There are days when the urge to crawl out of my skin, shed everything, and somehow reposition myself in the universe is strong. I know this is a piece of the human condition. We all experience that uneasy urgency from time to time. We are not potatoes, nestled in their silent dark pockets of earth, content with simply gathering moisture and developing starches. We are fidgeting, curious, meddling humans. We precipitate conflict, create obstacles, feel love and pain, desire things, reject other things, worry, and wonder. Some days, when my human-ness reaches full tilt, I look to the potato for a bit of perspective.
The Final Five
I know, there are actually seven tomatoes in this photo, but upon slicing them open, two were unusable. These were the last of our summer tomatoes and as I chopped them up for garnish on our pesto pasta last night I said a little melancholy goodbye to the harvest season. We are beginning the long damp march through winter, a time for rain boots, hot soup, and sewing projects involving wool.
playing around
This morning I got my work for the Portland show boxed up and sent off, cleaned off my studio tables, did my prep work for teaching, and posted art on ebay for the first time. These last two hours I spent experimenting with some colored woolen samples a friend gave me. I made these odd little strips. They remind me of ladders or DNA strands. I’m not sure what I’ll do with them.
just leaf it!
I have to fight the urge to pick up every one of these spectacularly bright leaves when I find them strewn on the pavement. I want to pocket them, press them, rub them against my cheek, maybe stitch them into a quilt that will turn brown and brittle in days (okay, not a great idea). That is the crux of their loveliness, though, like snowflakes and fresh flowers they are utterly unperservable. The turning leaf is breathtakingly beautiful as it twirls down from it’s tree, as it lies in ruffled heaps amongst it’s yellowed counterparts. Enjoy us now, enjoy us now, they whisper as I walk through them.
on being back in the classroom
I easily settle into the quiet controlled environment of my studio work life. I adjust the volume on my stereo with a turn of my wrist, change the lighting with a flick of a switch, I’m tired of sewing, I change seats and work on an entirely different project. In the classroom things are far more volatile. Yesterday we printed the first round of silk screen designs. I came home with magenta and green paint in my hair, under my fingernails and somehow in one armpit. But inside that chaos is joy I cannot muster alone in my studio. Kids so thrilled with their screen printed robot or winged heart that they are forming future plans to make a living printing shirts.
respect the tool
Yesterday I started a six week teaching session with Junction City middle schoolers. We are doing silk screening which involves some precision cutting using exacto blades. I was amazed how the humming, chirping, squirming energy of the classroom immediately gave way to awed stillness as I handed out the sharp tools. We humans are tool users. When we apply ourselves completely to manipulating a tool we hone in, calm down, focus ourselves in a way we often can’t in the broader social world. I believe we tap into an ancient way of being human. So, once again, here’s to using tools.
still riding the wave
This is the place holder image on my blog but it perfectly illustrates my experience at this weekend’s sale! After months of solitary work in my studio it is such an exhilaration to meet and talk with people who admire my work. I need it! If I am an empty glass you are the water pitcher. Thanks for the compliments and purchases. They are what transforms and solidifies my art making into an actual career.