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Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Red Post

Summertime in the PNW. This day at the beach did not require a bathing suit, but rather, a hoodie and a hat - nothing like the summer-beach memories of Santa Barbara or even Santa Cruz. No, my beaches now hold an exquisite melancholy, full of beauty and the perfect setting for long contemplative thoughts. This day was grey and drizzly, low 60s, but I just kept finding warmth. The bright colors seemed to jump up from the sandy shore and I made for myself a nest of red to ward off the chill while I sat and watched the waters.

Saturday, August 18, 2007


This beautiful plate (a gift from my Dad) is by ceramic artist Ayumi. I am so in love with her work, and of course this plate in particular. It has not left my desk since its arrival because I love seeing it every time I sit down.

On a (seemingly) unrelated note: I have been working on a whole series of mixed media pieces that are small enough to travel between the studio and my home. They begin with silk screened images, then come home to be sewn and drawn on. As I sit here working on one of them, I realized just how influenced I am by the beautiful objects of inspiration that I keep close, with color in particular. Ayumi's choices have leaped off her plate and onto my paper, in the red pencils and blue thread. And I am thankful for the shared energy in our art.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

I Still Have a Long Way to Go

I have been thinking about the labyrinth a lot lately (and not the David Bowie movie, although I confess I have watched it and bring it up in discussion a bit too often). The labryinth is a visual reminder of the spiritual journey that we are taking, it is a tool for meditation and the practice of quieting the outter chaos in order to hear more clearly. In this, I still have a long way to go, but it is good.

Saturday, August 4, 2007

Birds who Chill

Just a little good mornin' peek.

Friday, August 3, 2007

Studio Days

I find such pleasure in little details. Brushes well used, with clean bristles but colored handles. Perfect little piles of paint, scraped into tidy lumps, each a distinctively different shade. Marks of paint on an otherwise white wall that speak of the history of my work. These things keep me company, encourage me, and entertain me in my studio. They are not inanimate, rather, they are my working companions.