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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


Musings, Mutterings and New Work


This is a long one.
You might want to refill your beverage.

I had a conversation over Christmas that has really stuck with me over the last two weeks and I feel that I need to share my train of though here in a confessional-sort-of-way.

I believe that part of being an artist is to feel life most keenly. This means the ups are sometimes magically high, laughter and mirth bubble up from your toes and the cup of joy runneth over. But this also means the lows feel that much more potent, crushing and dark. Sadness and frustration steal any semblance of eloquence from my tongue and I sit mutely. Writing in that place is akin to lancing a boil: that dark substance that has inhabited my body but is not a part of me must be released, bled dry, given exodus before I can stitch the wound and begin healing. I do not see this as all negative. Rather I find that the rawest parts of me lead the way to the most profound revealings. Many of my most "important" paintings (edit: important to my self-awareness-development) I've only been able to finish after a near existential crisis which lead me to new knowledge and renewed faith. In the struggle there is growth.

Which leads to what it is I really need to say:

I need the dark confines, those hard pages of my sketchbook to hold my secret murmurings safe. Not safe from anyone or anything, but safe for me. It's a subtle difference but one that means the world to me. As I begin this new year, renewing my focus and instating new goals, I wish to share ever deeper the lessons I learn though this thing I loosely term "art making." But there will be things I can not share publicly in order to maintain a safe boundary around myself and the great wide world. There will be days (as there always have been) when I can not bring myself to engage via the internet because my melancholy runs too close to the surface, and I wish more than anything, to be allowed to feel that genuinely.

I know you understand, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Now, in exchange for allowing me to get that off my chest, I want to share some new work that will be flitting it's way into The Shop pronto.

Our Lady of Quiet Tidings
6" x 6"
Our Lady herself (the original painting!) will be soon residing in the shop along with prints in her likeness. I have always harbored a love for religious iconography of all persuasions but particularly that which has to do with storytelling (creation stories, the annunciation, exchanges between mortals and immortals, the ascension, I could go on). I do not believe that we as humans are the only beings to give and receive messages, in fact, I believe that we can receive our messages anytime we're open to hearing them. I believe the collective wisdom of nature offers the richest lessons in true faith and honest love, and I can hear it all on the trill of a small beak.

Santo DeeDee
4" x 4"
Along with Our Lady, Santo DeeDee and his likenesses will be chirping right over to the shop. And believe you me, he has a trill unlike any other.

Searching the Forest for the Trees
5" x 5"
I don't know that I can live without this one. We had a long talk this past weekend; as I sipped tea and listened to Jeff Buckley and poured out my soul to this little painting, she opened her eyes and saw me so clearly. I need to live with her. However, she also has consented to prints in the Etsy shop, and is ready to view your path clearly when your lashes are too soaked with emotion to see.

I feel quiet inside. I think it's time to retreat to the joy of my filberts.

Peace this afternoon friendlies,
- Umber