aestheticflow

Inspiration: Rebirth by Samuel Guiton

2011-09-06T23:09:00.000-04:00

Rebirth from Samuel Guiton on Vimeo.

Silent. Beautiful.

Khary Jackson: Slam Poetry

2011-04-19T19:55:00.003-04:00

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of watching Khary Jackson perform his poetry. An accomplished performance artist, he held the room captive with his words. Enjoy this performance from the 2009 St Paul Grand Slam.

Inspiration: Guillermo del Toro

2011-04-10T17:53:00.000-04:00

Recently, an article in The New Yorker by Daniel Zalewski celebrated the imaginative monster creations of Guillermo del Toro. I remember watching Pan's Labyrinth and being simultaneously horrified and fascinated by his lurid and labyrinthine world, and was thrilled to come across this video exploration of his journals that accompanies the New Yorker article. Enjoy!

Snowdrop Watch 2011!

2011-03-13T18:37:00.000-04:00

All signs indicate that Spring is coming to the Northeast! Warm winds and soft rain all day were just enough to coax a bloom out of this early snowdrop.

Inspiration: Supakitch & Koralie

2011-03-11T16:10:00.000-05:00

SUPAKITCH & KORALIE - VÄRLDSKULTUR MUSEET GÖTEBORG from elr°y on Vimeo.

Supakitch and Koralee are two French street artists who have joined together in a powerful artistic partnership inspired by Japanese manga. Due to my not remembering anything from freshman year German class, I'm not exactly sure what/where this video takes place, but I love the energy behind their work, and the chance to watch their process in action.

Inspiration: Kseniya Simonova’s “You Are Always Nearby”

2011-03-03T19:07:00.002-05:00

Check out this lovely piece of sand animation as featured on "Ukraine's Got Talent", in which Simonova tells the wrenching story of a young couple separated by the horrors of WWII. Bonus points for her use of Metallica's "Nothing Else Mattters"(recorded and arranged by Apocalyptica) in the final sequence...

texture

2010-05-04T20:10:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago we had a warm spell and PK and I went out to the beach for a walk. I was feeling a little cranky for some reason, and had left my camera at home, perhaps thinking "same old beach, same old photo opportunities, blah blah blah..." We drove down the long entrance road to the nature preserve, past hordes of people walking along the sides of the trails and generally clogging up our progress. The road turned to dirt, and we dodged potholes full of thick grey mud that splashed over the windshield and smeared across the hood. Eventually, we left the crowds behind and made our way out to the end of a lonely spit of land. As we walked around the corner of the beach, the sun slipped down on the horizon, and I kept finding my attention drawn to the little ripples of windswept sand. Over and over, I "borrowed" PK's camera and lagged behind, watching the way the sand grains moved with the wind, caught on a ridge and sank into one another. Though I never quite captured the moment, I realized the importance of letting go of preconceived notions and sinking in the moment and its opportunities. Such a simple idea, but one that is too easy for me to forget...

let the sun shine in...

2010-01-22T16:19:00.001-05:00

This morning I was running late for work-not horribly late, I was just on track to get there 20 minutes early instead of 40. Usually I drive to work in a bit of a daze, numbed by the cold and the dark and whatever horrible tragedy is playing out on the morning news. This morning I noticed the world changing from black to grey to a beautiful pale blue as the sun started coming up over the distant trees. I haven't driven to work in light since early fall, and it warmed my brain to have some exposure to sunshine before entering the flourescent false daylight of school. Once again, I am awed by the earth's cycles and feeling re-energized by the return of spring. It must be time to start planning this year's garden...

2010-01-13T16:48:00.003-05:00

"There is a vitality, a life-force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time this expression is unique. and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it! It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open."

-Martha Graham

Another Mountain New Years

2010-01-04T19:06:00.000-05:00

Once again, I spent New Year's Eve on a mountain, watching the snow fall quietly down, landing in whispers and hush. It was a long trek in, made longer by my heavy pack of warm clothing and 0 degree bag, but as I climbed the steep slope of the last quarter mile of trail, I was rewarded with a temporary break in the snow, and a view of the mountain valley that stretches beyond the hut.

The sun began to set just after I arrived, and I settled myself down to while away the old year with a great group of friends. Laughter was more frequent than words, and I was often content to just sit back and listen to the happy chatter around me. After a long while, the clouds parted again, and we had a single glimpse of the full moon, the second of the month, and I had many reasons to be thankful that I have the warm gift of friendship from such wonderful, creative, adventurous people-not just on the blue moon, but all the days of the year.

Inspiration: Gregory Colbert's "Ashes and Snow"

2010-01-01T09:30:00.003-05:00

This pair of beautiful short films are a compilation of images from artist Gregory Colbert's nomadic art exhibit "Ashes and Snow". Colbert's work is a multimedia exhibit that incorporates visual, musical and written elements, and portrays man and animal as partners in a graceful dance of life. More information on the exhibit can be found here. I can think of no better way to start off the new year than drawing inspiration from Colbert's incredible films and unique vision of the world around him. The first clip is an introduction to the concept, and the second a much larger collection of images. Happy New Year!

Please Pass the Cerulean...

2009-11-29T17:38:00.002-05:00

Setting the stage for Art Night: idea-generating books, bright and diffuse light, plenty of art supplies and (off camera) tasty soup on the stove- spicy pumpkin stew with anadama bread...very inspirational!

For the last few years, PK and I have hosted a series of "Art Nights" as a way to encourage ourselves to paint more. It's been a great way to build enthusiasm for a project and to companionably share our artistic ideas with others. Some years we are more regular about it than others. Lately, we've had so many outside demands on our time that we haven't been having them as often as we like and the absence of shared creative time has been gnawing a hole in us ever since the summer ended. We finally dusted off our brushes and organized our first 2009 Art Night over the holiday break.

PK and a friend in action...

