughout the entire all of me.

Well then.

Thank goodness my feet know to walk to my studio. It is no easy task to outrun thoughts but, while I paint? … inner stillness.

detail, work in progress

Leaving a Trail

Hansel and Gretel left a trail behind themselves so they could retrace their steps to the safety of home. In the past few weeks I left a knee-deep, tangled, piled-on-top-of-itself trail in my home such that home is the last place I want to be!

However, today I relocated work-in-progress started November 23rd and posted on the 29th. Plus, I remembered photos I took that show how I developed the piece a bit further sometime between the 29th and today.

Itchy to get going again.

Last Seen at the Paper Trimmer

Last seen at my paper trimmer, each member of this series developed with quick intuitive touches of paint, ink, and oil pastel.

I sat with each until a title fell into place, then framed them and snapped photos (photographing art that's under glass? oy).

You Know What Is So and What Is Not
8 x 10" in 12 x 16" birch frame; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

Everything That Happens to You Is Your Teacher
8 x 10" in 12 x 16" birch frame; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

Sit at the Feet of Your Own Life
8 x 10" in 12 x 16" birch frame; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

See for Yourself How the Light Strikes the Ground
8 x 10" in 12 x 16" birch frame; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

Open Studio

Have to say it's kinda fun when my 'kids' and I have someplace special to go, and we run around excitedly getting ready—taking showers, styling our hair just so, putting on accessories, and preening in front of full-length mirrors.

On Saturday, some of the kids were so excited to get out that they decided not to return home!

my 'kids' all gussied up at Porter Mill Open Studios 12/1/18