Flourish

This collage was one of the largest I've made - 18"x18" but it took less time to make than a lot of smaller collages.  I used a combination of recycled papers (mostly shopping bags & magazines), a few expensive papers that show layers when ripped (my favorites to find in craft recycling stores), and some wallpaper samples.  I loved every minute making this.  It gave me zero grief, and it was tough to walk away from it.  The siren call was real.   

My progress pictures show just how difficult it was to walk away from it.  It grew like wildfire in just a week or so.

Mirror

For a couple months last fall I stopped writing reviews.  Comprehensible word making went down the toilet so to speak, and reviews were among the joys I shelved during that time period.

So far this year I'm back in the habit of writing reviews for all four and five star books I read (and absurdly proud of this).  I don't have any reason for not sharing the reviews here, and I feel like this review is really the perfect place to start:

I'm not sure I needed to know this much about Norman Rockwell, but sometimes there's treasure in an information dump.

I've never appreciated a smattering of pictures in a book as much as I did with this one. So much text! I didn't know anything about Norman Rockwell prior to reading this, and after reading this, I'm not sure I really like him. Did he ever let anyone in? This feels very much like a cobblestone street, each rock a voice, all coming together to paint an image of one person.

What I really enjoyed were the stories about the paintings I've seen all my life - what went into making them, who the models were (often the same person for several paintings in a row), the errors (who knew there were any errors at all?). I was shocked to discover Rockwell wanted to be more than what he was. You think if you were Norman Rockwell that would be enough. I was also surprised to read that he always needed the objects he painted in front of him. "He went cold when he tried to draw an image from his head, as he said. He was afraid of what might come out if he allowed himself to fall prey to his imaginings."

I appreciated reading about all the artistic rituals, his obsessions, and the ins and outs of his studios.

It was long, but it was worth my time.

Favorite moments:

"He usually started his day by drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola, which helped him wake up, and mulling over the painting in progress on his easel. He would try to figure out which part of it didn't work and he always found something. This provided him with an entry point back into the painting and opened up a space of concentration into which he could disappear for hours."

When I read this, I was completely overcome with this weirdly profound since of solidarity. Here I am over a hundred years later doing the same thing but with a completely different medium and technology at my disposal. Whenever I get to a stopping point with what I'm working on I take a picture. Any down time I have after that I stare at the picture and find my entry points for the next time.

Another line I felt deeply was when the author was writing about Rockwell returning immediately to work instead of honeymooning with his wife (number two I believe). "Already she [the wife] must have known that artists are high matrimonial risks who save the best part of themselves for their art."

Unlike Rockwell, I caught a lucky break with my husband, because he loves his work as much as I love mine.

I also related to how Rockwell felt about books: "It had always been his habit to thumb through art books during the day, leaving two or three propped open on the floor, near his easel. It was one reliably positive thing he could do when he felt depleted and devoid of ideas."

Yep, sometimes books are what picks us back up again. That's why they must always be nearby!

July

July was bananas, so I was unable to post.  I wrapped up another semester (only one left).  We did lots of things at work: wrapping up the remodel, starting up social media, country club trophy season etc.  Some extra time went into my mysterious gut disorder (maybe less mysterious soon).  Lots of art, writing, tennis.  The usual.

Here are a few special moments:

A few years ago we had regular barred owl visitors.  Almost every time we looked out the window or walked outside we saw them.  Then they disappeared.  But maybe they are back.  Robert Facetimed me one morning on his way to work and told me to come outside.  

An owl on the ground!

But the owl very quickly flew to a tree when I came out.  My excitement (even the silent kind) is too much.

Margo has been working hard at the shop.  She's recently been learning all about social media and has been a good sport about it.

She now knows a little about trophies too.  You need an award?  She'll help you pick something!

Occasionally Josie visits, and we have an honoree shop dog.

They both work hard at their jobs, so there has been even more flopping than usual at home.

Heck, even a recent visit to a splash pad tuckered them out.

Life is good.

Making Centers

Mostly chaos here.  Murky, hopeful, good, overpowering, ripe.  All kinds.  Sometimes a center of calm too, but only enough to build a brief cocoon.  

I've been living in my art and work some days, and I'm good with this for the moment.  

I made two companion embroidery pieces, but when I was finished, I no longer liked them enough to put them out into the world.  The colors worked together sometimes but clashed other times.  It was too much chaos. 

The page above is from Make Meatballs Sing, which is about Corita Kent.  