We tend to hold more gatherings in the winter, mostly becuase our lives slow down a little when it's cold outside, and our thoughts tend to turn inwards, towards more contemplative and creative activities. The formula for a successful art night is simple: Invite people over, tell them to bring a current project, and throw some good, simple soup on the stove. These gatherings aren't really parties, they are working get togethers, and it's important to get that across right from the very beginning. When we first started having these, we ran into the "problem" that we have a lot of social friends who wanted to come over and hang out. This is a fabulous problem to have, but we had to be firm about the intent of the gatherings. By stressing that this is a great time to experiment with something new, and by emphasizing that our definition of creative activity is really broad, we have been able to stay true to the focus of the evenings. We've had folks over doing all kinds of activities: Painting, drawing, writing, scrapbooking, fly tying, collage, photoshop and computer art and much much more.

PK painting ducks...his favorite...

I spent the evening doing watercolor exercises. Like my abs, those muscles have been left unused for far too long. I can't wait to break out the brushes again at the next art gathering...

Shadowblogger

2009-11-13T17:26:00.000-05:00

Working on a return to updating this blog with regularity...

In the meantime, writing a novel in a month, teaching full time, painting the house...oh, the excuses are piling up!

Slipping in and out of fog

2009-09-09T21:30:00.003-04:00

Isles of Shoals

2009-07-17T12:55:00.006-04:00

I'm going to call this my "island tour" summer, as I seem to be working my way around all the islands I can get to. In a few weeks I'll be heading out for a week of paddling on the Maine Island Trail, and can't wait for more time to inhale the sea air and draw inspiration from the rocks and birds and waves. The other day I went out to the Isles of Shoals on the border between NH and Maine, and had a great few hours of being stranded on the island and left to wander around the remnants of the old village.

Here is a portion of a poem by Celia Thaxter, who lived and wrote on the islands in the mid-late 1800s...

THE SANDPIPER

Across the narrow beach we flit,

One little sandpiper and I,

And fast I gather, bit by bit,

The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.

The wild waves reach their hands for it,

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,

As up and down the beach we flit,

-One little sandpiper and I.

Above our heads the sullen clouds

Scud black and swift across the sky;

Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds

Stand out the white lighthouses high.

Almost as far as eye can reach

I see the close-reefed vessels fly,

As fast we flit along the beach,

-One little sandpiper and I.

Nantucket

2009-07-14T09:39:00.003-04:00

The first tomato

2009-07-05T19:31:00.001-04:00

Most of our garden is a scraggly mess right now, half ruined by too much rain and too little sun. BUT, deep inside one of the most scraggly looking plants of all, I found this little green gem...perhaps all is not lost...

shipwrecked

2009-06-30T18:07:00.002-04:00

Photo by SFD

Another Greyday

2009-06-18T10:20:00.002-04:00

A Grey Day by William Vaughn Moody

Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape,
Rain whitens the dead sea,
From headland dim to sullen cape
Grey sails creep wearily.
I know not how that merchantman
Has found the heart; but 'tis her plan
Seaward her endless course to shape.

Unreal as insects that appall
A drunkard's peevish brain,
O'er the grey deep the dories crawl,
Four-legged, with rowers twain:
Midgets and minims of the earth,
Across old ocean's vasty girth
Toiling--heroic, comical!

I wonder how that merchant's crew
Have ever found the will!
I wonder what the fishers do
To keep them toiling still!
I wonder how the heart of man
Has patience to live out its span,
Or wait until its dreams come true.

Inspiration: The sea

2009-06-06T13:16:00.008-04:00

The Amazing Flying Blennies by Susan Carlson

Lately, there's been a bit of an ocean theme around here. In part, that's probably because it's summer and I'm spending a lot of time on and in the water, and in part because I've always loved the sea. This summer it started innocently enough with a few kayak trips, and a few seafood dinners, and now has infiltrated all of my art projects as well. And now, the inspiration posts seem to overflow with saltiness and finned creatures. Which brings me to these intricate quilts by Susan Carlson. I'm not a fabric artist, but if I were, I'd want to quilt the sea like this...

Age of Aqua-Wrasse by Susan Carlson

Check out more of her quilts here.

Eider Twilight

2009-06-06T04:40:00.001-04:00

Photo by SFD

"Peacefully

The quiet stars came out, one after one;

The holy twilight fell upon the sea,

The summer day was done."

- Celia Thaxter

Going Coastal

2009-06-04T15:50:00.005-04:00

I'm lucky enough to live close to the ocean, though the shores near me tend to be wooded slopes and seaweed encrusted rock rather than sandy beaches. I went north today, lured by the bright sky and the thought of wide blue seas. Today, cold New England resembled something out of the tropics, with deep blue and turquoise waters that rushed and frothed at the opening to the channel. My mother and I walked along a sandy spit, right to the edges of the sea. But the water was tropical in color only; average water temps are still in the high 40s/low 50s.

I love the way these rocks get tumbled smooth by the waves. There is something comforting about holding a sun-warmed rock in my hand, and running my fingers around its edges, smooth and round as eggs.

These gorgeous quahog shells were all over the beach. This one was larger than my hand. We left it there for others to enjoy...

After exploring the rest of the estuary, we headed home. Now, I'm back in my study, refreshed and ready to work on some more drawings. I have a lot of photos that will make great material for paintings and sketches, and I'm feeling energized by my exposure to the sea. Sometimes I think I have a bit of mermaid, or more likely selkie, in me. I'm never as happy as when I have salt on my skin and sand beneath my fingernails. I managed both today, and am ready to bring it to life on paper...

Inspiration: Derek Hare

2009-05-28T05:09:00.003-04:00

Ardnamurchan Lighthouse by Derek Hare

I've been enjoying these works by English painter Derek Hare, primarily because I like the gauzy light, and the way the seascapes are viewed through a delicate lens of mist and fog. My favorite mornings on the islands are when the world drifts in and out of a light mist, especially when it curls in gentle tendrils off a glassy surface so calm you can see down thirty feet to the rockweed covered floor. Hare's paintings are in oil, but I want to try to use my watercolors to mimic this kind of haze. I'll post successful results when I have them...but it may be a while!

More of his work can be found here.

Sanna Bay by Derek Hale

Fiddleheads

2009-05-27T14:59:00.006-04:00

Photo by SFD

All through the woods the fiddleheads were sprouting up through the dry leaves. Their tender shoots, covered with pale fuzz, symbolize spring to me in a way that few other plants do. Something about the unfurling leaves, perhaps. I always imagine them uncurling, slow and graceful, like a soft ballet set to the music of the dawn chorus of birdsong.

