Step One

A good friend sent me this artistic lifeline in response to my sulking. "The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts." Marcus Aurelius Go on, repeat it three or four times. Have you ever been riding a good horse who suddenly shifted up into a canter without your inept urging as if to say "This is how it's done." Even the rhythm is thrilling.

blog vacation

Continuing the break here until my Eyes, My Hands and my Art Heart remember how to get along together again. No point in throwing good raw materials in the crapper. For the moment picture three willful children standing in the corner pouting, unrepentant and perfectly willing to eat worms until they all get their way.

Moon Chasing.

When I left the office last night I realized that I have been spending too much time looking down. Putting one foot in front of the other and just barely getting there.

I need to go someplace (else) and stare into a brook or up into some trees for a while and see what else is putting one foot in front of the other trying to get by.

There was a great big leopard frog sitting on the doorstep of the office the other evening. He was working the bugs that were flocking to the lamp post. He gave me a disgusted look and scooted away when I stepped outside. Smart and handsome fellow he was. Of course my camera was at home. These are pictures taken in traffic. I really was watching the road.

Market Day

I've spent the morning photographing and posting another half dozen of my recent hand dyes to Random Acts of Dyeness. Now all I have to do is keep my hands off them for a while, you know, give other folks a chance.

old paths, new stones

My moods revolve, never swoop, between swashbuckling exuberance and a 1000-yard stare at the state of all things. For the moment, I'm staring and savoring. Jim has gone back to work full time so no more of that coddling the artist nonsense - I will be shopping, cooking and cleaning with the rest of the working world and doing it with a joyful heart but spooked that I won't ever do it as well as he did. And now I've stumbled on yet another way of making a statement with fabric and color. In this instance, that statement is more of a hissed intimation or mumbled prayer. These are stains that fell out as a byproduct of my Sharpie & alcohol experiments. Fey and fierce at the same time, I'm giving them a new context on a new summer fling. I'll be traveling soon and want to have a heady hand project to take along. This will more than fit the bill.