Right now it's good enough to just Make.  And maybe treat the process of Make as a cocoon.

the focus became the light

Two embroidery pieces I made recently:

A teeny 5" zen rainbow piece where the focus became the light no matter the weight of the blue.  Sometimes even our own creations can surprise us with their meaning.

Each time I sat with this piece, any anxiety I was feeling disappeared almost immediately.

Mrs. Potts, the third eye chakra, & Brad Paisley

I have always appreciated how well I can remember my dreams, even some of the not-so-great dreams.  Wading through the contents of a dream is like holding up a mirror to my subconscious self.  Sometimes it's the best way to know if I'm still chewing on something, my mind is trying to comfort me, or there's an answer to something I've been mulling over for a while.  Robert, on the other hand, rarely remembers his dreams.  I didn't really think about it one way or the other until Robert.  Now that I know some people just don't remember their dreams, I definitely thank every single dream for sticking around long enough for me to mull it over when I wake up.

I often see the same people and things in my dreams.  I am a grown-ass adult who has lived in a few different places, but a surprising number of my dreams still take place in my grandma and grandpa's house.  I'm living my adult life, but their house just happens to still be my house.  Or I dream I am younger and it's my house.  People who are long gone are often alive, and there's absolutely no moment where my sleep self thinks, you silly goose, those people are dead.  I've often wondered if the yearning to have them back is so strong I've somehow made them a permanent part of my life through dreams.  

There are a lot of recurring things in my dreams too.  Pretty much all of the carpet in my grandma's house is the flooring for that house, my adult house (when it decides to be a part of my dreams), and any place I'm living in my dreams (thankfully red shag carpet goes with everything).  No matter the place I dream, my grandma's house still finds a way to sneak in with its carpeting, placemats, linoleum, kitchen utensils etc.

There are a few other constants in my dreams too.  One of those constants is a teapot who has a face but never says anything.  It just sits there with its face that almost blends into the blue of its pot, the only movement an occasional blink of its third eye.  I totally blame Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast for this.  Though they are both living teapots, that's where the similarity ends.

My teapot is always blue, quietly listening, and sometimes growing flowers from the top or with a handle that's a flower.  As creepy as it sounds, I don't feel any ominous vibes from the teapot.  But the teapot's presence is so loud.  I can feel the teapot nearby no matter what's going on in the dream.  Start a load of laundry, get the teapot feeling, and yep there it is.  In the car, listening to music with my brother, Scott, feel the teapot nearby, and there it is.  Making sandwiches with my deceased grandmother, get the teapot feeling, and sure enough it's there.

I have tried sketching the teapot a few times right when I wake up to capture its changes and try to make sense of it.  No such luck.

I have no idea what the gender of the teapot is or if that's of any importance.  I haven't been able to decipher the meaning of the teapot.  The only thing I know for sure is that it has something to do with the third eye chakra.

I waffled about the teapot's lid, since it does change in the dreams.  After several changes, I finally decided to lean into the third eye chakra.  Thankfully, I had just the tea boxes for the job.  I dipped into my jar of quote tea tags for the background to represent all the unspoken wisdom from this teapot.  Little did I know that by doing so, I would never get a decent picture with everything in focus.  It's a perfectionist's nightmare.

For the sides of this piece, I used what Robert calls my "doily paper," which seems appropriate for tea.  The doily paper is the only paper that didn't come from tea packaging. 

If you look really closely, you might be able to spot Brad Paisley.  When I finished this piece I asked Robert, "what do Mrs. Potts, the third eye chakra, and Brad Paisley all have in common?"

Imagine if I used those three tags in Etsy and there's someone out there who types in all three LOL.

opossum

When we were in Springfield, MO in May Robert and I stopped at Bass Pro Shops and of course we buy the thing that everyone buys when they go to Bass Pro Shops.

A opossum.  Not just any opossum, but a squeaky one for the dogs.

Since then Josie has claimed the opossum for herself and it's 100% her baby.  Just about any time I see her asleep somewhere, the opossum is with her.  Not always in plain view.  Sometimes I have to root around until I find it, but it's there.

Hwy 5

Robert and I took a much-needed week off to drive highway 5 from Hot Springs, AR to Des Moines, IA.  Highway 5 is special to me, because it was one of the main roads we drove during my childhood.  In fact, it's one of two ways to leave Greenview, MO, which is the part of Lake of the Ozarks I grew up in.  We learned that Greenview is not listed as a town, even though the sign is still there letting you know you're there.  At some point since my childhood it ceased to exist.  Or maybe it never existed as a town, and the two hundred or so full-time folks living in Greenview found a way to get one of those official signs.  