Isolation

2009-05-26T21:43:00.007-04:00

Photo by SFD

PK and I went deep into the mountains this past weekend, in search of new-to-us trails to high peaks, and for a chance to enjoy some isolation, surrounded by wildflowers and the sounds of running water. One of the beautiful things about the mountains this time of year is that the higher you go, the more it seems as though you have travelled back in time to an earlier spring. The trout lilies that were long dried up at the trail head were just about to bloom at the tent site. Trillium and violets were sprinkled across the higher hillsides, and near the summits the leaves were just barely unfurling from their buds.

When you hike with a photographer, the trip takes a lot longer, but you find yourself noticing the smallest details. Squint your eyes and look at a tree, and notice the spaces between the leaves. Watch a flower in the sunlight and then again in shadow, and see the changes in the way the light glints off tiny hairs on the stem. All the parts add up to make the whole, though each is a poem all on its own.

Photo by SFD

Photo by SFD

Photo by SFD

When you hike with a dog, some of that unrestrained exuberance is bound to rub off...

snails skyrocketing in price...

2009-05-26T18:08:00.004-04:00

I've always loved this painting by Jerry Garcia. I first saw it on a tag for "Jerry Garcia Art Ties" back in the day when I sold menswear in a department store as I worked my way through college. I always thought there was something appealing about the brightly colored snail tucked in among the washed out colors of the garden behind it. A few years ago, I went to an exhibit of his work. It was an odd experience-the exhibit wasn't in a regular gallery, but in a function room tucked way in the back of a U-Haul facility. The artwork was laid out on white cloth-covered tables. Only one of the pieces was an original watercolor- the others were prints, like the one above. The whole setup was random, sketchy and a little unreal. I turned down the chance to buy a copy of my favorite piece for only $900. At the time, it seemed like a prudent move not to buy art when I should be buying things like rent and gas.

Or so I thought....

I randomly came across a gallery selling Jerry Garcia prints like the one above for $7900 each. Hmm...I wonder if anyone is buying in these tough times?

Fading Lilacs...

2009-05-21T22:02:00.003-04:00

Today the temperatures climbed into the high 80s, and the air in the garden was thick with the scents of sea salt and lilacs. The purple flowers are all open now, and some are browning around the edges. We're heading into the mountains for the weekend, hiking in two days what we could hike in one, just to slow ourselves down and enjoy the silence of the woods (although perhaps the black flies will speed us up a bit, and then we'll just luxuriate in our tent and read). I'm hoping the lilacs last a little while longer and won't all be gone when we return after the long weekend.

I finished the semester in a flurry of writing, late nights and early mornings spent whacking away at papers and paperwork. Now, I have three long months until I'm back in the classroom again, this time gainfully employed-hurrah! In the midst of all I've been thinking a lot about writing and journals. I struggled with papers this semester, mostly because I was just tired of writing papers for other people on topics that weren't my own, and because I seriously overloaded my schedule in order to finish my certification work. I made it, but I haven't had time to do much writing of my own in the last few months. I've been playing around with different journal types, such as my layered journal , and with the idea of writing a "brain dump" first thing in the morning, what artist Julia Cameron calls "morning pages." The idea of these pages is to clear the mind and get ideas flowing without the requirement of a finished product, and early enough in the day that you aren't distracted by the usual chaos of life. I find that they do bring clarity to my work, and am hoping to do them more regularly now that I don't have to be at work at 7am, or wake up early to get a few pages of paper written. I'll write some more about these journals and the process, because I think it is a really interesting way to explore your own mind a bit. I'm working on some ideas about combining my morning yoga practice with my journaling, since the two have so many parallels in purpose...

And many thanks to folks who have been leaving lovely comments on my garden photos-I'm looking forward to visiting all your sites and catching up on what's been happening in the last few months.

gardenthoughts

2009-05-16T16:33:00.002-04:00

Only 2 days and 14 pages of writing standing between me and summer break! I'm looking forward to actually being able to blog, paint, play and write as much as I want again. In the meantime, here's what's happening in the garden...

Hens and Chicks Bits

2009-05-03T15:04:00.000-04:00

johnny jump-up: not just an innocent flower...

2009-05-02T15:07:00.009-04:00

My favorite flowers have arrived in the gardens...

I stumbled across this tune while innocently trolling the webs for seed packets. Good fun...

Johnny Jump-Up
Traditional

I'll tell you a story that happened to me
One day as I went down to Cork by the sea
The sun it was hot and the day it was warm,
Says I a quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm

I went in and I called for a bottle of stout
Says the barman, I'm sorry, all the beer is sold out
Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood
Says I, I'll try cider, I've heard it was good.

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to be a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a quart of the Johnny Jump Up

After downing the third I went out to the yard
Where I bumped into Brody, the big civic guard
Come here to me boy, don't you know I'm the law?
Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw

He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up
But it wasn't I hit him, 'twas Johnny Jump Up
The next thing I remember down in Cork by the sea
Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me

I'm afraid of me life I'll be hit by a car
Won't you help me across to the Celtic Knot Bar?
After downing a quart of that cider so sweet
He threw down his crutches and danced on his feet

I went up the lee road, a friend for to see
They call it the madhouse in Cork by the Sea
But when I got there, sure the truth I will tell,
They had this poor bugger locked up in a cell

Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can,"Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran
"Tell him I'm not crazy, tell him I'm not mad
It was only a sip of the bottle I had

Well, a man died in the mines by the name of McNabb
They washed him and laid him outside on the slab
And after the parlors measurements did take
His wife brought him home to a bloody fine wake

Twas about 12 o'clock and the beer was high
The corpse sits up and says with a sigh
I can't get to heaven, they won't let me up
Til I bring them a quart of the Johnny Jump Up

So if ever you go down to Cork by the sea
Stay out of the ale house and take it from me
If you want to stay sane don't you dare take a sup
Of that devil drink cider called Johnny Jump Up

Still Life with Pitcher Plants

2009-04-28T20:46:00.003-04:00

Pitcher Plant by SFD

PK took this beautiful photo of a pitcher plant on our foray up into the mountains last week. We hiked up a long trail to a series of bogs and ponds that nestled in a valley between two hulking peaks. While I leaned against a tree and contemplated the way it was both sunny and snowing at the same time, PK waded out into the middle of the bog and discovered a big patch of these vividly colored carnivorous plants. What always amazes me is how the plants that grow together in the wild always complement each other well- not only in function, but aesthetically, both form and color. I love how the moss highlights and echoes the reds in the pitcher plant, and how the whole formation brings to mind an underwater scene, rather than an overwater one. I would have liked to spend some time drawing at the bog, but alas, the snow fell and the wind blew, and we had to move on before our digits solidified.

