Squeezing in Some Me Time

Finished up a new journal last night. This is a close up of the plaster cover, the next photo shows the cover in its entirety.

I like to make the next journal when I get down to the last signature of the previous one; I write a lot so I know I'll be needing it soon. Sooooo juicy fun to hole up in my studio tearing paper, sewing, talking to myself. I'm great company.

This is the journal front and back. It has 4 signatures of 6 folded sheets; Italia and Roma papers interwoven. I reinforced the canvas spine with cardboard and the book is tighter. It tells me it loves its new, firm backbone and I do too.

Where's Waldo?

Ah, cutting grapes for the table. Cows like grapes too and they know what grows on that vine very well. They are smart when it comes to food they like. They know where the goodies are just like we do.

We grow Hopi Dye Red Amaranth in our garden so I decided to make some ink out of the flowers. I looked all over the web for a recipe but found none so I used my noggin to codge something together. First I boiled it in water.

Then I added a dried up oak gall I'd gathered on my morning walk. The old timers used to make ink out of oak gall but theirs was probably fresh while mine had dried up and fallen off the tree. I threw it in anyway.

Then I added a splash of gum arabic for body and gin for the alcohol to make it dry faster (have a belt yourself while you're at it).

It made an excellent, brilliant red ink. Not wine red (hmmmm, another idea) but more of a quinacridone shade.

So then I gathered up some Oregon Grape to make some more ink out of. In my web ramblings I came across some notations about the pioneers making ink out of these. Probably they were fresher than this batch but things are drying up around here.

I only made a tiny batch because that's all the seeds I gathered. I threw in an onion peel for good measure. I used to make Easter egg dye for the kids out of them.

Using the same approach I made an ink that turned out pinky-brown. Beautiful but I think the best will be when I mix the two together. Why do I do these things? I have no idea beyong simple curiosity. My brain goes, "hey! What color would the ink be if you boiled this down?" and then I have to know. Plus I lovvve my dip pens.


Okay, that's all my news for today. Go forth and play nicely. Inspire each other. Be curious.

Elusive Balance

Restless mind. I keep remembering the woman at Squam last year who spent 2 years setting up a photography business only to find that when she had at last achieved success her fickle wants had changed direction. She asked for guidance. I told her that this is the way it goes. We build our dreams on a solid foundation and then we have new dreams. New dreams that require new time, commitment and service. Or we quit the 40 hour a week job to become freelance and then discover that it is lonely, the hours are impossible, that even in wild success there is still something else we want to do. Maybe that's just how the creative mind works.

This is the result of yesterday's windstorm. Our exquisite 3 year old persimmon tree broken at the trunk, splayed in two directions. It echoes every loss of the last 10 years for me. I am in a tender mood.

This promise is not to be. And sometimes that's how things go.

A friend and reader this week reminded me that life is not all margaritas and trips to Santa Fe. I want to assure others that I agree. I see the same things you do. My mother was depressed most of the time I was growing up and I saw first hand what a life of constant sorrow and looking back came to. She was being honest; she felt everything too deeply and was in emotional pain. I chose not to live her life, though I have the same tendencies. I chose to see life from a different vantage point and to my surprise I discovered that vigilant cultivation of a hopeful spirit can lift the sadness.

This is another reason I have been in my cave all week. I am preparing packets and hand-outs for 6 classes; 2 at Squam (classes filled) and 4 at Art & Soul in Portland (spaces left in 2 classes). These are just the hand-outs. The packets themselves will fill several postal cartons. It is a time consuming labor of love. And yet as I go about these tasks my paints and brushes are calling to me as never before.

I declined one teaching invitation this week and as soon as I screw up my courage I will decline a second. I am making time to paint. I am excited. Maybe I'll take a class. Take my turn to be pampered, inspired and thrilled with new possibilities.

I'm excited.

More time to cook for my honey, my beloved daughters and their families, our friends right here in River City.

So that's what's been roiling through my brain as I sit in my cave watching the rain drip and daydreaming.

We artists are the luckiest people on the planet; know why? Because we know that as creators of things we are also the creators of our own lives. We are given bodies and situations and then we get to decide how to tell the story. And knowing we have this choice makes all the difference.

