i'm still piecing together little collections in my miniature paper museum.
although when i woke up this morning not all of my collections were as I left them.
i gather & sort and buck moss bats them onto the floor with his big paws while i sleep.
how rude!
interested in garden ispiration? go HERE. i drank my morning cuppa while flipping the pages. swoonworthy.
|
|
hello. i'm right where you left me.
swimming in a sea of paper scraps.
i keep stopping and making tabletop collages out of assorted collections.
summer shenanigans.
|
|
petting cats
picking lemons
making lemon marmalade (thanks for the recipe susan w.)
watching shooting stars from my driveway
getting ready to plant a peach/nectarine cocktail tree in my front yard (!)
(all i'm saying about cocktail trees is this: waahuh?)
|
|
Rain on succulents. Clusters of sparkly globes balancing on the leaves. Little worlds under each.
My Meyer lemon tree is budding for the first time. Since it's my first lemon tree it could just as well be the only lemon tree on earth. Getting ready to blossom. For the first time ever! EVER. Producing the world's first lemons! Who cares that the entire city is practically a grove of lemon trees? Psshaw!
Another panel. From part...
to whole. That's me on my steed galloping directly toward a lazy weekend. Or my next super-hero assignment. Either one.
Yes. Once, you really looked this doe-eyed and fresh from a milk bath. You glowed that brightly. Your eyes held that much mischief and merry making. It's true. It really happened.
Please tell me you'll go get the book Matilda and read it every single night to your dumbstruck child. Who will stare at you with equal parts confusion and hilarity. Who will howl uncontrollably when you read the part about Matilda supergluing Mr. Wormwood's hat to his mean head.
|
|
Lately after a day of educating young punks, I scramble home to the disordered splendor of my art room and start making messes. Right on.
It's soothing - the making of mess. Let's focus for a moment on the mess above. The purple and yellow and pink and red one. Yeah, that one.
Stuff happened to it. I got impulses to do things. And just like that, I did them. And I didn't look back. Okay well, maybe I looked back 6 or 7 times, but then I moved on.
Last night when I should have been getting ready for bed, I decided to hang everything. That totally happened.
The section above is the FINISHED section. It will be expanding soon to another wall, because let's face it, when you live alone prized family heirlooms can be moved to the garage and you can like hang whatever you want, wherever you want it. End of story. So basically what I'm saying is that pretty soon all 648 square feet of Moss Cottage is going to be covered with these. I like to think of it as an art opening for the cat posse. Really. That's just how I roll.
|
|
Tomorrow I awake at the crack of dawn and resume life as a monkey whisperer. Instead of being sullen, unpleasant, and hostile about the final grains of vacation sand leaving the top of the hourglass and dropping into the bottom, I distracted myself with more wood panels.
By Wednesday when the thundering herd of monkeys come racing back into the classroom I will have forgotten all about the last 60 days of vacation. But, I have lots more wood panels lying in wait!
These panels measure 16 by 16 inches. In case you were wondering...
|
|
I'm having the time of my life in my tiny workshop experimenting with more wood panels. That's me there in the canoe paddling down a shimmering river. Big smile on my face. A flower tucked behind each ear.
At night I leave the canoe and make camp for the night. I build small bonfires. And send smoke signals out into the world. Thick while smoke against a black sky. Leave your house. Go outside right now and stare up at the sky. Tell me if you can see them.
|
|
Continuing to practice random acts of tomfoolery in the art room. Pure hits of narcotic bliss. One after another.
No outcome in mind when I start except a good time. My inner 2nd grade craft monkey is practically stuttering with excitement. Playful exploring. Is there a better drug? I don't think so. Naturally while I'm getting busy with the wood panels, my emotions run the gamut. I pretty much flip back and forth between these 2 headlines:
LA Art Genius Stuns the ARt World
and
Imbecilic Talentless Crackpot Hack Needs a New Hobby
|
|
|
|
It is something- it can be everything- to have found a fellow bird with whom you can sit among the rafters. A fellow bird whom you can look after and find bugs and seeds for; one who will patch your bruises and straighten your ruffled feathers and mourn over your hurts when you accidentally fly into something you can't handle.
-Wallace Stegner from The Spectator Bird
Thunder is booming over my head as I write this post. Lightening just flashed in the window. Everything is rattling. A torrential downpour is beginning. Batten down the hatches! Everyone take cover! RAIN has come to LA after a long long long dry 7 or 8 months. Okay, the part about the lightening I made up, but it could happen. Somewhere it could. Like Ohio maybe. And perhaps I exaggerate the magnitude of the torrents. But the cat posse is cowering. The smaller members. The big one goes about his business. In my way of course.
No matter, I'm breathing in lungfuls of rainy air. The french windows next to my desk are open wide and it's downright dark inside Moss Cottage. How thrilling and delightful! I will need to be told a bedtime story tonight. Preferably a scary one. That takes place in a little rowboat set afloat on a wild sea. Where rescue is uncertain.
In other news, I have been making collages on boxy 8 by 8 canvases. Canvases that have been sitting in my garage since my last brief, yet energetic commitment to an art cause. I do enjoy the causes. There is something so satisfying about cutting, gluing, sewing, rifling through the pages of my 1965 Pictorial Encyclopedia of Birds. On a rainy day. In the dead center of a wicked storm.
Full frontals of those collages tomorrow.
Brown Sugar bloomed this morning. Amid cool high winds of perhaps, at least...I'd say, probably like 40 mph, I dashed out in gown and slippers. Clip. Good thing. She would not have enjoyed a lashing of rain.
|
|
|
|
I have a new mission in life. It is called Making Postcards While Simultaneously Building Postcard Empire in my mind. All the details are worked out. Goodbye monkeys. Hello wealth and chateau in small French village, apartment in Rome, yacht (with sea captain) to roam Greek islands. Someone get me another martini!
Complete, utter, rhapsodic enjoyment. Enhanced by not 1, but 2 Emily Wells cds spinning over and over and over and over. Oy. Discovered her last week on KCRW. Fell in love today. Mt. Washington and 50 Year Love Affair are good introductions. Symphonic folktronica. Who knew?
Wish I knew how to have copies made on heavyweight non-glossy paper before I send them out into the world. Hmmmmmm must turn off the music and put on thinking cap. Put away martini shaker. Get serious.
In the meantime I'm adding a postcard photo album. And going apple picking with my brother, Paul tomorrow. 20 more days of vacation. New president in 13 days. Life is good.
|
|