Inspiration: Aleta Gudelski

2009-04-26T08:35:00.003-04:00

Relections, Lamoile River, Vt by Aleta Gudelski

I love the colors in this piece by Vermont artist Aleta Gudelski. So often I'll be out hiking in the woods and come across a scene like this, where the sunlight hits the water just right, and crisp colors flash across the surfaces of rock, water, and trees. When I paint I struggle with colors -so often they swirl and muddy together until all sensation of light in the painting is lost. But even though she focuses more on the impression of a place than a realistic portrait, Gudelski's work so perfectly captures the moment that I swear I just saw a brook trout diving into the shadowy depths. Check out more of her work here.

nearly there...

2009-04-24T19:17:00.004-04:00

The first asparagus of the season has arrived!

I am very excited that I am a mere few weeks away from a long relaxing summer in which I can finally get back to working on my many artistic projects. I have successfully conquered the job market, and am very happy with where I'll be teaching next year. Hurrah! Two more weeks of frantic papers and grading and my time will be my own again, if only for a little while.

Right now I'm fighting the urge to ignore all my papers and do watercolor paintings of asparagus spears. I may be developing a problematic asparagus obsession...

Another fine day in the mountains...

2009-04-13T19:08:00.002-04:00

I escaped again this past weekend. A few hours of driving and once again I was roaming the hills, though still through knee deep snow. I stumbled across this bog with a view, and had to stop for a moment to admire the deep blue mountain. This was definitely worth having to stay up really late last night to finish grading papers and hem my interview suit...

a little more snowmelt...

2009-04-12T18:58:00.004-04:00

Regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly as my job hunt heads towards a (successful) end and April vacation begins! In the meantime, here's a little photo of a rushing torrent of snow melt from a nearby mountain...

soft spring light

2009-04-05T11:07:00.003-04:00

The other night I came home from work and took a little nap before heading out on the town. It had rained all day, thick sheets of water that blew sideways with the wind, and as I started to drift off I heard the soft rumble of distant thunder, a sure sign of the end of winter. This morning the sun bloomed bright, and the waters stilled. I've thrown open the windows and let the warm spring air come in and freshen everything up-which was badly needed in both the rooms of the house and in my winterstale brain.

Posting has been light here as of late, and will probably be slow for a few more weeks as I wrap up a frenzied job search and an overloaded semester. I've got a few things brewing though, and can't wait to catch up on what everyone else out there has been up to...

sunlit

2009-03-28T10:54:00.003-04:00

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

-Emily Dickinson

hikersong

2009-03-22T18:39:00.010-04:00

We hiked up in the warm air of late afternoon, stripped to our shirtsleeves as the sun slipped down behind the mountain ridge.

As the sky faded slowly into indigo, we arrived at the hut and were greeted by a warm wood stove, a hot cuppa, and the welcoming cheers of old friends. The conversation was laughing, loud and fast, and lasted into the wee hours, long after the coals burned down to wispy ash.

Later, I woke in the night, climbed down from my bunk, and walked out towards the lake. Thousands of stars filled the night sky, and I inhaled the fresh scent of something sharp and clear blowing in on a mountain wind.

In the morning, the mountains reminded us that winter is still very much alive; gusts of snow danced mad pirouettes across the pond as we dashed for cover in the woods.

Now, back at my computer again, I can still feel the brush of soft snow on my eyelids, and hear the calls of mountain ravens clamoring for spring.

Getting the groove back...

2009-03-20T21:45:00.005-04:00

Two years ago this month, PK and I spent a few days exploring the Everglades and Big Cypress Swamp. We had flown down for a wedding, but managed to squeeze all our camping gear into a single suitcase, and sneak a few days off in the wilderness, a place where we are both much more comfortable than when surrounded by fine china and formal wear. There was something mesmerizing about the swamps, and we spent hours following birds through the trees, and sitting on the side of pools, waiting for alligators to surface.

Sometimes they got a little too close- like the one that was, unbeknownst to me, sneaking up behind me while I was busy photographing egrets. Fortunately, Pirate Kings are known for their observation skills and quick wits, and PK let out a yell in time for me to beat a hasty retreat back into the car. We drove that rental down some long, bumpy roads, and left those few brief days feeling energized and more aware of everything around us.

The past few weeks I've been frustrated beyond belief by technological malfunctions that occurred at crucial moments in both my job search and classes. I'm escaping to the woods for a few days to re-charge the batteries. A few friends, a warm hut and the sight of spring creeping into the mountains is just what I need right now. It doesn't need to be someplace as exotic as a Cyprus swamp to re-ignite the creative spark inside of me, just someplace with fresh air, open skies and a few moments of silent contemplation. And perhaps a little possibility of something unexpected happening, right beside me.

flying aerial what?

2009-03-18T18:58:00.001-04:00

A few weeks ago, I took a class in aerial fabric yoga. It was a great way to learn new muscle groups, and I hobbled around for about 3 days afterwards, but since then I've been thinking about how trying something new forces us to experience the uncomfortable. The more I experience that "newness" and overcome the fears and doubts associated with going out on a limb, the more I will become used to it, and will learn to push those boundaries both in my art and my life. I've been busy looking for full-time teaching jobs this week, and am once again experiencing the new and strange, and feeling those uncomfortable twinges and doubts. But now I'm able to more easily push them back down, because I know their dirty tricks...

The picture is of me experiencing "aerial down dog". Woof.

Inspiration: Nanda Currant

2009-03-15T13:12:00.001-04:00

Bluebird, by Nanda Currant

On her website, Gila Valley artist Nanda Currant describes her relationship with drawing like this: "Art allows the chance to be with something very essential when I draw; I move into the act of drawing and quiet."

