It took her seven days of mulling and musing before she finally returned to that hole in the ground. The eager grass had already grown tall around the edges of the opening. Rabbit squatted down and parted the vivid green drapery. The hole was empty. Rabbit felt that unpleasant and all to familiar surge of disappointment in herself. Why hadn’t she acted faster? How could she have forgotten about them in the first place? Her scolding was interrupted by raucous laughter, and rabbit looked up to see crow in the branches of the big cedar tree. Crow was always taking things from rabbit. In fact, from rabbit’s current vantage point, she could see her metal pie pan, her sewing scissors, and what was likely her copy of an indigo girls CD, all hanging in the branches of the massive cedar. Rabbit could also see the round pink shells of several eggs peeking from the lip of crow’s nest.
Rabbit kept dreaming...
...about the hole and what it contained...
rabbit
Rabbit fixed her self a fancy drink, scraped the moss from the seat of her adirondack chair, located a spot in the warm spring sun, and sat down to think. She thought about those eggs waiting quietly in the black earth. She sat and wondered, worried, and pondered about what each of those odd little eggs might contain...
treasure
While mowing the knee high grass in her back yard (I know I thought she was a he yesterday. I was mistaken.) she came upon a surprisingly large hole in the earth. The hole was a nest of sorts and inside was a collection of odd, rather lumpy looking eggs. Against her better judgement she reached down and tentatively touched one. She immediately recognized the eggs as her own, somehow left untended and long forgotten. She knelt in the wet green, buckled by the wash of sadness and relief. It explained that small, sharp, longing she’d harbored in her heart for some time now.
well hello there!
I don’t take time to draw as often as I’d like to. Mostly my pen meets paper to sketch out some rough approximation of of a form I want to render in cloth. Those drawings are detail-less, hurried, and unrefined.
I recently took time to look through one of my 12 year old’s densely filled sketch books. She draws for 2-3 hour stretches on a daily basis. I’m amazed at her skill. Hands look graceful. Noses, ears, hairlines, and muscles appear in the right places. Her constant practice has forged a beautiful strong neural path from hand to eye.
My daughter’s drawings gave me the itch. I broke out the pen and paper, talked my hand into slowing down a bit, and filled several pages with shaky drawings. I feel pretty happy about this little dude. His feet are slightly misshapen, and his fingers are massive, but he is curious and he seems trustworthy. I’m thinking of taking him places.
another fantasy
I’ve decided to take the train up to Portland for this evening’s art opening. The drive is far faster, just me, the radio, and the road, but I dread I5 in the wet darkness. Plus, public transportation is inevitably a treasure trove (or land mined field) of unexpected experiences. Who knows, perhaps on the train or on one of the Portland TriMet buses I board today I’ll encounter a wealthy eccentric. I’ll choose a seat next to her because I like her curiously color coordinated outfit. We talk. She likes poodles and rainstorms. I also learn that she specifies a color for each day of the week. Blue for tuesdays, brown for wednesdays, orange for thursdays... Not only does she wear the color of the day, she only eats foods to match that day. I give her my satsuma in a gesture of solidarity. Later she tracks me down at the gallery and commissions a massive work of art, an exploration in color. I say YES! It could happen. By riding the train I am opening the door to many possibilities.
Appaloosa?
This is an in-process shot of one of the texture pieces I’ve been working on for my upcoming show.
I came across a photo of an Appaloosa horse in a recent National Geographic issue, and was drawn to the horse’s fading spot markings. I’m not sure I completely captured the essence of horse flank here. My version kind of brings to mind something cellular, or maybe great white giraffe.
What I really like about this work is how I am reminded of nature’s comfort with repeating shapes and patterns. From aerial views of lake spotted terrain to close ups of things growing in petri dishes, Nature brings it with the spots. I am ceaselessly drawn to this pattern, and comforted with the recognition that I may get away with stitching it into my work over and over again.