Taking a Holiday

I had a great holiday weekend! I didn’t go anywhere at all.  Friends came over on Monday, so I cleaned a little and cooked a little and we all had fun.  Just stayed home and wandered from the garden to my studio to my computer to the kitchen.   Despite the lack of activity in my life, the feeling that it was a holiday was somehow still in the air, and I gave myself a vacation from stress, from haste, and from the need to cross things off my constantly growing list of things to do.

On Sunday, it was especially beautiful out, and I found myself picking up my camera and just walking around the house, down to the studio and back, and all around the house, down to the meadow, and back around again.  I took a lot of pictures on that sunny day.  For some reason, I wanted to fix that moment in time .  It felt important to document the house where I live and the flowers that I nurture.

It was part of my holiday, like going away to an exotic place, and taking a million pictures to capture all those memories and visual treasures.  But I didn’t even have to get in my car to have the holiday experience.  I just stayed home and started looking at things with a fresh eye.  Discovering the brilliance of the azaleas as if I had never seen them before.  Watching the bees swarm around the chive blossoms, I felt like I was on a wildlife expedition.

It was too much fun!  I picked out a few of my favorites to put here.  Normally, I play around with photos trying to make them better, adjusting the light and the color to get what I want (or think I want).  But this time, I just left them the way they were.  No cropping or changing them in any way.  Snapshots.  Postcards.  From my holiday at home.

I think that I’ll come back to this place again.

 

The Experiment

Several months ago I moved some of my basket-making material down to my studio.   It was kind of an experiment to see if I would work more on the baskets in the privacy and quiet of the room that had been just for painting.  For a while, it all just sat there in a kind of disorganized heap, and it looked like the experiment was going to be a failure.

Then not too long ago, I started looking over what I had brought down.  I took some time to sort through the material, and then I started playing with it.  And I have to say that it is feeling really good to be working on baskets right there in my studio.   Different somehow than working in the house where I am always distracted with this and that, or sitting down to weave while I watch a movie or talk with friends.  Different even than gathering with our basket group once a month.  Very different than taking a class.

Because in the studio, I am both the student and the teacher.  I think about everything that I’m doing and allow myself the time to do it right.  I am not thinking about finishing the basket anymore than I am thinking about finishing a painting.  It is all about the process, and so much less about the product.  Although ultimately, with both painting and basket making, a product would be nice at some point along the way.

So now in addition to the six unfinished paintings on paper that are tacked on the wall, there are six unfinished baskets.  It all makes me happy in ways that I can’t quite explain.  Holding the baskets, molding their shapes, and working with them so closely.  They become such a part of me.  Then turning to paint, holding the brush, feeling connected to the surface it touches.  Listening to what they are all trying to teach me.

Right at Home

Last weekend I took yet another workshop and learned yet another new thing that I am excited about making.  This time, I went off to San Juan Island and spent a beautiful day outdoors making concrete leaves.  It is a really fun process and wonderfully tactile, even though rubber gloves are essential.  It starts with making a mound of sand, then laying the leaf on top of that.  The really fun part is mixing the concrete and then laying it on the leaf.  It is earthy and sensual to feel the cool, mushy concrete as it gets molded onto the leaf, moving it and shaping it to the desired thickness with the right contour.

There is a lot of potential for these leaves.  They are fun to make and fun to paint.  And I could see getting really wild with colors and shapes that have nothing to do with the natural world.  A purple leaf with yellow dots for instance.  We’ll see.

I keep learning new things that I want to do, and then feeling panic when I don’t have enough time to do them.  Or to do them justice.  Or to do them at all.  Somewhere along the line, it has to stop.  Yes?

For now, this leaf looks right at home in my garden.  At home in my garden, outside my house where my cats and lover live, near my studio where I want to be.  When I’m not off taking more workshops, that is.  Oh you mean like the wonderful mini wire basket that I’m going to learn this weekend?

But after this, I swear I’m staying home!

It’s That Time of Year Again

This is the third Spring that we have lived in this house, the third Spring that I have seen the clematis in bloom, and the third Spring that I am getting to watch it engulf more and more of the house.  There is something so spectacular about this expanse of pink spreading out over the porch on the main floor and spreading up to the small deck that is off our second floor bedroom.  It almost takes my breath away.  And each year I eagerly wait for it because for me, it signifies the true beginning of the abundance of green and color that is yet to come.  I means that it’s time to wake up!

As time goes by, I am getting more and more in rhythm with this property that we are renting.  I know what to expect now that the daffodils and tulips are gone.  The lilacs are already in bloom.  The heather kept blooming throughout the winter.  Soon there will be irises, another happy moment.  It is the rhythm of Spring and the awakening of my body and my brain.  I await the lilies and the peonies and the hollyhocks as the prospect of summer entices me on these lovely sunny days.

I create in the early evening while it is still light out, and my back tells me that I’ve done enough gardening for the day.  Then I can be in my studio and allow the experiences of the day to inform what I paint or what I weave or what I draw or what I read.  All one.

Still a bit cool, especially at night.  I move in that rhythm as well.  The cool evenings invite soup or stews or casseroles, and some red wine.  I allow myself to rest and am delighted that I can sleep with a down comforter on these cool nights.

The mornings are for greeting the day and the clematis!!

getting back

This is what the studio looked like just before I left for Pennsylvania in early April. There were lots of projects in process. Paintings, drawings, baskets, painted magnets.  It was messy and lively.  It felt so good to be in there.  I was content.

Today it felt a little abandoned.  It needs a good cleaning.  It wants attention.  I need to reestablish contact with all those projects.  I need to reset my priority to be in there.  I always have great plans to float right back into painting as soon as I get back home.  I have so many ideas.  

And then I’m always a little more tired, a lot less creative, and more behind with other stuff than I bargained for.

So be it!