I can relate to this; I have long thought of drawing as something that brings me inside myself as much as it allows me to connect with the subject I am drawing. She is describing a flow experience, that experience of moving with the subject that you are drawing as if you are in a dance together, as though there is nothing else in the world. It's like falling in love, and those first moments when you see someone and suddenly no one else in the world exists.

Check out the rest of Nanda's work, and some links to her fascinating eco-theatre projects here.

At Last!

2009-03-13T17:18:00.003-04:00

So I woke up on Monday of this week, and all of the sudden it was Friday...I'm not sure about all the craziness in between, because somehow the days and nights just blurred together in a flurry of teaching and writing papers. Today I actually got home while the sun was still shining, and before the BBC came on the radio, and was treated to a surprise-the snowdrops have finally bloomed! This weekend I'll be able to slow myself down a little and catch up on blogging , drawing and other fun stuff...

liquid chaos

2009-03-11T17:48:00.000-04:00

There are no words, only flakes of snow...

2009-03-09T16:35:00.002-04:00

2009-03-08T16:57:00.000-04:00

"Creativity is a central source of meaning in our lives . . . most of the things that are interesting, important, and human are the results of creativity . . . when we are involved in it, we feel that we are living more fully than during the rest of life."

- Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

someone else's shoes

2009-03-08T05:40:00.000-04:00

One of the classes I teach in my day-job as an English Teacher is an experiential literary magazine class. My students divide their time between creating a school-wide literary magazine, and working on their own personal ‘zine. I guide them through the process of developing an idea from a series of goals to a finished product. We spend a lot of time on generating ideas and creative play. We start each class with a transition time, when we all respond to a creative prompt in our journals. I write when they write, and complete all the creative assignments along with them, because I have a strong belief in modeling what I teach.

Last week I brought in a random assortment of shoes. Each student chose a pair of shoes and had to tell the story of the person who owned them. It’s a fun exercise, and a great way to think about how we define ourselves by what we wear and how we present ourselves to the world, which is a very time-consuming activity for the average teenager.

After about fifteen minutes of writing time, we had stories about mutant princesses, bedraggled runaways, rampaging fashionistas, and a whole list of characters truly struggling with what it means to be a human being trying to relate to others in this world. For as much as I may teach them about the technicalities of writing, I feel like I come away the richer for having had the opportunity to share in their creative processes…

evening, snowmelt

2009-03-06T18:28:00.011-05:00

Photo by SFD

Down the street a ways, there is a small parcel of conservation land that PK and I spend a lot of time exploring. It runs along the edge of a tidal river, and there are always geese and ducks seeking shelter from the wilder waters of the bay. We sometimes see rabbits and deer, hawks and owls. Occasionally, a beaver slaps its tail on the surface of the pond when we walk by. It's fairly quiet in the winter, and we don't get to visit as much because the parking is usually blocked in by snowbanks.

But that snow is melting now, and we can finally make our way back. The beavers have been hard at work felling trees for their homes, and birds have left only a few wizzled-up berries on the crabapple trees. Life has gone on as usual in the winter woods, and I can't wait to listen to the burbling runoff and catch up on the latest gossip...

Photo by SFD

snowdrop watch 2009

2009-03-06T18:27:00.001-05:00

Despite the fact that spring has always happened in the past, I'm usually a bit of a skeptic until I see the first flower blooming, especially when we get slammed with so many late season storms like we have this year. Almost there!

oceanside

2009-03-05T07:00:00.000-05:00

It was cold and windy, scarcely the
day to take a walk on that long beach
Everything was withdrawn as far as possible,
indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean
shrunken, seabirds in ones or twos.
The rackety, icy, offshore
wind numbed our faces on one side;
disrupted the formation
of a lone flight of Canada geese;
and blew back the low, inaudible rollers
in upright, steely mist.

- Elizabeth Bishop, The End of March

Intentions: Layered Journal Page 1

2009-03-04T00:50:00.001-05:00

Despite the distractions of snow and schoolwork, I'm making good progress with my layered journal. I'm using the first page as a place to set intentions. The yoga pose is half moon, one I am having difficulty doing without wobbling, and which I am working on improving. I'm thinking about twilight (no, not the vampire books) with this page, and how my memories of evening are related to waking up and feeling alive, not winding down, which connects to the idea of becoming more awake in all aspects of life. I wish the colors would photograph more accurately, because the blues are much more ethereal in person. And, sadly, you can't see the glitter. The margins are filled with words and ideas that relate to what I want to accomplish by creating this journal, and I left space at the top to add in additional thoughts.

pas de deux

2009-03-03T06:42:00.000-05:00

Scene: A small-town library, open windows, pale yellow walls lined with books. A student and his tutor sit at a table. They are surrounded by papers and books. As they begin to study, an older couple, man and woman, enter and sit down in an alcove beside the table.

Tutor: So look through your book and tell me what you think about Othello’s relationship with Desdemona.

The student starts to rifle through the pages. While he does this, the tutor looks around the room and overhears the hushed conversation of the couple in the chairs.

Man: So I’m supposed to be in court at 7 on Thursday. But I won’t go.
Woman: Oh?
Man: I don’t want to push this any further. I’m trying to be fair.

silence

Man: I can meet you for coffee at the store, so you’ll know I’m not there.
Woman: Where we used to eat breakfast?
Man: Yeah, I can meet you at 7. That way you can be sure I’m not pushing things. I’m not going to take him from you.

silence

Student: I don’t think Othello can truly love Desdemona. I mean, he loves her, but nobody can love another person completely. So he loves her, but not enough.

Man: Frank told me you can have the apartment downstairs. I don’t mind. You have to live somewhere.
Woman: I know. All my stuff is scattered everywhere right now. I don’t know where anything is.
Man: Well, you can have that apartment. I’ll call and check. It’s easier for now if you don’t have to move too far.

Tutor: What is your evidence?

Student: Well, he knew she lied to her father, and he is really quick to judge her and think she is a liar. So that isn’t complete love.

Woman: I still think about you every day, you know. How are you doing?
Man: Not too good. But I told them to lift the restraining order.
Woman: I know.