At some point several years ago Robert and I started talking about highway five, and the next thing you know, we traced exactly where it went.  There are many jogs, winding roads, old bridges, old sections, new sections, and we did our best to weave our way through all of it.  There were several times we could see the ghost of old highway five when we were on a new stretch, and we would jump off and explore when possible.  The coolest thing we saw was an old bridge in Arkansas on an old section of highway 5 and then, when we were just inside IA, we saw that same bridge.  Same exact design!  I didn't take pictures, because it was too difficult to really capture the old bridges while driving the new sections.  But what a full circle!

This was our first trip where we created pins and layers.  Our first layer was the highway itself and the subsequent layering included all the stops we wanted to make in or near the highway.  It was a lot of fun to work on the map together over the past couple months, and we'll probably use this method again when traveling.  We've got our eyes on U.S. Route 50 as the next road to tackle, and it will likely take a couple trips to cover it all.

Here is a picture of our Hwy 5 map:

Other pictures from our trip:

One thing I will say about Little Rock, AR and AR in general is that the people we encountered were particularly friendly and warm.

I stopped at Argenta Bead and the gal there paused what she was doing when she heard I was from KC to text a friend there who knew of a place that sold beads but wasn't necessarily a bead store.  

I also found stamps at this bead store, which was a first.  I've been buying stamps here and there for a future project, and this bead store had both bug stamps and one bat stamp.  

Robert and I just finished Salvage Kings, which is magnificent if you haven't watched it.  It's about people who go in and clean out old buildings before razing them.  There is so much to our history that can be explained with what we leave behind/throw away/destroy, things that sometimes we don't even know are worth saving.  Like these old newspaper vending machines that we saw in Little Rock, AR.

In a random bathroom somewhere around Mountain View, AR I stumbled across a velvet painting of Elvis.  It is the first time I've seen another velvet painting since Mitsy (at least one I recognize as definitely velvet).  For those who don't know the story behind Mitsy, check it out here.  Here was Mitsy's brother (who just happens to be Elvis) in some tiny bathroom in AR!  The blue of the microphone is so similar to the blue of Mitsy's waves.  The brushstrokes are also similar.  I'll never forget what Mitsy's restorer said.  She said that Mitsy will inevitably rot away someday, maybe not in my lifetime, but that's why you shouldn't paint on velvet.  Every time I look at Mitsy I think to myself, she's rotting away at this very moment.  So here is her brother, Elvis, also rotting away, only he's in some dreary ho-hum AR bathroom.

We stopped at a few libraries during our journey.  One library in AR refused to sell me a blank library card.  This is the first time it's ever happened!  While I was unable to get a library card from that particular library, I did see something that absolutely delighted me.  Their BSC books were the 80s editions, the very editions I read when I was young.

The best library we visited had something we've never seen in a library before.  An aviary!  It was donated by the Jaarsma's and houses a variety of birds.  Robert did his usual quick walk through of the library and settled into the quietest room.  I texted him and asked if he saw the birds.  I think he thought I was talking about a display.  I looked up the library afterwards and listed in the volunteer duties is aviary maintenance.  That has to be one of the most obscure library volunteer jobs ever, right?

Though it was well off highway 5, Robert and I decided to drive into Springfield because we were driving through on a day when Arrow Creative Reuse was open.  Craft recycling stores are at the top of my travel list.  This one is looking for a new home where they can have both their workshop and store spaces in one spot.  I sincerely hope they can continue on.  I found a bunch of exciting things and also chatted with the gal working there, who is a crankie artist!  I didn't even know such an art form existed, so she regaled me with everything that went into being a crankie artist.  

Here's my haul:

We loved the heck out of Des Moines, IA, which is where we spent the last few days of our trip.  We spent a day in Pella, which is where we saw the library with the aviary.  We also went up to Boone to tour the museum and try out the rail explorers, which is an experience where you can ride a pedal cart along a railroad.  We arrived at the museum to discover it was closed.  Thankfully a volunteer saw us and gave us a private tour.  Robert said it was the second coolest train museum he's seen after the Union Pacific Railroad Museum in Council Bluffs, IA.  We were so thrilled the volunteer was there and happy to give us a tour.  While we waited for our rail explorers reservation I stopped in a bookstore, which had two shop cats, Einstein and Emerson.  

