Grandpa’s Travels
Another shot from my grandpa’s travel photos. That’s him – third person from the left – smiling at the young boy. I think this was taken in Algeria – although Marianne suggested below it could be Pakistan or Afghanistan, and I bet she’s right – sometime in the early 60s. My grandpa traveled to all three countries, and this one might have gotten misplaced in the “Algeria” box.
I had just started pursuing my passion for travel right before he died, but I think he would be proud of me today if he knew how much I’ve explored the world. Maybe one day, somehow, we’ll be able to swap stories.
Five Things
3. Fellow June Squam-ette Rebecca Ringquist
4. Paper Mango
5. Vintage Bits & Pieces from Ethanollie on Etsy
Canoodling
I caught these two snails making out by the front of my house the other day, and it totally made my day.
Layers
I feel like my computer time is now having to be spent in stolen moments – late at night, in between this and that, after breakfast but before I head to the studio, after I come home but before dinner. And while I'm still not quite used to this – which means it is therefore not entirely comfortable – I already have a sense of how profoundly this studio experience could change my computer habits…not to mention a myriad of other details in my life.
Or maybe after my time in the studio is up I'll go right back to the way I operated before without so much as a blink – who's to say.
Regardless, this summer is a bit of an experiment in many ways. Actually – scratch that. It is entirely an experiment – in having a separate studio, in creating art, in new computer-related habits. I have already talked about creations coming out of me that I did not know were in me, but what I haven't talked about is how much this space is inspiring me to strip down to what is most bare and pure within my own self.
Right now much of the work I am doing involves tearing apart existing pieces that have been in my stash for too long. I am peeling away pictures, pulling apart layers and dismantling compositions that were carefully crafted not so long ago. And some of those bits and pieces are finding their way into new pieces. In other words, I am taking apart and re-building. I am cutting away layer upon layer until I get to the bare wood panel that has been supporting it all, and in this process I can't help but think about all the layers of noise that have gotten in the way of my ability to truly take what I am given.
I know I will continue to write about this as the summer progresses. I am wary of turning this into some big moment of drama – "The studio changed my life!" – but there are things being stirred about, and I can't ignore the feelings of release that seem to expand in new directions everyday.
“You leave old habits behind by starting out with the thought, 'I release the need for this in my life'.” ~Wayne Dyer
“Look at Me!”
I added a little privacy bar to keep it G-rated over here, but this is a photo from a trip my grandpa took to Paris in the early 60s. The book she is holding says “Property of Man.”
But what I love – what I love – about this image is the woman in the background.
“I know I’m not topless, but look at me!”
(I started to feel a little funny about posting a photo of a topless woman taken by my grandpa, worried someone might think he was up to no good, but would you look at this photo? Does this look seedy and degrading or does it just look like a friendly couple of gals parading onstage, one of whom happens to be bra-less? I mean really, I want to invite these women over for tea and cupcakes.)
Space
"Despite all outside, best hopes, the one in pursuit of a passion has always been armored against all advice, good or bad. Strangely, this self-determined wish to create one's own world, real or not, seems to be absolutely necessary." ~ David Whyte, The Three Marriages
Summer Updates
Most of my days are now spent sequestered in the studio, but I still have some updates to share…
* New goodies from Demdaco are finally making their way on my Etsy shelves. I've listed all the new Wall Art and Hardcover Journals. Still to come: Bookmarks & Canvas Wall Hangings.
* Three new sets of clear stamps are also available over at Crescendoh. I've been creating little goodies with them and they are super fun!
* I'm teaching a wee e-course next Tuesday, June 22nd over at the Wish Studio. Click here to learn more about Today: Begin. The two-hour workshop will officially run from 2:00 – 4:00pm on the 22nd, but will be available online through the 28th.
* There will be a group show in my studio in Venice, California Saturday, July 17th from 6:00 – 11:00pm. The show will benefit the One World Health Organization, and there will be food, wine, a DJ and beautiful art, including the latest creations from yours truly. Details will be posted right here as the date draws near.