Silence

Woman: You could go see a doctor. If you could just get some medicine I think it would help you a lot.
Man: You know I don’t have insurance right now, so I just can’t go. I don’t think it would help, anyway.
Woman: (softly) It might help.

Student: I just don’t think people are capable of loving other people completely. You never really know what is going on in someone else’s mind, so how could Othello trust her?

The woman walks across the room and presses her head against the window glass. The man makes a phone call, then softly calls her back. They exit, together.

a room of one's own with a view...

2009-03-02T08:59:00.003-05:00

The view from my study right now

This morning a Nor'easter is roaring down on us, and will leave about a foot of snow by the end of the day, burying all the little snowdrops and daffodils that were starting to poke up through the soil. Normally I'd be really annoyed at the large amounts of shoveling awaiting me and PK, but right now the snow is falling quietly and surrounding the house with a peaceful hush. It's a good day to write.

adding layers

2009-03-01T11:10:00.010-05:00

pages 2 and 3 of my layered journal

This weekend I started experimenting with layered journals. I've been stumbling across all kinds of sites on the web with pictures of people's journals in process. Some of these have a very specific set of instructions for people to follow to create their own journals,such as Caspiana, but many are just fascinating collections of individual works. I'm not much of a direction-follower, myself, and I'd rather assemble my own prompts, so instead of starting at the beginning of a series I decided to make my book non-linear and to spend the weekend setting up the pages. I collected text from books I love, such as Paul Bowles The Sheltering Sky, Thoreau's Walden, and old dictionaries. I cut images from magazines I subscribe to. I printed out copies of photos I have taken. I collected materials from the little piles of "stuff" I like to collect on walks. I started pasting these into my journal without thinking so much about what order they go in, and only minimal attention to layout. I mixed up the clippings from the books so there is no linear relationship to the scraps of text. I left pages in between the inclusions, and lots of empty space for things to be added later on. I gessoed over the text with a thin layer of white, paving the way for the variety of mediums to be used in future layers.

The idea is that over the next few months I'll focus on an idea or a question and find a page in the journal that seems to correspond with it. Then, I'll add layers of writing, painting and additional collage. I think this kind of excercise works best with a specific focus, in the same way the commonplace books explore a single idea or book, and I'll be working on developing that focus over the next week. Right now I'm thinking about using the journal to expand my thoughts on my developing yoga practice and its influence on my creativity.

This was the perfect exercise for me this weekend, because I was able to work on it in small bursts between writing papers and curriculum, and then was forced to stop for long periods because of the gesso drying time, so I was actually able to get schoolwork done, instead of being consumed by the project. It's a sort of forced balance, which is good for me right now...

outgoing tides

2009-02-27T19:51:00.003-05:00

Lately I've been starting each project with a few moments of tidal breathing and visualization. I close my eyes, and take deep, slow breaths. I visualize the air, moving in and out of my body, my chest rising and falling, like waves flowing on and off the sand. All the excess thoughts rush away from me, the way the thin rivulets of water race away from the shore, chasing a retreating wave. With each breath, the distractions of the job hunt and schoolwork and all the other projects I am thinking about flow away from me. After a few moments, I can open my eyes to the one idea in front of me and give it my undivided attention. Like the tides, I know the chaos will be back again, but for those few moments, I am present...

Inspiration: John Bisbee

2009-02-27T15:14:00.002-05:00

Slack, by John Bisbee 1 ton of welded 12 inch spikes

About a year ago, I went to an exhibition of sculptures by Maine artist John Bisbee at the Portland Museum of Art. Bisbee uses metal, often 12 inch railroad spikes, to create delicate naturalistic forms. I love his works, particularly the ones that resemble bird nests. His work is gigantic in scope- I can only imagine how long it takes to dismantle and re-install some of these incredibly heavy pieces every time he moves to a new exhibit space. His figures seem to fly and crawl up the walls; it is never exactly clear, however, if the forms are birds, or if they are some unknown creature born from the metal itself. I look at some of his works and imagine that he is creating on a macro scale something that mimics the microscopic.

Plume, by John Bisbee

There's a great article on John Bisbee and his creative process in the Bowdoin Magazine.

Poetic Interlude: "The Lilt o' the Year"

2009-02-26T07:37:00.001-05:00

"A melancholy mantle rests
Upon the land; the sea.
The wind in tristful cadence moans
A mournful threnody.
There flits no gleeful insect,
No blithesome bee nor bird;
0'er all the vast of Nature
No joyful sound is heard.
In garments sere and somber
Each, vine and tree is clad:
It's dreary-hearted winter,
And all the earth is sad."

- Hazel Dell Crandall, The Lilt o' the Year

Folkloric

2009-02-25T14:55:00.003-05:00

I’ve had an interest in folk music ever since I was in high school, when I stole all of my mother’s records from the sixties and sat for hours up in my room, guitar in hand, trying to pick up Pete Seeger’s banjo rhythms, or learning old Childe Ballads from Joan Baez. My romance with the guitar has been hot and cold—I can play a passable finger style tune, played with an impromptu bluegrass band called Rabid Rooster for a while, and even spent some time studying musicology during my first grad-school foray into anthropology. But like so many other things, that music got lost somewhere down in between the cracks of my life.

A few years ago, however, I found my way back. My father had started learning to play the bagpipe in his 50s, and watching his joy at learning a new instrument inspired me to follow something that had always been a dream of my own: Scottish and Cape Breton style fiddling. I bought a cheap fiddle, took a few lessons, practiced like crazy, and spent a lot of time listening to old fiddle tunes, trying to absorb the feel of the music into my spirit. Some days, it feels like the fiddle is an extension of my body. I play the music without thinking, and it just flows from me like I am an unconscious conduit. Some days, not so much. But every time I listen to a recording of some old-timer playing the tunes in a pub somewhere in the wilds of Scotland, I get chills.

So I can understand the drive the members of The Field Recorder Collective, a network of folk music collectors, many of whom have spent years combing the backwoods of America, looking for the hidden gems of traditional music, much of which is derived from the old Celtic tunes. I’m so glad there is a movement to save these recordings and bring this music back out into the public domain, before it is forgotten.