Sister to Sister

The other day I received a book in the mail from a student that I met in Arizona named Mary Fisher. That's her in the round glasses above, exactly as she looked sitting in the front row of my journaling class. Mary is a good example of the outstanding human beings among us who turn their superpowers toward the light. Specifically, she has been working to help women in Africa who have discovered they have Aids to find a way to provide for themselves and their children. Imagine for a moment how it would feel to look at your hungry children and to have to choose between needed antiviral medicine and food.

Mary can tell you the story of her journey far better than I can summarize it; please go to her website and see if you have it in your heart to purchase some of the jewelry these women are making to support themselves. Each piece of jewelry is signed by the artist and here you can go to see who the artist was and to read their story and see what they look like. Really a sister to sister connection.

Something about this story just spoke to me. Perhaps you will feel the urge to do what you can too. xo

Santa Fe Love Affair

One week ago today John and I boarded a plane that eventually delivered us to the home of his sister and her husband in Colorado. For the third time we all gathered for a road trip to Santa Fe in time for the Indian Market.

So first allow me to introduce our cast of characters. John of course you know. His sister Judy E. is in the photo above. She (among other things) actually cooks out of the Julia Child cookbook. (yum!)

Her husband Jack you may have met on his blog, The Galloping Goose. He has also written about our trip there. He is a wonderful oil painter and does drawings that actually look like the things he means to draw.

Christine is John's niece and she lives near her mother in Denver with her husband Rick. She is a fiber artist.

Rick is about the smartest guy on the planet. He's got me schooled up on Woot (has an iPhone app), Edward Tufte, Snaptel and Evermore (both iPhone apps). My projects for the next few months.

So the three units of two manned three vehicles and tooled south through the high mountains until we reached Santa Fe.

There was a lot to see on the seven hour drive.

Most of the time we were at elevations of over a mile high. Santa Fe is around 7000 ft. elevation. The thin air has an extraordinary effect on one's body; you feel sort of stoned all the time.

You see things in a different light. For one thing the sky is so blue you can hardly believe it.

And for another the clouds are blindingly bright, white and near you. So opposite of Oregon.

The first night we tucked into our favorite haunt, Marias. Here you can choose between hundreds of kinds of tequilas and agave liquors. The food is classic New Mexican style Mexican. We love it.

The next day we hit Canyon Road with great vigor. Oh, the profusion of good art is nearly overwhelming. This is where you come to learn, to see, to enjoy.

I'm standing in front of my favorite find of this year; a painting by Don Quade. I love love love his work. You can enjoy the work at the link and see if it appeals to you.

Me me me. Well, it's my blog. ;-)

This work is by Michelle Y. Williams and it is an abstract on metal framed cleverly between two sheets of acrylic held by copper bolts.

I purchased one of her pieces although not one of the two pictured here. Yum yum.

I'm forgetting to mention here that a number of these shots were taken by either Jack or Rick. Jack caught me in this one running away from the monkey.

Pomegranate Margaritas were the drink of the trip. At that altitude it only takes one.

Rick shot this beauty.

About 5 minutes after John took this shot the clouds burst forth with a fragrant, cooling rain. We were at the Folk Art Museum.

On the drive back John and I stopped at this small hotel in Taos where we once spent a week in the early 90's. We were glad to see that the giant cottonwoods still shaded the patio and that all was as we remembered.

Driving back to Colorado.

A reader asked what my traveling art kit contained so I shot a photo for you. I love being able to see into the pouch so I know if what I need is there. I carry pens, a date stamp, a set of hand carved numbers in a tiny mint tin, 2 small rubber stamp pads, a glue stick and scissors.

On our last morning I journaled and we ate at Judy E.'s house; flautas, sweet melon and salad. The pot in the photo is a Hopi treasure that Judy bought at the market. She has a collection of Hopi pots; she is the one among us who collects while in Santa Fe.

Last night we returned to Portland, full of memories and glad to be home.

Here is my portrait for Self Portrait Wednesday. For once I unpacked my bag immediately; now to catch up with friends and family. Vaya con Dios.