The Sweep

When I lived in the Netherlands, the folks in my neighborhood in the Hague swept their front paths and the sidewalk space in front of their homes regularly, with purpose and pride, keeping those walkways fresh, clean, and inviting.

So it is when I sleep. In the night, great sweeping takes place. The tracks of one day are swept away. I wake to the fresh, clean, inviting spaciousness of a new day and step into it.

Today, already—

a walk before dawn, 

rain pattering on my umbrella, 

a vast puddle, deeper than perceived, that only gets deeper as I aim to step out of it!,

nascent Japanese maple leaves kissing brand-new dogwood blossoms in Betty's shade garden,

the tying of red ribbon around a gift,

the sweet-tart pop of blueberries for breakfast.

We Are Going to Start Dealing With Feelings

by Deciding, Once and for All, To Just Do It

1.75 x 5" bookmark; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

Objets Trouvés, fini

At four thirty today 

in this very classroom,

I am holding a seminar 

for anyone 

and everyone

who has any questions 

whatsoever

about any 
scheduling concern

or any date 

between now

and the end of time,

Mark said.

—Michael Downing, Still in Love

How New This Is, How Strange It Is to Be Here
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, IX

He followed them to the classroom,

where he would not heal them 

or even console them

but only close the door,

shut out the world 

in which 

they found themselves wanting,

not to help them escape it

but to give them a chance 

to understand

all it meant to have limits,

to need limits,

to choose our limits, 

to be defined by those limits,

and to learn to love them.

—Michael Downing, Still in Love

Ready to Try This out for One Time at Least
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, VIII

When you write, 

do you really think about limits

and try to love them?

I really do. 

If I’m not assigned a limit

for a column or an essay,

I invent one. 

When I’m, say, writing a novel,

I set a word limit 

for each chapter

so I have a clear sense 

of how much time and space 

there is for me

to get done 

what needs to get done.

—Michael Downing, Still in Love

In Willingness to Risk
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, VII

Isaac in the chair said, 

I’m so sorry I cursed.

It’s just amazing to realize 

how far I’ve gotten

without understanding 

how to write

a simple sentence.

Max said, 
Yeah, me feels like an idiot, too.

A woman near the back added,

While you were saying that

—comma—

we were all thinking the same thing.

                  —Michael Downing, Still in Love

The Porch Light Came on Overhead and the Door Opened
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, VI

I had a superb teacher in third grade,

Mark said. 

She asked us to memorize two sentences,

which I am now asking you to write down

exactly as I say them. 

Pronouncing not only the words

but also the punctuation, 

he slowly said,

When the dependent clause comes first,

you need a comma. You need no comma

when the independent clause comes first.

Someone yelled, Holy shit.

                         —Michael Downing, Still in Love

I'd like to Come over Tonight If That's Still All Right
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, V

And you need only worry 

over

two kinds of clauses.

This was the key distinction.

The Professor said, 

Insubordinate 

and subordinate.

        —Michael Downing, Still in Love

When Would You Want to Start?
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, IV

His entire lecture 

could be boiled down 

to two distinctions. 

The first was a phrase

(a series of related words

with no specific 

grammatical function,

such as 
the red hat, 

last night, 

or 
forever and a day)

versus 

a clause 

(a group of words 
that included
a noun and a related verb).

            —Michael Downing, Still in Love

I'm Talking About Getting Through the Night
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, III

We’re not going to unravel 

all of your confusion

or 

anticipate every question 

that might arise

later in the semester, 

but 

you are going to leave today

knowing absolutely 

everything 

you need to know

to write perfect 

and 

perfectly grammatical 

sentences

for the rest of your lives.

                 —Michael Downing, Still in Love

You Probably Wonder What I'm Doing Here
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Objets Trouvés, II

Despite what you may have heard,

everything you need to know 

about English grammar

is regular, reliable, and 

remarkably elegant,

Mark said, 

turning to the blackboard

and urging everyone

to take notes.

                —Michael Downing, Still in Love

And Then There Was the Day
4 x 5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas paper
abstract
2019

close-up

Talking Nonstop Over Lunch

One of the ways long-time friend and fellow artist Sylvia and I try to close the 1000-mile gap between our homes is through books. One of us orders a book to give the other on a birthday or holiday and purchases a second copy for herself so as to have a shared reading experience. To have a book we could talk about at work over lunch if we still worked at the same place and still had lunch together every day, a luxury we have sorely missed for 37 years now.

I ordered us copies of Brené Brown's newest book, Dare to Lead, to honor Sylvia's birthday this month. Because her birthday will take place a couple of weeks before the book will be released, I wanted to also send something that would arrive at birthday time.

A bookmark, you suggest? Handpainted?

Awesome idea!

The challenge: painting a bookmark to pair up visually with the book, with only online images from which to work for color matching.

A Kind of Knowledge Beyond Any Way of Knowing 1.5x6"; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel on watercolor paper abstract bookmark 2018 [gift]

I Could Have

I've taken the first bookmark of my series-in-progress and I've started developing it.

Perhaps I could have stopped right here, with these bits of print collage and nuances of paint added.

bookmark in progress

But, as those of you who know me might guess, I did not.

Wandering Down a Trail

Off on a new path today.

Same bookmark arboretum as previously, perhaps, but a different trail, with blazes of a different color.

So content to be following my muse and my paint brush.

started by journaling on a piece of watercolor paper

used a brayer and titan buff

added print collage;
mixed monochromatic colors with liquitex turquoise deep as a base;
used stencils and palette knife

resting place for today

Could Not Be More Content

Sunshine.

Dry air.

Exquisite temperature.

A painting exercise from an online workshop.

My paper trimmer.

Glue, brush, cardstock.

Bookmark.

Nephew.

Birthday.

Envelope.

Stamp.

Mailbox.

Celebration.

The Grass Rustled, the Creek Perpetually Murmured
1.75x6"; acrylic and India ink on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

Decluttering

I'm pressing pause in the development of my current Core Values patch to tell a side story.

---

Earlier this year, I went through an internal tug-of-war with decisions related to clearing my house of items I no longer need or use, often feeling emotional pangs that were at odds with practical wishes to lighten the load and make space. What to do with the aerial photo of our house that I purchased for Dave 27 years ago, the 1000s of Lego pieces, the archives of a former entrepreneurial business of mine, the delightful lid to the now-broken-and-long-gone sugar bowl that was part of our wedding china?

Concurrent with my decluttering, I happened to be reading the historical novel This Road We Traveled by Jane Kirkpatrick about an extended family that sets out on the Oregon Trail during westward expansion in the United States in the 1800s to travel roughly 2000 miles in covered wagons pulled by oxen. I was particularly attentive to the many decisions this family has to make.

While loading their wagons before departure: What to bring? What to leave behind? Far along the trail, with scarce food and declining strength in both humans and animals, and miles and mountains yet to traverse: What to continue conveying? What to leave beside the trail? Something as small as a Bible, or smaller, might need to be discarded because the cumulative weight of even thimbles and sentimentally-cherished letter openers exceeds the ability to transport.

This story comes to mind again as one of my friends prepares to put her house on the market this summer and move to a smaller home. What might I give her for her birthday that won't feel like one more thing to pack, one more thing that will take up space in her new place?

Two answers:
• the gift of a beach walk and cup of coffee on a sunny blue-skied spring morning in May, and
• two handpainted bookmarks : )

Whistlings, Warblings, Wildness, and Joy
5x1.75"; acrylics, ink, and oil pastel on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

Pull at the Quill Pen, Tip the Ink Bottle
5x1.75"; acrylics, ink, and watercolor pastel on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]