Well I'm on my way
I don't know where I'm going
I'm on my way
I'm taking my time but I don't know where
—Paul Simon
All true:
• I'm on my way,
• I don't know where I'm going, and
• I'm taking my time.
Also true:
• This piece did not go at all where I thought it might; and
• I'm grateful to be working in a sketchbook because it frees me up to go more easily wherever a painting takes me.
 |
Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard 7 x 10"; acrylic and ink in sketch book abstract 2022 |
Yeah.
Wasn't getting there under my 'own' steam.
Invited outrageous openness.
Got out of the way.
Went about my business.
And then some days later found myself in my studio finger-painting.
Grateful.
 |
work in progress; finger-painting with acrylic in sketchbook |
Eventually got up off the floor yesterday afternoon.
Gave my head a metaphorical soak in the bracing Atlantic.
Then channeled a jumble of emotions and memories and energy into playing with some emerging ideas. You know the age-old game of rock-paper-scissors? I played paper-scissors-glue instead.
Countless little surprising challenges surfaced related to positive and negative space, composition, values contrast, and loopy cut-paper strips that were not easily tamed.
SO. ENGAGING.
 |
Follow the Steps as They Appear 4.5 x 6" two-page sketchbook spread; acrylic, collage, and oil pastel shapes 2022 |
Good thing I'm heading out of my house into fresh air in a few minutes to put myself in the face of a windy seaside walk at West Beach followed by a picnic. Even though I've already logged 14,547 steps today, I've been sitting on my butt for too long this afternoon. I need to soak my head in bracing cold water.
Probably will only do that last part metaphorically.
 |
work in process, way early stages |
On my nightstand:
We sat at the table
in silence for awhile.
A beam of light from the window
fell across the table,
and I watched
little particles of dust
float around in it.
They looked so bright and detailed.
Like some kind of kinetic art.
Beyond that I saw the lemon halves
still lying on the counter.
Not yet squeezed.
—Katherine Ryan Hyde, Chasing Windmills
On my easel:
 |
To Know This Now for the Jewel It Is 4.5 x 6" two-page sketchbook spread; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel abstract 2022 |
On my nightstand:
The Offering
August 21, 2015
These woods
on the edges of a lake
are settling now
to winter darkness.
Whatever was going to die
is gone—
crickets, ferns, swampgrass.
Bare earth fills long spaces of a field.
But look:
a single oak leaf
brown and shining
like a leather purse.
See what it so delicately offers
lying upturned on the path.
See how it reflects in its opened palm
a cup of deep, unending sky.
—Laura Foley
On my easel:
I am suffused this afternoon with the fullness of life, the single oak leaf, the art and creative experimentation of Michelle Burns.
I've returned to the sketchbook I hand-folded from a single sheet of paper earlier this month. Got going with an idea on the first two-page interior spread only to see that I've unwittingly set myself up with challenges I hadn't anticipated. Fun! Eager to discover what this piece has to teach me and how I might resolve it.
 |
4.5 x 6", work in progress on paper |
On my nightstand:
Just hold still.
Breathe.
Feel yourself breathe.
Feel your beating heart.
If it wants to break, let it break.
That is all.
—Jan Frazier, from a forthcoming book
On my easel:
I circled back to an exercise started ten days ago. In short order my brain shifted from left side to right. Love when that happens. Every single time it happens.
 |
You Do Not Have a Road Map to Guide You 7 x 7.5"; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel on sketchbook paper abstract landscape 2022 |