Check out their recording of ‘The Highlander’s Farewell’, from The Renegades here.

blue period

2009-02-24T09:45:00.001-05:00

I keep painting versions of this wintry scene, some large, some small, and I even did one with spruce for our Xmas card this year. Sometimes I find that I just have to work through an idea before I can move on to bigger and better things. I've been in a mood to be monochromatic for a while...but lately I've been thinking about layers, and find myself drawn to artists who are producing collages, and layered journals and other multi-media pieces. If I wanted to get all deep and philosophical about it, I would say that this probably represents how my life has become so chaotic and multi-layered, and that naturally those life-characteristics would be reflected in my creative work. Who knows. It could just be that I'm yearning for colors and textures after the empty white pages of winter. I won't really have a big chunk of time to break things out until the weekend, but I'm thinking of doing some paper and fabric work, maybe layered with paints and wax...hmmm...and maybe some bookmaking...

snow, again

2009-02-23T07:58:00.002-05:00

One of the hard truths about living in New England is that Spring never comes in soft and steady. Just yesterday I was rejoicing at the sight of little snowdrops peeking through the soil; today, we are smothered in snow. But, I have a snow day from school, and some unexpected free time...so there is the silver (icy) lining.

shrimpin' season

2009-02-23T04:56:00.000-05:00

Photo by SFD

Lately my creativity has taken interesting forms. We’ve been renovating the bathroom, and everything from bathroom (including the sink and toilet) has been mashed into my study. I couldn’t get to my paints right now if I tried. Instead, I’ve been rubbing grout into tiles, and smoothing the ragged edges of the old 1810 boards that form our walls. I’ve been approaching the monotony of renovation with an attitude of calm- grouting has turned out to be very meditative in that respect.

Today we finally put the toilet back in, and have reached a point where we can focus on other things besides finishing key stages of construction. PK went down to the beach and bought 50 pounds of native shrimp from a local fisherman. We just finished our last bag of shrimp last week, so the timing of the new harvest is impeccable. PK is cleaning and prepping them for the freezer, and I’m cooking the shells and heads into a shrimp stock that I’ll use for bouillabaisse and chowders over the next few weeks. I’m winging it with the recipe, and right now the air is thick with the smells of simmering shrimp, garlic and wine. Soon both broth and shrimp will be safely tucked into the freezer, and we’ll settle in to a quiet evening of listening to the frozen rain beat against the windows.

Photo by SFD

PK stopped by the beach with the pup before picking up the shrimp...he took these photos before the rain started...

Spring is icumen in

2009-02-22T14:34:00.002-05:00

Despite all evidence to the contrary, the first signs of spring have appeared in the form of little snowdrop shoots! Even though I had to run out and take this picture as the snow and freezing rain were starting to fall, I'm optimistic that garden season is not too far off...

impressions, wind

2009-02-21T03:01:00.000-05:00

The wind was blowing hard and jostling my camera when I tried to take a picture of this abandoned light-keeper's house. Somehow, the blurred lines of the bushes and the edges of the building give it a ghostly feel, one that is compounded by the empty black holes where the windows should be. This building does have some vague ghost stories attached to it- footsteps heard in the upper stairway, ghostly drafts of cold air whistling down the hall, but nothing particularly well-defined in local legend. It's easy to imagine it, even on a warm, sunny springish day.

In Search of...Manabu and Kinue Kamioka

2009-02-20T08:05:00.000-05:00

About ten years ago I was wandering around Japan when I saw some postcards of these driftwood figures in a shop down a narrow street in a suburb of Tokyo. I couldn't resist picking up a few, and since then I've tried to find more information about the artists, with little sucess. On the back of the postcard there is a poem in Japanese, and the object/poem are credited to Kamioka Manabu, with the photo credit given to Kamioka Kinue. From what little I've found, they are a husband and wife team, and also appear to have published a children's book.

But that's all. No more information, except in Japanese, which unfortunately I don't speak. Except to say things like "Hello, it is humid," which isn't really helpful to my search. But there is something in these driftwood sculptures that moves me, something that keeps making me pull my album off the shelf every now and then and wonder a little more about the stories behind them. I am forced to make up my own poems and stories, since I can't read the originals. For some of the figures, the stories are sad, and I can hear the plaintive sounds of a whispery japanese flute playing in the background of my mind when I look at them. For some, the stories sing like small birds as they beat their wings, fluttering my heart.

I have managed to find a few museums with online displays of their work, but none with English translations of the poetry; one gallery can be found here.

Tuvan Throat Singing

2009-02-19T12:37:00.002-05:00

I love stumbling across field recordings like this--I worry sometimes about how quickly cultures and traditions are disappearing from the world, and love spending time poking through the archives, making a performance live again for a few moments. This throat singing is providing a nice backdrop to my cold New England morning today...

A Walk Along the Shore

2009-02-19T02:40:00.001-05:00

Since it's vacation and the last warm day before winter starts its comeback tour, my mother and I went for a walk along the shore. The sun was bright, the water blue, and if I squinted hard enough to blot out the details, I could imagine that the bank of snow was fine white sand, and there was just enough time for a quick swim before the burgers were done cooking on the grill.

The distant land beckoned to me, and I started dreaming of kayak trips, and waking up in the clear morning light of the islands. A few more months and I'll be able to dip paddle into surf, and push off into blue water. I do some of my best thinking both on and about the islands...this year I'm hoping to make more time for lazy days spent lying on the sand drawing pictures of shells and thinking about the big questions of the universe.

faces in stone

2009-02-18T09:41:00.003-05:00

In certain parts of the woods, PK and I always find faces in the stones. Like when we watch clouds form shapes in the sky, we see boulder frogs, gnome-like rocks clustered beside mossy tree stumps, and cliff faces covered with natural murals. Whole scenes play out in the way the light hits the folds of rocks crumpled by glaciers many thousands of years ago. I'm really interested in why the human brain needs to create logical shapes from natural chaos-whole monuments, like the Old Man on the Mountain in NH, are revered because of a slight familiarity in form. When they crumble and lose that shape, we mourn. I wonder if this comes from some ancient evolutionary need to find predators in the bushes, to look for the lion hiding in the trees just beyond the ring of firelight.

