mixed media

new vintage, no. 1

The Basics of a Day: 

Morning--coffee, fruit blend, + mixed media blend of paint + vintage found photograph in studio hut

Afternoon--lunch, back in studio hut to begin new writing project, coffee run, walk with coffee in town, back home for snack, more writing continues....

Dinner--yet to be decided

Therefore, pretty rad day. Books reading:

John Taylor's "In the Pleasure Groove" (guilty read) & Annie Dillard "The Writing Life" (great to open up and revisit random passages)

now it's becoming something....

The football games were on in the background. They are noise in the house when autumn hits. And I read this article about how when you find your true center you have ample energy. Some exciting stuff is brewing in my life, which is why I woke up energized and ready to paint at three o'clock in the morning. So I got up, made breakfast, and started in on this little illustration mixed media piece. The sun eventually came up. And then I had my second breakfast, which I think was lunch at eight o'clock in the morning. If you live with a creative person, I am sorry. Sometimes we make noise at odd hours.

mixed media, 3am in a full mood to doodle + create

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!

Inkblot Friday, No. 1

Long hair twisted/unraveled/carrying on about it's weight down a back/hair has expectations to be about something, someone, how we identify roles and genders and status. The same expectations happen when we leave out words, or block them out. So goes my exploration of having something in the picture and blocking it out. What is behind the black dot would change the message. It's like the act of double-speak I hear all to often.

mixed media in journal/ doodling as a thinking technique...hurrah