All You Can Art

HH Path to Beach 2014-09-24 15.21.30 Being an artist is sometimes like having an endless smorgasbord of inspiration and ideas. I try to tend to it. I never take it for granted. I like to share regularly. Most days I can’t help noticing the density of life around me, the lushness of sight and sound, making note, taking shots with the camera, cataloging and processing in darkness and silence. v New work can emerge from playful splashing in muddy puddles – in the garden, in the palette or the dye pot. palette3 Like the germinating Japanese indigo seeds in my kitchen window that warm and incubate, imagination simmers, distills, materializes.

DSC02452 Even my seedlings enjoy a view of the mountains.

Some pods birth today. Others will relish the soil a bit longer before promise turns green with fuchsia stems.

A hefty list of the time between posts.

Piles of raw eco-printed paper Paper MordantMordanting DSC02418Raw Material DSC02441Done DSC02448Not so done.

Making sun tea.

Marks on paper, paint, pencil, stencil? oak and blue1Over leaf impressions DSC02449Straight to paper

Plotting for the “Roy-B-Giv Game.” with Jennifer and Julie.  A hint… DSC02456

Tutu’s on the brain. DSC02409Tree climbing tutu.

Digging with bare hands into the microbes of well-balanced soil.

Reading: The Alphabet of Trees DSC02450 Rearranging the furniture to make more room for the creative mess.

Finishing some stitching from “yesterday’s” bits and starts.

And stitching and stitching.

It must tell me “done.” DSC02426

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Letting the floss bin spill thread formations in perfect bends and turns.

Fabric wisps blowing into position. DSC02417

Looking at friends projects on the screen- stirring my duende.

Going to work at the little quilt shop up the road. 20150130_123845

Pleased and pressed to celebrate lots of babies with sewn confections of another sort. DSC02463 Binding, binding, binding, Thimbles aren’t enough to save my fingers this week.

Some things never change:  Birds, feathers, houses rear in abundance.

Minor mechanial malfunctions: resolved.

Trying to find meaning.

Who knows, maybe the root is the flower from that other life.”                   Mary Oliver

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