On the Subject of Why

Lately I've chatted with a few fine ladies about the love I've developed for painting on the sea stones I gather, and it occurred to me that the reasons really should be shared aloud.

I have long held the belief that we can chose to permeate out lives with art, from what we choose to hang on our walls to what we choose to hang around our necks, from the books we read to the music we hear, from the way we arrange our homes to the people we invite in.  Nearly every element we choose to surround ourselves has the capability to be a source of inspiration, of beauty, of joy, or just pure, simple pleasure.

I create art because not creating has never been an option; it is as vital to me as water and bread.  I have always made things with my hands, always seen images in my mind, always heard the call to translate that which I experience into that which can be seen.  But over the last couple years, it has become increasingly important to me that my art does not hang on a cold and distant wall, roped off, please stay three feet back and hold all photography.  With every passing day it become more vital that my art finds an element of intimacy, a breaking down of the barriers of traditional painting and what is considered "Art" by the gallery system.

There is something primal about creating small work, work that invites the touch and asks to be held.  That through the sense of feel we are able to gather a deeper, fuller understanding than we would ever be able to gather from sight alone.  I am a highly tactile person, a kinesthetic learner, I need to touch in order to unravel the puzzle that is my own life.  I need to feel in order to create a connection, to trigger that place in my soul which opens to the possibility of what learning may come.  It is this contact that grounds my feet and elates my heart, allowing me to focus and dream simultaneously.

Which brings me to the sea stones.

I have stones arranged in trays, stacked on windowsills, tumbled in messenger bags, each awaiting their specific imagery.  When I begin a new stone, I choose it carefully, rubbing it with my thumb and weighing it in my palm, turning it this way and that.  Waiting to see what image it calls forth, or if I have begun with an image I know I must paint, waiting to see what stone was meant to hold it.  When I paint, I hold the stone, rotating it with my forefinger while the brush slides over it's surface.  My mind settles into the rhythm of work and my body sways along to the music playing.  Somedays I choose a stone to hold while I meditate before filling the water jars and squeezing the paint tubes, allowing the weight of the earth to quiet my body in order to clear my head of the jumble of the day (I become particularly attached to those ones).  Sometimes it's as serious as can be, other times lighthearted to the point of silliness, but it is never random.

All that to say, it is my JOY to send these small pieces of art to the four corners of the world.  To send them knowing that you will hold them, run a finger over their smoothed surfaces, feel their heft and the residual cold of the northern Pacific Ocean, that they will sit close as the kind of art one is always allowed to touch.

Joy, I tell you, joy.

It is exactly the direction I wish to travel.

These stones, plus a few others (including one Barn Owl!!) are ready for your consideration, no reservations this time.  I'll be listing them in the shop of wonders tomorrow, Wednesday November 10th at 11:00 am PST.

Additionally, I've been contacted by a slew of wonderful birds about offering custom orders.  After careful consideration, I've decided to follow in the footsteps of some wise friends and will be placing FOUR CUSTOM ORDER LISTINGS in the shop during the update.  The listings will give us a framework to discuss YOUR piece of art, be it your totem animal, flora or fauna.  I'm jazzed like a jumble of honey bees to work on these!  There is a very real sense of magic to give life to an image so specifically intended and I can't wait to hear from you!

WELL!
Steady rain, steamy tea and loads of white gouache to each of you!
mmmmmmuah!

Family Expansion

To my beloved interwebular community

(friendlies, bloganistas, readers of the utmost kind)

I'd like to introduce you to our newest member of the family:

Say Hello to Shelterwood's Knightly Sancho

Sancho spells hi with his tongue.

And then crashes hard; he is after all, just a little puppy.  I was going to try and wait until he was officially home with us (which will be next week) but after we met him in person over the weekend, I just couldn't hold out.

I'm in deep smit.  

He's the little beastie we've been waiting and planning for for ages, from his current wiggle-worm state of six pounds (the wrinkly butt stage!  swoon over the cuteness!) to the full seventy-plus pound boxer he'll become.

Oh Sancho, I can hardly wait.

Come home soon, we're ready for you!

Glee List

- GLEE LIST -

Waking up to no less than 1557 new emails (ok, totally less than that) ALL from the feistiest sisters of soul who had me snorting and belly laughing before the tea kettle whistled.

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Wearing pink corduroy pants I found thrifted earlier this week with a bright green cardigan and realizing I had sneakers that matched perfectly (yes. pink and green VELCRO. sweet).  It was so matchy matchy I had to complete the look with a hot raspberry-pink-pumpkin beanie.  I looked like a strawberry pistachio swirl, which suited my mood just fine. ** side note: do you dress according to mood?  I find that some days I need to change half way through the day just to accommodate a sudden need for more mustard or less cobalt.**

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Eating the first nibbles of venison jerky from the very heart and soul of Montana.  Don't tell my vegetarian self, but THAT was some tasty flesh. 

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Booking plane tickets to Seattle for next week to see her.  There will be breakfast out and we'll be splitting the eggs benny.

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Opening my mail box and finding a Polaroid of so much greenery all the way from Australia.  And hoping to hug the bones of the one who sent it oh so soon.

