Streetable #8

It used to comfort me, 
as a little girl, 
to look at my mother’s jewelry. 
I used to try on 
the heavy gold bracelets, 
the pearl necklaces, 
the rings, 
all at once. 
I liked pinning the brooches 
in a line down my chest, 
the fabric of my shirt 
sagging from the weight.

Elizabeth Berg, Open House

"All You Need Now, Edith, is Lipstick," Little Bear Said
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic, ink, fabric paint, and collage
abstract
2020

before Edith and Little Bear discovered
the beautiful dressing room with the big mirror

You Can't Think Up an Idea

Again, from Lyanda Lynn Haupt's Mozart's Starling:

People always ask where I get the ideas for my books; I think all authors hear this question. And, at least for me, there is only one answer: You can't think up an idea. Instead, an idea flies into your brain—unbidden, careening, and wild, like a bird out of the ether. And though there is a measure of chance, luck, and grace involved, for the most part ideas don't rise from actual ether; instead, they spring from the metaphoric opposite—from the rich soil that has been prepared, with and without our knowledge, by the whole of our lives: what we do, what we know, what we see, what we dream, what we fear, what we love. 

Even when I might not like what appears on my canvas as I paint, I am suffused with wonder.

What is it that shows up?

Are today's marks and colors informed by the day my dad taught me how to use a Brownie camera in our front yard in Cranford when I was 8 or 9? By the peanut butter sandwich I ate for dinner when banished to solitude on the day in fifth grade when I refused to take my piano lesson? By the conversation I had yesterday with the plumber installing a shower drain in our upstairs bathroom?

newest patch

detail

detail

new patch in the big picture
work in progress
working title: Core Values

---

This patch last seen looking like this:

Stu-Art

Today's piece is the child of a parent piece painted last August as I prepared some starts in happy anticipation of attending Takodah family camp where I would spend a bit of time painting each morning.

Parent:


Parent dressed in finery:


First child:


Second child:


Third child:


Fourth child:


Speaking of anticipation, as I did above, twenty-four years ago I had the great honor to be one of the people supporting my sister Lauren while she was in labor before delivering her second son. Those were hours of great anticipation followed by the great excitement of welcoming Stuart to the world.

And, speaking of welcoming new life, as I just did, let me announce the birth of the fifth child of the parent piece I created last August—a bookmark I painted for Stuart for his birthday this year!

Happy birthday, Stuart!

Squinting Into the Darkened Pine-Scented Interior
5x1.75"; acrylic, ink, collage, and pastels on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

Nosegay

Back at our cottage, bursting with the important news of our wildflower finds, my sisters and I select a vase from the tiny open-shelved kitchen, fill it with water and, with great ceremony and a fair amount of mess, create a nosegay—or tussie mussie, as such an arrangement is also called—of

• daisy fleabane,
• buttercups,
• blanketflower,
• purple asters,
• scarlet beebalm, and
• cornflowers.

Summer magic!

newest patch

detail

new patch in the bigger picture;
working title: Core Values

What?

I stop here, resting in I-don't-know.

newest patch

detail from patch

newest patch, in the bigger picture
working title: Core Values

Outlaw Thoughts, and Layers 12, 13, and 14/100

Those of you who follow my painting adventures might remember that I started a 100layersofpaint challenge a few weeks ago. I moved through eleven layers, and then fell off the radar screen.

Two reasons for the disappearance. First, I was thinking of becoming an outlaw. I don't actually know what the rules of the challenge are but I was considering breaking them. I really liked layer 11, and I'm the boss of my painting life, so why not stop?

Just as important, however, was the fact that I got busy with other projects. A wedding and a bunch of birthdays came along and I wanted to paint for them. So I did.

All the while, I kept my challenge piece in view where I drank in its details and energy each time I sat at my laptop or met with tutees.

Then, a few days ago, again for two reasons, I decided to wield my brush anew. First, I'd continued to see posts on Instagram of those who've faithfully added a layer every day—they're up to thirty-something layers (!) now—and the daily changes are an ongoing invitation. Just as important, however, was the fact that the longer I honored my attachment to layer 11 by letting the painting remain unchanged, the less attached I felt.

So a few days ago I picked up a foam brush, a tube of black, and a squeeze bottle of fabric paint. Layer 12.

layer 12/100

The next day, I rotated my gessobord and used ink pen and paint pen to add white circles and dots. Layer 13. I am fascinated by the repeat experience of loving what I see in front of me, change after change after change.

layer 13/100

A day later, I glued strips of tissue collage and squeezed some white fabric paint onto my canvas. Layer 14.

layer 14/100