So funny to observe the hesitation, the nervousness, the maybe-I-need-to-do-something-in-the-kitchen-first angst that can—and does—often precede my undertaking a next step in my studio. Today, it was picking up a marker and doing some new blind contour drawings that had me feeling unduly timid.
Eventually took the plunge:
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| face in progress (this guy is making me look relaxed!) |
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| face in progress (can you see the stalker in the background?!) |
Activating Canvases
This, then, just before five a.m.—
Like confectioner's sugar
sifted lightly on gingerbread,
a dusting of snow on the ground.
I am the first
to walk my street.
Well, the first in shoes.
Unobserved earlier, a rabbit
has tracked up the gessoed canvas
of our driveway to
pass between the corner
of the garage and the corner
of the back deck.
Another left the safety
of Dale's leafless raspberry canes
to dart across Prospect Street
for the safety
of the leafless canes
of our red-twig dogwood shrub.
So, too, no one observed
the cluster of deer who
ignored social distancing
guidelines to walk flank to flank
up and down the length
of our hushed street
before I stepped outdoors
into the velvet dark of predawn
to make my own Thursday morning story
with quiet marks.
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Later the same day I head to my studio for some indoor mark-making using paint, ink, and collage. Four new chaos layers ready to play with.
Between winter snow flurries I've witnessed a flurry of a different sort. A short while back, a collector purchased The Friend Who Writes Letters Longhand. When Longhand found out she'd be moving to new digs at the end of February she was very excited!
Then a few weeks later, the same collector expressed interest in purchasing The Friend Who Uses an Enameled Spoon as a Postcard and inquired as to whether I thought Longhand and Enameled Spoon would "go together" well.
Omg! Matchmaking!
We both agree they'll make an adorable couple. Plus, they have in common their inclination to correspond in ways other than standard social media. Really, what are the chances?
Well! Longhand got all in a dither when she found out Enamaled Spoon would also be moving to the same new digs at the end of February! She immediately pulled off the years-old, insubstantial tired shirt she had on and spent much of Saturday ratting through her closet looking for something to wear on moving day—she tried on this, tried on that, tossed stuff on the bed, discarded items on the floor, preened in front of a mirror, and tested touches of makeup before she finally settled on a look that showed off her features to alluring advantage without being over the top.
She's a little more relaxed now, but she is counting the days till moving day.
I have a fierce urge to shove this guy out in high winds to rough up that mop on his head—he is in desperate need of a hair out of place!
I'm laughing to myself as I realize this is not the first time I've had an urge to take charge of someone else's hair. Years ago I tutored an engaging bright boy who was middle school age. For the two or three years I worked with him he sported a 'rattail' hairstyle, a style characterized by a long thin braid growing downward from the back of his head. Can't tell you how many times I fantasized pulling out a pair of shears and snipping off that 10" braid! It was just begging me to make mischief!
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| The Friend Who Signs Every Single Photo of Himself in My Senior Yearbook 9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, pencil, and collage on drawing paper abstract face 2021 $45 |
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| blind contour drawing on top of cool-colors chaos layer |
Years ago—maybe as many as 30? is that possible?!—I jotted a postcard to my friend Stu, whom I'd met at Takodah family camp in NH at least 10 years prior to jotting said postcard, to ask what kind of pen he'd been using at camp that August to doodle in his pocket sketch book.
A week or 10 days later, I found an empty water bottle in my mailbox and wondered who'd picked up street litter and placed it in with my mail.
But, ha! This was no litter. It was an 'envelope' inside of which sat a small bit of paper with the pen info I'd requested from Stu.
Even though "OMG" was not yet in the common vernacular, my internal reaction was, O.M.G! My immediate next thought was, Two can play at this game!
And I was off and running, viewing correspondence by mail in a whole new light. WAY fun.
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| The Friend Who Uses an Enamaled Spoon as a Postcard 9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, and pastel on drawing paper abstract face $45 sold |
Is there a genetic marker related to political interest, intelligence, and aptitude? If so, I am missing that gene.
I am just not, by nature, a political creature. Never have been.
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| The Friend Who Gives Me a Crash Course on Current Events at Lunch So I Can Pass My Sixth Period Honors History Quiz 9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, and collage on drawing paper abstract face 2021 $45 |
Now there were even more threads to gather up and spin onto bobbins.
This idiom, previously unknown to me, charms me as I hear it expressed in a lovely and distinct British accent in the audio recording of a novel set in post-WWI Depression-era London.
Is that a delicious little sentence or what?
Even more threads to gather up.
And spin onto bobbins.
Yes! Gather up those threads! Spin them onto bobbins! Everything in order! Everything in its place!
I say it aloud more than once as I move through my day—it is such an eminently usable assertion.
…
Have you seen my bobbins anywhere?
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| Even More Threads to Gather Up 4 x 5.5" postcard, acrylic, ink, and collage abstract 2021 |
