The studio has never looked brighter (or greener.  I can not stop purchasing house plants.  Today I stopped by the nursery for a bag of cactus potting soil and came home with a rex begonia in shades of fiery pomegranate and a fern whose tag said only "Mother").  My head has absolutely been brimming with new ideas, bubbling over faster than I can even record them.  However it's a funny space (my head, not the studio that is); my imagination is at a full gallop with imagery in paint, on stone, on leather, on canvas but as soon as I try to reach out and grab just one of those thoughts, the vision dissolves like a mirage.  I can no longer see the piece as a whole, just tiny details.  Random bits.  My pencil seems blindfolded when I set it to paper.  The concepts are so strong in my mouth, but translation falters before my eyes.

Yesterday I wanted to call out to the heavens:
"It's a sticky place to be in, my darling muse.
Sweep away the curtains!  Let me on with my business!
Chop chop now, quit your heartless teasing and give me my sights!"
(except insert a few saucier words of your choosing)

I've pressed on, but it's been one of those weeks where entire days in the studio are lost to a slip of the leather shears, or [multiple] two hour drives working out the details of what our future looks like, or kitty boys who teach a neighbor cat a lesson, resulting hours spent at the veterinary clinic (my Thai!  My little bruiser has a shaved neck and a drain that requires cleaning every so many hours but he is a trooper like none other, demanding food sacrifices for his valiant behavior.  Also, for the record, the other cat leapt into our yard - our boys are never allowed free wandering!).

At the same time, there has been writing, photographing, tooling, painting, drawing and all manner of just looking.  But as of this very second, nothing I'm ready to show.

Sometimes the ideas come so easily I forget about the struggle.
Sometimes I don't trust the fast ideas and often, when ship sails smoothly along I miss the struggle.  The wrestling with unpracticed imagery, the discomfort of stretching into a new concept, the ache of potential failure.  It's like the burn in your calves when the hill is steep, the fire in your lungs when the trail stretches farther than you've ever run before.

It hurts.

I feel as through I'm acquiring creative stretch marks.

But I asked for that growth, and I went after it with gumption.  So here's to believing with every fiber of my being that the struggle reveals the answers, that the pruned branch bears the sweetest fruit.

Here's to the struggle.

Sketchbook Writings

~ From my Sketchbook Writings, Thursday January 20th 2011 ~

The Moon, like a pied piper, stole my heart away this morning, dancing and luring it through cerulean skies.  I stood on the stoop and shivered in the blue light, stamping my feet and blowing great clouds of heat through my lips.  There was no time for photoshoots, no time to arrange myself to watch the show, for directly east, the Sun was charging over mountaintops in a shameless flood of luminosity.  He chased La Luna like a jilted lover, warming her skies with toasted apricot hues, warming my cheeks to a rosy glow, warming the breath of the crows to puffs of pure white, like tiny steam engines in the grass.

She, however, only laughed and slipped westward over the sea.  Westward singing my heart over the waves.  Westward till only the frigate birds could spin in her reflected light.

I tried to drink it all in, tried to record those subtle shifts of color with absolute precision, tried to imprint my mind with the way the atmosphere vibrated when their lights clashed.  But like all moments of glory when the heavens open and mere mortals peek inside, I found myself dumbstruck with beauty.  Drunk and heady, stumbling forward with wide eyes.  I opened my mouth but only single notes and the scent of paperwhites came out.  

Now, I look at my hands and recall, ever so faintly, when the sky was the color of my fingertips.

UmberDove and the Return to the Interwebs

It's been a week of small details, quick footsteps, huge talks, grey drives, and overload of scrumptious fare and the future shaping itself into view.

I feel like there are plenty of points that I should cover, so in no particular order, here's what on my mind:

* * *

I love house guests.  I love the people I know, the ones who drive hours and hours to stay in your humble abode, the ones who love deeply on your beasties, the ones who are quite content to entertain themselves with journaling OR squander whole days eating, drinking, antiquing and trying on vintage coats.  If this sounds like you, then you should come over soon.  I've got crisp white sheets on the guest bed and a new jadeite mug for you to sip from.

* * *

I started Radiation Therapy last Monday, the start of a [near] daily affair between me and a giant laser beam for six weeks.  He (the laser) gets to see my lady-goods (with his super X-Ray vision), and I get to fall back asleep on a metal table and let the final "cancerous cell clean-up" do it's business.  On that note, things are looking good, real good.  There was a tiny scare, which lead to an even tinier biopsy, which challenged me greatly in light of my determination to Dwell in my own skin, but in the end, ALL came back negative.  Which, really, is positive.  

