(Parenthetical Project) 2

Not until just recently did I take notice that the root of the words parentheses (noun, plural), parenthesis (noun, singular), and parenthetical (adjective) is thesis. 

Huh.

Nor did I really know the etymology of the word thesis—late Middle English via late Latin from Greek, literally 'placing, a proposition,' from the root of tithenai 'to place.'

Parenthesis means 'a putting in beside,' from para- 'beside' + en- 'in' + tithenai 'to put, to place.

Yup, I'm putting one project in beside another.

A close-up glimpse of two of my parenthetical pieces in progress—

Starting Point

Every feeling except love is not-love.

Love. Not-love.

Let's go with that as a starting point.

I Awake Under the Dome of Pre-Dawn
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, India ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

Unmoving, I Yet Move with Everything on Earth
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, India ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

All the Time

A moment of zen is mine for the living whenever long-time friend Sarah, now a dog coach, posts on Instagram.

Recently:

Every living thing is learning, all the time. You can teach crazy or you can teach calm. The choice is yours.

Oh.

Yeah.

Now I remember. 

The choice is mine, crazy or calm. I feel myself breathing more deeply already.

No Boundaries Between Me and the Ground and the Grass
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, India ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

No Boundaries Between Me and the Planets
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, India ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2018

Perspective

I'm captivated lately by shifting perspective, those experiences of suddenly seeing through new eyes, whether spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, and/or—more literally—visually.

Today I start with stuff. Stuff in drawers and baskets, stuff in boxes and folders—a transparent acrylic skin made in October, a painting exercise from 2016, calendar posters from 2014, a black envelope that came in the mail who knows when and bearing who knows what.

Cut a snippet of the acrylic skin, cut the painting exercise, cut the envelope, cut the calendar pages.

Blink.

Through new eyes unrelated stuff becomes two elegant greeting cards, completing a quartet whose other members stepped out together yesterday.

I think [s]he saw art 
where other people
saw nothing,
but that's the nature
of the artist
in the first place,
isn't it?

-Elizabeth George, For the Sake of Elena

Moon Lifts, Sun Drops, Pines Pirouette
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and watercolor pastel
abstract
2018

Lasso the Flames and Sparks If You Can
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, collage, and watercolor pastel
abstract
2018

Multiplication

To multi-ply is to many-fold and, starting at a young age, my son Scott took a shine to folding paper airplanes, which led me to get him a beginner's book of origami instructions and a package of paper, which in turn led him, at age six, to have an exhibit at our public library of origami figures he'd folded, an exhibit that included an 18-inch-long Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton made from 21 squares of paper, each of which had many, many, many folds.

So it is that when I go rag-picking today, I find origami paper among my odds and ends, providing the perfect backdrop to two found compositions extracted from a 2016 improv exercise. Together, these elements become mono-fold greeting cards.

The Sun So Bright It Bounces Off the Water
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, collage, and watercolor pastel
abstract
2018
sold

The Moon Folds Over and Then Straightens Out Again
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and watercolor pastel
abstract
2018

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]