cold mornings

shine a light on it.

Illustration Friday sends me little blog posts about once a week. This sweet one came early in the morning when I read the newspaper in bed in the dark from a backlit screen and our puppy curled in the center of my back. Must not forget to mention my husband's cold big foot dropped across my ankle. Good cuddly times. However, this blog post discussed selecting a creative career

I have been doodling and drawing for decades. It wasn't until recently that I embarked on doing it professionally. When I went back into my youthful days and analyzed what I loved most about a creative life one thing came up: art supplies. Today I focus on pen/ink, watercolor washes, and charcoal (because I love to etch and smear with my fingers). These are the avenues with which I work, as photography--a first love--hit a stagnant stride. Photography is the study of light, not a device to record all the places you've been. I remember reading an interview with Taryn Simon in conjunction with her exhibit at the Tate Modern (London). She said she never photographs or carries a camera...only when she's working on an exhibit piece. Life as lived, rather than captured. Capturing life with a pen takes on a whole new speed of slow. Meditative. Three hours zip by without even's to getting lost inside a good period of your life.

More out takes from a creative, simple as follows: Drawing model. Floor as my palette. off charcoal all over my wrists and hands and nose in public washroom. Drawing model (yup, different pose).

Sketch of Life, 2

The 48-hour brine is in effect. Morning in the kitchen, finalizing the Thanksgiving menu, boiling the brine to marinate the big turkey (the family carnivores, request). The kitchen smells amazing! See for yummy holiday fixings.....and looking forward to this roasted provolone recipe (i.e., appetizer) I'm making from BonAppetit. Here's to food in good company....

another inspiration at breakfast when the light hit the oozing yoke, just right....

first things first

Window at sunrise's blue hour. Tricia Louvar was here. And took this image. 

Window at sunrise's blue hour. Tricia Louvar was here. And took this image. 

The snowy days do not keep me down. Rather, they are wells of inspiration and childish delight. I took this shot around 7 am, after spending two hours writing, and commencing with a green tea latte and revising one short fiction story along with Coffitivity. My doggy was doing the business while I waited at the door. 

After a splendid Valentine's Day date and the will to just stay put today, I am making homemade gluten-free pretzels (plenty of ways of use up the assortment of mustards in the cabin) and read this sweet little book on creativity: Making Art a Practice by Cat Bennett. I found it at the library in a roaming daze, a favorite state of mine in a library.  I work out a little. I hike with the gent. I do a few more push-ups here and there while waiting for this or that. Here's to small joys...and hoping I don't burn the pretzels promises. It's a carb night! I can feel it...screw balance on a Saturday night, I say.

facing west

A spot where imagination does the work. And stacking wood helps, too.Happy New Year. This morning I decided to go through old drafts of stories I had written and then let them die a slow death, until now.

I happened across one from over a year ago. Part of it I like. Part of it I deleted. The give-and-take of the creative process is an interesting intersection of will and collapse. But as I start 2014 with more stories collected and finished, I think of little spots I adore and keep safe in my arsenal of architecture of storymaking.

Let the muse infuse new hues. May you find your inner beast of creativity....and run a mile or two for good measure.

For now I am reading and enjoying Paul Harding's Enon and Paul Auster's Oracle Nights. Both Pauls again on the nightstand.

staying away from the curtain

The cabin has no curtains. Wolf pack, get a load of all this. Wet head out of shower. Morning hair tucked under Burton beanie. Yoga pants + leg warmers. What a treat. An artist needs time to hear the onslaught of creative whispers worth mapping out. I once heard an artist say, Don't look behind the curtain (i.e., don't get bogged down in what others are doing). Keep doing what you're doing no matter what. Here I go.

A little space to call a haven for...something...paltry sketches, I suppose, and other maneuvers of spirited quests. No complaints here. A mouse friend likes tea here, too, I found out. We said hello one morning in the kitchen.

flashback: a banter on temperature

He builds a fire. We're in the high wilderness. Haven't seen anybody. Sun is almost down.
"It's going to get cold tonight, uh?" I say.
We're at 10,000 feet.
"Aren't you cold?" I ask him.
Him: wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt standing on one side of the fire.
Me: wearing layers, hands deep in my pockets, and standing on the other side of the fire.
"I'm tired of you being cold," he says.
"I'm tired of you being hot," I say.
We both look in silence at each other. Smile.

To my surprise: he heated up this rock + stuck it into my mummy bag for a good night's sleep of warmth. Awesome hot rock therapy!