* * *

I've spent a great deal of time last week finishing up small projects and tying up loose ends.  I'm striving for that clean slate feeling, where Time looks shiny and bright before you, uncluttered with the to-dos of yesterday.  I have too many thought of "new" in my head, and I'm determined to wrap up that which came first.  Reading back, this seems like the most mysterious blurb ever, but I know exactly what I'm talking about, and I suppose this paragraph is more a commitment to myself than anything else.

* * *

One last thing:

Sancho would like you to throw for him.

Endlessly.

He's available for kissing parties.

Also Endlessly.

A Day in the Life of The Dove

[A photographic account of a single day in my life, images largely unedited, dust left right where it sits, moments of the day straightforward and simple]


~ Monday January 10th, 2011 ~

6:42 am

7:42 am

8:08 am

8:58 am

9:57 am

10:28 am

11:13 am

11:55 am

1:10 pm

1:26 pm

2:12 pm

2:29 pm

3:01 pm

3:25 pm

4:51 pm

5:14 pm

5:57 pm

7:38 pm

8:58 pm

11:28 pm

Why Yes, I do love you Leather

In the exact opposite spirit of how I generally function 'round these parts, I can not wait another second before sharing this with you.  I'm quite literally too excited to sit still enough to tell you all about this piece, my first foray into the world of leather tooling and the first step in a body of work I've been dreaming about for no less than a year.

But for this moment, I MUST just play show.

Tell will come later.

This cuff, a Totem Cameo Cuff with one of my favorite Californicus creatures, and I salut you!

Cheers to a New Year, Cheers to New Beginnings!
Fondly,
Umber and the Jackrabbit

Studio Peekery Sneakery

One.
My studio smells like Jesus, a leathery, cedary, balsamish Jesus.  It's spirituality by virtue of air quality.

Two.

I may or may not have purchased a jasmine today and whisked it into the house while BC was distracted with the puppy-face.  But honestly, if more plants indoors equals better feng shui, then is there really any reason to put a cap on the number of green growing things in a studio space?  I think not...

Three.

If you know where I torn this image from then 1) you probably also have fabulous taste and 2) know that when I die I hope my bedroom in heaven looks exactly like this one.

Four.
I've been swinging a hammer.
There's a new medium to explore and it's name is leather, supple, malleable, lusciously paintable leather. This piece, the very first in what I hope to be a long line, is not quite done but I'm so beside myself with excitement that I had to show you.  It's the type of obsessive excitement where other todo's drop off the face of the earth in favor of following the muse.  It's the type [disclaimer: OTHER ARTISTS.  DO NOT THROW ME UNDER THE BUS.  I KNOW YOU DO THIS TOO] of excitement where you squirm in your chair because you need to pee but just...  need...  to...  work for ten more seconds.  Which inevitable turns into 20 minutes. 

I'll show you as soon as it's done, which will be sooner than later as I can barely tear myself away.  It's a doozy this one.

That said, I'm popping on a mixed CD and hustling back to work.  Hope your evening is filled with pomegranate liquor and vegan cornbread, as mine surely is!
Sayonara minxes and minxettes!

The First Blog Post of 2011

whooooooooooooooooooooooosh!

Hello New Year!

(and goodbye 2010.  it's been... long.  too long to sum up between these two parenthesizes.)

But I can say this: I've missed you.  I feel a bit out of the loop, having spent the better part of the last two weeks completely offline and surrounded by people I love dearly and puppies who form a holy terror when they transform into the singular entity PuppyHerdBullMan (in a china shop).  The beautiful chaos of family made their way South on Sunday and for the first time in two weeks, BC and I slept alone in our house.

My family, I love you.

My Christmas, since I know you'd ask if we were sharing a perilously delicious Salted Dark Chocolate Cookie from Brio together (don't even ask.  I'm trying to NOT beg them for the recipe at the risk of outgrowing every single pair of pants I own), was simultaneously quiet and full of activity.  New Year's Eve passed in a flurry of boxes, packing tape and grilled cheese sandwiches as I helped my sister embark on the next adventure in her life which is tragically moving her six hours away from me.  

All of this to say, I think the new year actually started today.  Today I kept a date with myself for granola and a long session in the sketchbook.  Today marked the first day back in the studio in weeks.  Today I belted out Layla with Eric Clapton and swung a hammer (oooh yes... new work indeed!).  Today I felt full with energy and jaunty with hope for all that lies ahead.  Yesterday a friend said "Something about early January is the calendar equivalent of a fresh sketchbook" and I couldn't agree more.

I'm tumbling over and over my new motto for 2011, and it has a lot to do with intentionality.

I got plans baby, big ones, new ones.

So let's do this.