time traveler

i've been neglecting my blog lately.  maybe it's because i've already said all there is to say, written what i needed to write.  maybe i've gotten something out of my system.  maybe i've grown tired of looking at the computer screen, and can barely muster the desire to sit my butt down in a chair on a long summer day.  maybe i'm too darn busy now that summer is in full swing and there is so much to do that i can barely squeeze it in.  maybe it's all of that.  or maybe i'm just darn tired of doing one painting a day, one painting a day, one painting a day, on and on like a skipping LP.  

honestly, now that i'm a measly twenty seven days away from my landmark of one year on this project, i feel a bit like a kid trapped in elementary school the week before summer break: restless as hell, looking longingly out that window at the beckoning green grass field.  don't get me wrong, i love my watercolors.  i love how people love them.  they have become me, and i have become them.  i've learned a ton, and made tons of absolute breakthroughs with my work and my self.  but enough is enough.  i have ideas a'brewing, the kinds of ideas that will take me more than just one day. 

like this piece, for instance.  it took me three days, altogether, in bits and pieces.  art-making is an evolution of ideas, with a few successes and a few failures every time.  it takes time, and can't be rushed, or squeezed into a box.  at it's best, it's not so formulaic, but born of discovery, tending to lead down a windy road full of surprises and revelations.  to an artist, every piece is never finished, an incomplete picture, a fragment of the greater puzzle that will one day become your "life's work".  as the saying goes, rome was not built in one day.  so here's to future accomplishments.

backcountry

a day of drawing.....in process.

escape

four days all wrapped into two pieces of paper

 the cabin is a safe place to go.  there, the sounds of the forest overwhelm your ears.  the wind on the emerald green water laps at the silvery wooden edges of the dock.  a bloom of mayflies lands on the water only to be slurped by trout hiding in the shadows.  the mayflies land innocently on your arms and legs, while the tiniest spider traces the lines in your hand.  you don't mind, you let them be, they don't bite, they just tickle like the wind as you lay bare skinned to sun the surfaces that haven't seen sun for years and years.  you lay bare skinned because you know there isn't another human for miles upon miles, save the lone flying airplane, too far up to look down and see, or even care.  a snake swims by, a hummingbird buzzes, a pair of osprey circle.  at dusk, the handsome herd of elk whistle and chew the tender edges of greenery.  you're quiet, quieter on the inside than you've been in a long time.  and although it takes forever to unwind after a day of driving, once you're there, at that little cabin in the woods, it is a tonic, a calm after a storm, a new drug for all ailments. and you never want leave.  you never want to go back to civilization.

community

what's great about independance day?  not much, i used to think.  just a bunch of pollution, loud noises and gratuitous money wasting and debauchery.  but after living in edison a couple years, i've changed my tune.  the fourth of july has become a spiritual experience.

last night, for instance.  at rodney's party, the daffodils played a set to a diverse crowd.  everyone was represented:  there were good old boys, hillbillies, rednecks, couch potatoes, hippies, hipsters, rock-and-rollers, butt-rockers, artists, mamas and papas, oldies, outdoorsies, athletes, grown-ups, kids, grown-ups posing as kids and vice versa.  yup, there was one of everything. the party-goers were just as diverse as the potluck table's offerings, which were a'plenty.  

which is precisely what i like about valley parties.  out here, we're not fronting, pretending like we don't see each other, like we aren't neighbors.  we are neighbors, and we have no choice but to coexist, to eat together, to live artfully, to share space.  out here we are anything but homogenous.  the one thing we do all have in common is the land.  we live here because we love the land, that fertile productive land, not to mention the ocean air, the big big sky, the softly lulling waves, and the view of those majestic mountains peeking over the hills.  yes, i think it's safe to say, the land unifies us, brings us together in rare and magical ways.  so sitting on a beached dock last night as the sun set across the water, soaking it all in with a collection of my favorite people, chatting drinking whiskey and passing a smoke around while the swimming kids coated themselves in seagrass, i wouldn't have traded my spot there with those people on that rocky beach for a million nights on the town.  and tonight, after watching several delightfully creative and constructed pyrotechnic exploits, and while lighting my paper lantern in the dark open field and watching it float away until it disappeared, i cried a little.  because i am so fortunate.

this independence day, i celebrate my inter-dependance.

beggars can't be...choosers

similarities

colorful.   flexible.  stretchy.  chaotic.  cyclical.  full-circled.  well-rounded.  light.  strong.  functional.  useful.  for closure.  to keep from spilling.  for openness.  resilient.  elastic.  an innate ability to bounce back. 

all qualities of a good life.  my life.  and this pile of rubber bands.

footloose

one for today

one for yesterday

i love the night life.  i really do.  the lights, the loud music, the energy.... i would consider myself nocturnal. or at least i used to be. i couldn't get enough of the city streets at night, veins coursing with light.  but nowadays, i live where the sidewalk ends.  i don't stay up much past eleven.  have i outgrown that night life a little?  or has it outgrown me?  i don't know, but either way, we don't see each other all that often.  maybe it's because i live in a distant land, at least a half hour drive in any direction to twenty-something bars full of uninhibited drunk dancers. it makes "going out" a bit more of a laborious endeavor. and so it keeps me home, reading books and nerding out to art docs.

every now and again, just so i don't feel all stuffy old and boring, i have to get my feet wet in the wild and crazy scene to feel balanced.  like last night, for instance.  pink sparkling wine with the ladies, that followed by pabst and a lemon (just to keep it classy), definitely one too many, lots of girl talk and greasy bar fodder, wearing the absolute wrong shoes for dancing, the wrong shoes for walking miles and miles across town, but doing it anyways...it was exhilarating,  just like the old days, my twenties....until the buzz wore off and i had to get my ass home.  at that point, there's just something weird about staying up so late that you watch the sky start to lighten, hear the birds, one and then two of them, wake up before you've even had a chance to shut your eyes.  

so i made it home, got a few hours of sleep.  and then today, well that was mostly a fog.  i felt real out-of-sorts, in a comfortable, dazed way.  but wholly unproductive.  and that's probably why i'm not the party girl i used to be:  for a self-made lady with a lot of responsibilities, it sucks to lose a day.  there's always too much shit to do to cut loose completely.