Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
i've always known framing was important to works of art that i'd acquired.
however, being in my sixties before i actually created pieces of my own, and
then taking a looooooooong time to realize i appreciated what i'd done: this was
so pleased is what i am since i have finally framed and hung some of my own work.
an acceptance, yes, but more than that. seeing. hard to SEE my own. strange, that self-critical voice, it causes objectiveness to depart. you all know that.
it's exciting to walk past things i've created. the first little one greets me in the foyer. and the BIG PODS finally at home at the top of the steps.....
and with the walk-bys, sometimes there's a touch of a memory that the making of the painting holds. the way the breeze felt that day i was outdoors and splashing on shellac. finding the pod that it all came from.
touchstones. personal and pleasing.
good memories, especially today, during the LAST big snow of the year.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Protected BEE ART
Safe on a sill with the remains
of many past walks and
i listened to all your comments: the don't melt it ones. i really didn't think i would. i feel like i've been made the caretaker of a delicate part of nature here. amazing work. LOOK AT THAT LAST CLOSE UP...mind-boggling.
i first thought that i'd be unwrapping a big clump of yellowish wax, not THIS. i guess the beekeeper cuts off the 'overflow' of cone? and i was astonished to see this. so, i'll just order up some wax. and leave this masterpiece beeeee.
please click on the last photo to enlarge it. such perfect geometry..
Monday, February 15, 2010
yesterday's best gift
delivered with chocolates
from my photographer friend
mary whalen dropped by yesterday with handmade chocolates
for my husband and i...and brought this delicate work to me.
she'd been photographing her neighbor's beehives, and knew
i was beginning to experiment with encaustics...
can i possibly melt this?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A gift of a poem this weekend, titled "God Went Away for the Winter, She Said" written by Renee Gregorio, New Mexico, from The Storm That Tames Us.
"It's hard between two people.
Some days we walk the clouds of these mountains.
Others I hear only complaints, the straight
lines of will. Embracing the ordinary
is wrestling the winter-god. Note the shifting
color of your skin. What is the same
can gather strength, a rolling snowball,
can be ally, mistress, lover.
Yesterday I woke to three rainbows
on the living room floor, your chest
rising and falling under my splayed fingers.
Today you said 'Look at that,' pointing
to the intricate spaces between the piled wood.
'It's an accident,' you said, meaning the beauty
that arrived outside our window, or
that you noticed it. I have a bar of soap
from Mexico with a man and woman kissing.
My friend's gift. 'This brings the man you want
to you,' she said. On the wall there's a photo
of you and me kissing, years ago now, on a patio
in Santa Fe. That alchemy once came to us, will again.
It's hard between two people. In December I wrote:
Dearest love. This is the world we've always wanted,
our breath rising and falling like one hundred magpies
under the dying lilac bush. The sun is hiding.
We are our own best kindling."
above, my rapt beach glass and twigs, 2x1 inches
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
i benefit at home, hearing his music in the next room while working in here.
last friday, a great gathering shared the experience at an art opening for mary whalen's photography!
it's only the beginning!
SHARING THE SOUNDS