Hope Springs Eternal

For almost twenty years, I've held a picture of the life I most desire as an artist and writer, living close to nature's rhythms, the rhythms of daily household life. I imagine a life in which I can devote several hours each day to domestic chores and outdoor reverie, as many hours to setting my inspirations into words and image, with time and energy yet to embrace the considerable challenge of sharing my work with the world.

Here I am, living on a dead end road in a town that is 40% land preserve, with a garden and a dog and a supportive spouse, and just enough financial stability to say that, while certainly risky, nothing stands in my way but fears and insecurities. Part of my hesitation is about money, part of it is about turning away potential clients (why is it scary to say no?), part of it is that internal ego-crushing critic, chanting who do you think you are? in the unfriendliest tone

But I am soon to turn 40, and I can't let these fears and insecurities call the shots any longer.

When designer Stefan Sagmeister decided to close his studio to give himself a year off for creative explorations, his first bold move was to tell everyone. That way, he reports in his October, 2009 TED talk, The Power of Time Off, he wouldn't be able to chicken out.

This morning at the gym, a friend told me about her beloved assistant of twenty years, who died suddenly this week, just a month shy of retirement.

There are no guarantees.

Yesterday my neighbor and I walked our dogs together, and saw this pond along the way. I believe these patterns exist always in this pond, formed as underground springs push up toward the surface. Thanks to just the right combination of cold and snow, the invisible is revealed.

I was so inspired, I couldn't wait to get home so I could return immediately with my camera.

While shooting, I decided it was time to admit it: I am plotting a special year, beginning with my birthday in early March. I have already begun turning down work. I have my own underground springs, a million and one half-dreamed and partially completed projects that I will no longer push aside. Life is now!

American Thrift

One of the art associations I belong to stages a yearly "6 x 6 Show." Each participant may submit up to six pieces, all six-inch square including frames. Here's a sneak preview of my six collages, hope you like:

Show Time!

Are you anywhere near Putnam, CT? If so, come meet me and a bunch of other artists next Friday evening at Silver Circle Studio gallery, at the opening reception for the Holiday art show. Check out the poster above, more info on their website.

Big art plans in the works, tune in soon for more details! (Hint: I'm turning forty in a few months —Life's too short. It's now or never.)

I've been swallowed up lately, partly by design work (students and clients) but also by a rip-roaring need to clean and organize my home. When this happens, and it doesn't happen often, I try to go with it, to pour myself into the sudden obsessive need to scrub the sink and sweep the floors and rearrange furniture and throw out old magazines. Perhaps I'm clearing the decks for something big just around the corner. I can't quite see around that corner yet, though it seems my vision is clearing. Indeed, as I wipe cobwebs from the window sills, return tools and shoes and books to their rightful shelves and drawers, and tick someday-maybe tasks off an almost forgotten mental list, I notice my mind returning to order as well. The horizon is clearing. There's room again to appreciate the poetry of simple things.

For instance, these snapshots I finally downloaded from my cell phone's camera.

Collage Inspirations

Sorry, I've been a slacker.

Check these out:

Derek Gores' sophisticated, pop-arty zen-randomness culled from magazine scraps.

The spirited, evocative compositions in Michelle Lynne Goodfellow's journals made with unpretentious materials: found paper, marker, and crayon.

The Book Cover Archive - a great collection. Book cover design = collage. Sort of.

More Flow

This is my second posting of hand-marbelized papers. Making these is the ultimate in play: experiments and happy accidents are the name of the game. Perhaps that should be my new orientation to life.

Each are about 19" x 12.5" and available for purchase for $35. Click on them to see bigger, crisper images.

Life is Now

6.5 x 6.5 x 2"

As a young adult, and certainly before then, it seemed that life was something I was preparing for, something that would begin once I finished school, once I established my career, once I fell in love. I had high hopes for my eventual life. But these hopes came bundled with an equal measure of worry and apprehension – maybe things wouldn't work out! Even my most optimistic moments were in themselves a double-edged sword. The present always paled in comparison.

In the midst of my angst, I came across Ram Daas' Remember, Be Here Now in a friend's apartment, which made me laugh. Though I only thumbed through it briefly, I found myself thinking about the book for weeks. The message sank in gradually. Life – my present-time, right-now life – improved.

It occurred to me today that I'm ready for a refresher of this idea. I'm working on that.

In the meantime, a few creative inspirations:

Kate Bingaman-Burt's Obsessive Compulsion blog: charming drawings of what she bought today. (She's been keeping track for years.)

Check out innovative packaging from a designer/environmentalist's perspective at: the Dieline.

Colorful organic forms in collage with paper, ink, colored pencil, like none other - by Emily Ann Pothast.

Meticulous abstractions in drawing, collage, and 3d by Sam Messenger.

All of the above found via Share Some Candy - so much more to see there. Check it out.