Thursday, May 1, 2014

heat and change

The warmth this month has brought with it a crescendo of big change, and all the energy I need to adapt and keep growing to the new, often unfamiliar beat.  The peas I put in the ground a few days ago were, on their fledgling night outside, pummeled by eight hours of thunderstorm, and I found many the next morning lying on top of the soil, unraveling a brave root in the morning sun.  I buried them again and the sun went into hiding for two days, though it stayed warm beneath the glorious cloudscape.  And this morning, when the sun rose and shone bright, those peas shot their first leaves up above the soil, ready for anything.  I am learning from them how to make the most of my own days, to be stubbornly adaptive and stay true to my goals.  Spring is quite a lot to take in after such a long time in our houses and heads.

These paintings, three still in progress, come from this dance I must create in response to the changing weather.  Often I am finding new liveliness in the dance, when my feet stumble into some hidden grace or joy.  And sometimes I must find buried courage to bend my heart or mind in ways that I fear will hurt.

Rhapsody April 2014- (in progress)

Winter's Bidding February 2014 

Heart, Hearth and Home February 2014

Equinox March 2014

Rapture September 2013- (in progress)

Everything, Everywhere, Always December 2013- (in progress)    five thumbnails, followed by the big picture

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Album release: Young Cries by Tutlie

These sweet folks asked me three years ago to design their album art.  It was finally released this month for the public's listening pleasure!  Congrats, Jessie and Christina.  Text by the very talented Laura Weiser.

Monday, February 24, 2014

work, frozen to thawing


This winter brought with it dark and poignant dreams, gradual and vibrant discoveries, and a new acceptance for the times mystery and the unfamiliar come forth without the comfort of clarity or understanding.  There have been times I have reached out seeking answers and only retrieved mud, but I am learning that a handful of mud has a distinct texture, smell, temperature and weight.  It takes patience to learn the words for what we are experiencing or noticing for the first time.  The new does not want to be gripped too tightly; it will squirm away from you first.

I think because so often I was without words for my experiences, I allowed simple and automatic symbols to flow from my fingers instead.  I have found comfort in the practice of drawing quickly and often, though meaning is so slow to catch up.  Sometimes, meditation brings inklings of stories or themes behind this work, though I do not pretend yet to see the whole.  The titles of the pieces reflect how young is my relationship to this particular body of work.  I do see reflected in my drawing a desire to accept all the shifts and surprises each day brings, as I search for home in my connection to place, person, dream, and self.

before broken

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