* Our Book in a Day class at the recent session of Squam Art Workshops was a big hit, and there are still space left in the Fall session. Head here to learn more about it.
* I am also thrilled beyond belief to be working with the divine Christine Castro of Darling Design to create a brand spanking new website. We still have a ways to go, but I'm already giddy about where it's headed.
Summer is off to a great start!
100 Books Project :: Cincinnati
[Book #54, left in Cincinnati, Ohio by Book Fairy Julie Keefe.]
Oh, these stories just get better and better – and therefore get me weepier and weepier.
Magic. Pure magic.
That's all I've got to say about this one. Julie says it all right here on her blog.
Go read it. Keep tissues handy.
About To
This was a photo I found in a stack of old pictures that belong to my husband. I don’t know who or where they are, but I find this image so captivating. I see possibility, innocence, beauty and wonder. As if perhaps they are mermaids to be, about to slip into an entirely different life.
And as teenagers – which most of them look to be – they most certainly were.
Day Winding Down
[Bare bulb in an abandoned glass factory in Amman, Jordan. Taken earlier this year.]
Every once in a while, as my usual time for bed approaches, I feel a strange anxiety over saying good-bye to the day. Anxiety isn't even the right word; it is some form of resistance, of grasping, and I can never really explain why the feeling arises when it does. Take right now for example. It is about 9:40pm. Normally I'd be tucked in by now, ready to drift off and likely to fall into a deep slumber much quicker than I believe is possible when I first feel my head sink into my pillow. But as I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed this evening, I knew I wasn't ready to say good-bye to this day; I knew I'd be down here on my couch trying to pull one last sliver of time out of this day.
Why this day? No particular reason. Maybe it is because I'm having a hard time putting down the book I am reading – The Three Marriages by David Whyte. Maybe it is because my husband and I are still opening up tiny visual treasures from our past in the form of 35mm slides and 8mm film transferred to digital files we can view on our computer. Maybe it is both of these reasons and more that I can't quite put my finger on. Either way, it is as if a current flooded through me and pulled me away from my bed without my having much of a say about it. On these nights, I have no choice but to let those tides take me where they may and keep me awake for at least a little while longer.
I already know that by the end of the summer anyone reading this blog will, at some point, think to themselves, "Stop talking about the studio, we've heard enough already." I have only been in there two weeks and I can already tell I'm probably going to get sick of hearing my own voice go on and on about it. But sometimes experiences and developments catch me unaware and re-direct my attention like a glaring spotlight with such immediacy that, for a while, it is hard to think or talk of anything else. In this case, the light has been thrown towards a corner of my self that I did not realize I had sort of forgotten, a part of myself that I thought I would have had a pretty good handle on by now.
It is that part of me that is an artist.
I already wrote this, and I don't want to repeat myself here, but what I must share now is that this time I have with the studio isn't just about getting in there and painting. It is about losing my way, and embracing an artistic journey that, for the first time in a woefully long time, is being created as I take it, with no idea of what the final destination is. And I read something tonight that helped me understand why it is so important I resist with every cell in my body any urge to try to steer my current course in any particular direction:
"If you think you know where you are, you stop looking." ~David Whyte
Each time I open the door to the studio, I don't know where I am or where I'm going. Each creation is less an exercise in trying to make real an already composed vision and more a lesson in letting the piece show me what it wants to be. I don't feel like I am building something up as much as I am pulling something out, bringing something forth into the world that can only emerge if I relinquish all control. I have two finished pieces already, and I look at them with a strange sense of awe. I did not know this is what they would end up looking like, but somehow I knew when they were complete. This is what I aim to do with every piece I create, and it is mind-bogglingly thrilling to fully embrace this sense of mystery that exists with each new creation.
David Whyte wrote something else in the chapter I finished this evening:
"Remembering what we have forgotten is a first practical step home…"
My work as an artist – the act of doing the work to create art – somehow got lost in my life, but the minute I set foot in the studio, I experienced a simultaneous understanding of both how far away I'd drifted and how close I still was. All it took was a recognition that I was lost, and in that instant, I came back home.