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Receiving pictures of four more legs that will be joining our family in less than two weeks.  I'm already weak in the knees.  HE'S SO CUTE I MIGHT EAT HIM.  I'm going to try really hard not to, but ohmygosh!  More on that later...
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What's on you list?
I'll be waiting to hear!

Not on the "glee list" necessarily BUT I'll be receiving Chemo Infusion Number 6 in just a few short hours, on Thursday November 3rd.  Six down, only two more to go!  Rounding the curve and racing toward the finish line!  HiyyyYA!

Sketchbook Writings

It was entirely too delicious out to hole up inside today, even though my studio is spanking clean and looks like one of those kitchen photographs that are too perfect to believe anyone actually uses the oven. That will change all too soon, but for the moment, I'll glory in all that is fresh and squeaky.

I left the house today with the singular intention of Serious Errand Running, you know, pick up the mail, grab some epson salt, buy two more finch sock bird feeders (the original feeder suffered the craftiness of the crows who managed to sling it up and over it's bough, then rip huge gashes in the fabric in order to gluttonize on the sweet sweet taste of thistle seed.  I can never find it in me to be upset at the crows; I have too much love for their iron will to thrive).  But when I tossed my sketchbook in the back seat of the Jeep, I knew other plans would arise.

I needed to write, to pour out the words that were bound up tight between my ribs, shortening my breath.   I also needed coffee and and an almond croissant, but the words were what gave me back my joy.  And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to share it with you in the name of all things honest.

- From my sketchbook writings, November 1st 2010 -

Last week dragged me through more mud than I was prepared to admit.  I thought I had finally learned how to deal with chemo, learned what to expect, learned that I could lay low for a couple days after an infusion and then jump right back on the fast track to Doing.  To Work.  To Life.  But this last round, this new drug, snuck up on me like a snake in the grass: I was striding freely, raising my head to greet the dawn, the first break of light blinding my face when he bit me hard in the achilles.  I fell and forgot how to crawl.

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I'm climbing this ladder to nirvana, this ladder of self-discovery and self-truth.  I've learned a certain gentleness I've never know over these past few months; I've surprised myself with how carefully I can hold my own soul.  My feet have found their steadiness on this particular rung, and the words I've tried out now feel comfortable on the tongue.  Be Easy.  Forgive.  Your worth remains an untapped source.

But we are never static creatures.  And what worked before will not always work now.  The discomfort and exhaustion of now requires a new looking glass entirely.  And so I must reach up a hand and grab the next rung, feel my fingers grip firmly and trust that the ladder will hold even though the sunlight dazzles my eyes and my knees shake.

***

Kindness.

I think that's the key.  To see clearly, to observe myself from across the room and say "you there, sitting straight-backed and cross-legged.  You ARE where you are intended to be and these trials are lessons if you can only see them.  These events may etch themselves on your skin but they do not determine who you are.  

You are still worthy, 

still progressing, 

still creative, 

still lovely, 

still filled with light,

still exactly who you are meant to be."

Kindness.

I would wrap myself in a prayer flag made of kindness so that with every step I took, the wind would carry that message to the four corners of the earth, alighting like raindrops on the eyebrows of every person reaching blindly upward for that next handhold.

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Vermilion

I'm hungry for color.

I lay awake in bed last night for what felt like hours (it may have been), listening to the melodic song of the wind chimes and the pounding of the rain on the roof.  Every now and then the rhododendron planted right on the other side of the wall from my head would thump loudly and I'd jump, whacking a kitty boy out of his snoring slumber curled up in the crook of my legs (yes. the orange one snores like an old yoda).  I finally gave in, clicked on the bedside lamp and attempted to pour my thoughts down in my sketchbook (I find, without fail, the nights I leave my sketchbook elsewhere in the house are the nights a steady stream of thoughts interrupt my sleep until I am forced to sneak out of bed and retrieve it).  But all I could write about was color.  Sing gave me one disdainful sleepy-glare and crawled under the covers to be spooned (also yes. the kitty boys have learned that under the covers is a magical world of warmth and snuggles, provided they don't suffocate.  we tell them it's the risk they take and that all good things come with a price).

Yesterday, alongside a cornmeal-berry scone I wrote to a friend about the phenomena that is living in a world of evergreens.  Right here on the coast, with the ocean waters lapping no less than one mile from my front door, I'm surrounded by dense verdant, a constant canopy of emerald and a floor of jade.  The rains have marked the turning of the season, as though someone promptly flipped a switch, turned down the thermostat and declared it officially Autumn.  I know my toes are colder, and I've bought three new pairs of tights in the past two weeks (grey cabled sweater, herringbone in cream and black, and a deep berry red), so it must be true.

I suppose what this means is that I must open my eyes a little wider to catch the crimson fluttering down. I must spend a little more time trespassing in neighbors' yards scooping up great handfuls of scarlet to bring home and press in the treasure trove that is the back of my sketchbook (currently pressing a massive quantity of ferns, fallen leaves and crow feathers - it's a dangerous item to carry around, like Gretel I leave a trail of fallen items to find my way home).  I must eat more pomegranates.  But that's the easy part.  

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Off to pour a second cup of tea and put up a fresh inspiration wall in the studio.

oh yes!

SPEAKING of color, I'm in the market for some mustard colored tights, not halloween yellow, not pale buttercup, but MUSTARD (my other newest color obsession).  Any leads ladies?