I absolutely would love a kitty basket for my convenience!   

Sadly, our rail explorers reservation was cancelled due to rain.  But that just means we're definitely coming back!

It was just about the most relaxing trip a person can take.  Each morning I stayed in bed reading as long as I liked.  We went swimming almost every day, and one day twice because the pool opened at 5AM.  We met interesting people, explored all the places the interstate swoops past, and absorbed the long stretches of quiet.  We even had a few good meals.  I stocked up on my overnight oats thinking hwy 5 probably wasn't a place for anyone avoiding dairy.  And though I was right sometimes, there were a few places we loved.  The Root Cafe in Little Rock, AR is at the top of the list.  Though Italian is typically a no-go for me, the bruschetta at Bambinos in Springfield, MO is one of the best things we'll ever have the opportunity to eat in our lives.  It's magical.  The fact that even Robert enjoys it, and he normally can't stand cold/raw tomatoes says everything.  Also, Goldie's Bagels in Columbia, MO is comparable to our KC bagel shop, Meshuggah.  And unlike Meshuggah they've got bottomless coffee and oat milk.  

I think we're ready to dive back into work and school and anything thing else life throws at us (within reason).  But I know I'm already thinking about the next road trip, ready to begin the planning, which is almost as exciting as the trip itself.     

special people

My second art fair was a lot of fun.  We had the tiniest bit of wacky weather, but mostly it was blazing hot with zero shade.  Our biggest takeaway was that I needed a sun umbrella for my chair.  

The best thing about the Mulvane art fair was our booth neighbor, Andrew Batcheller, an artist from Joplin, MO.  I'll unabashedly talk him up here.  His work is instantly stunning, and if it isn't enough that it immediately captures your attention, it's the kind of art that also sneaks its way in.  I'm one of the lucky and sometimes unlucky people who remember my dreams.  I wasn't surprised at all that Andrew's artwork snuck its way into my dreams.  He was also incredibly kind, funny, and personable.  It was really special connecting with him during our weekend together.

After packing up everything from the art fair we spent a lovely evening with a poet friend of mine, Carolyn.  Here is one of her poems.  She gave us a tour of her remarkable home and garden, and we were stunned by the beauty, love, and attention she gave to everything she touched.  Walking her vast garden was comparable to a stroll through a botanical garden.  Her garden was even featured in Better Homes & Gardens once upon a time, and she is a national flower arrangement champion.  I know her through her poetry, and even though it is transportive, it only touches upon all the pieces that comprise her as a person.  It was such an honor to spend time with her and get to know her better.  

A Squiggle of Hedge Apples

Every fall the hedge apples visit like some kind of vibrant, squiggly, smelly aliens, and I'm always so overjoyed by their presence.  I feel such kinship with these sticky balls of fluorescence.

If hedge apples had a group name, it would be a squiggle.  Storm drains are the perfect place to find a squiggle of hedge apples.  Grass, fall leaves, and other foliage can easily hide hedge apples, but storm drains are a perfect backdrop for them.  

Last fall I could no longer resist the temptation of the chartreuse calling to me from one of our many storm drains where I live.  So I sat with them.

I took a lot of pictures.  I looked at all the shadows of each picture and noticed that there was a world of colors living just inside the shadows, and that the shadows were everywhere.  

It took me a while to figure out a hedge apple method that clicked with me.  I initially laid out the tiny pieces with no color underneath, and it just didn't work, so I added a layer of paper underneath the tiny pieces.  I divided up the hedge apple colors into three categories of light, medium, and dark, and those shadows stayed consistent throughout the four pieces.  The background leaf litter shadows changed with each collage.  As for the leaf litter colors, I went effing wild with them.  Every tree that ever existed lives above that storm drain (at least in my imagination).  I've never had so many different paper tubs out all out at once!

I settled on four different collages and spent a lot of time precutting the hedge apple slivers.  Each time I worked with the hedge apples I started the journey by cutting more slivers.  By the fourth piece I was so over it!  Naturally, the fourth one is my favorite, mostly because I saved the cranberry shadows for the last one.  If it weren't for the excitement of cranberry shadows, I would have heaved the last one in the timeout pile with exceptional force.

About a week after finishing all the hedge apples, I found myself looking at a 24X24" blank wooden canvas I had on hand, and I could already see the giant hedge apples taking shape in the wood grain.  So who knows.  This may not be the last of the hedge apples.