However it came about, it's a wonderful thing to use that imaginative drive and turn it to story. Sometimes PK and I will stop and imagine the tale behind a certain rock-figure. We'll whisper the spell used to turn a troll to stone, or talk of the creatures coming alive as soon as we pass, following us on our journey, always changing back to rock as soon as we turn towards them. Or we'll wonder how long a giant has lain there, unable to move, waiting for the world to become magical again. Sometimes, we can almost hear him sighing in his sleep.

heartsease

2009-02-17T14:29:00.004-05:00

It's been just warm enough the last week or so that the frozen blood in my veins has started to thaw out and flow again. I'm itching for spring and flowers and sunshine, but the forecast says snow for the next few days. Cruel winter, you still have us in your grasp...

feet felts

2009-02-13T06:14:00.001-05:00

Feet Felts , Dartmoor England by Yuli Somme

After being inspired by her own walking experiences and the folklore of felting, British fabric artist Yuli Somme wrapped the feet of forty volunteers in wool and sent them for a walk. When they returned from their journeys, the wool had felted, resulting in these foot-shaped forms. Yuri staked the feet felts to the ground in order to let this natural installation disintegrate back into the earth as a statement about sustainable action.

Sometimes I find these kinds of artistic performances a little confusing and not always something I am able to take seriously. But in this case, there is something spooky and strangely moving about this line of feet felts slowly sinking back into the earth, and I can appreciate both her actions and her message. I really like her other felts as well, which can be seen here in her gallery

thinking at high frequencies

2009-02-11T21:13:00.002-05:00

This is one of those weeks where everything seems to be moving a bit too fast...I feel as though I am in one of those films where the speed has been accelerated and life passes in one jerky millisecond after another. One moment I'm at school, then home, then it's dark, then everything begins again. Last night I had that dream where I am at work and it's just a normal day that passes in normal time (though the fact PK was in my classroom trying to get me to sneak out to a golf course, should have been a pretty obvious dream-message, even though I hate golfing), and woke up feeling as though I had just finished a busy day of teaching.

I stop every now and then and try to center myself, but my focus doesn't hold, and even my skin feels like it is vibrating with urgency. There has been no time for anything but work, and numerous deadlines that are approaching quickly. I know that things will calm down by the weekend, when I can take the time to relax and refocus, but in the meantime I am moving even when I am sitting still, and desperately trying to grasp onto a single moment of peace and clarity.

Eclipse

2009-02-10T11:37:00.001-05:00

This is not from yesterday's eclipse, which occurred during the morning, but from a few years ago. I love to watch eclipses, both lunar and solar, and remember one particularly amazing morning I spent on a grassy hill near my college, waiting as the sun gradually diminished. The light was incredibly eerie; not the gray light of evening, or the flatness of a cloudy day, but strange and beautiful, with depth to it. It seemed as though the air itself was buzzing. As the eclipse neared totality, a groundhog came out from a nearby hole and ran frantically around me. I have always wondered what that groundhog thought at that moment when the sun seemed to disappear.

Yoga and Creativity

2009-02-09T13:11:00.002-05:00

Upala Yoga Balanced Stone Sculpture by Shane Hart

I'm becoming more and more interested in the links between my yoga practice and my creative energies. I'm finding that taking the time to do a short meditation, or beginning my day with a series of sun salutations helps me achieve greater focus, which in turn helps me to clarify my thoughts about projects for both work and play. In a few weeks I'll begin working on a yoga teacher certification program that will allow me to teach yoga for children, and so far I'm excited at the emphasis that the class readings place on stimulating creative thought with kids.

I want to write some more about these links in the next few weeks, and have stumbled across a number of resources devoted to the bridges between mindfulness and creativity. For now, I want to draw attention to the stone sculptures of Shane Hart, a west coast artist who developed Upala Yoga from his combination of meditation and stone sculpture. He creates these ephemeral sculptures from the stones along the shores of Washington State, and often spends many hours meditating and building his works, only to dismantle them at the end of the process. The sculptures developed from his practice of spending as many as twelve hours at a time focused on the concept of balance, and meditating on the physical presence of the stones. That the art developed as a result of these meditations fascinates me, and though it might not fit the mainstream definition of art, I find his devotion to his craft incredibly appealing. More of his work can be found here.

Upala Yoga Balanced Stone Sculpture by Shane Hart

Literacy and The Commonplace Book

2009-02-08T10:48:00.001-05:00

Last year I took a really interesting class in literacy instruction that focused on alternative ways kids can enter and experience literature. During the class, we each explored how to use a commonplace book as a method for gaining a deeper understanding of a novel. Commonplace books have long been used as a way for a person to gather information and thoughts about a single topic. Thomas Jefferson kept many such books as a way to organize his study of everything from archaeology to politics and finances. In a literacy commonplace book, students make connections between what happens in the novel and the real world. They gather evidence that helps them identify patterns, and link the novel to deeper concepts. Sometimes a commonplace book holds artistic responses to the work, and helps students create a relationship between what they have read and how they feel about it.

I worked with Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses, a quiet novel about life in WWII Norway. I didn't like the book at first. It is a very meditative and contemplative book, and I like a little more action to drive a storyline. However, as I explored the novel through free-associative art projects, I learned to recognize and understand the tensions caused by the secrecy and need that underlie the plot.

I started by creating a collage of things I associated with Norway. I was drawn to ancient Viking images, and felt compelled to contrast the war-like Vikings of old with the soldiers who fought the Nazis. I layered tissue-paper soaked with glue over the ancient images as a way of conveying how they were images from the past, seen through a veil.

I brought together Old Germanic epic poetry about fathers and sons, and linked it to the father-son relationships in the book. Disappointment, secrecy, lies-these were the patterns that emerged.

I played with quick watercolor reactions to the story. Everything was shrouded in mist, in secrecy. Even the mountains of Norway weren't able to emerge from the thickening fogs.

I made a soundtrack of haunting, lyrical music that was written in the concentration camps. In a presentation for the class, I blended it with images of travel posters for Norway--the country itself was trying to hide the tragedy of the war from the rest of the world. Secrets layered on secrets. As my reflection below states, I ended up in a very different place then when I started reading the book, and an appreciation for the quiet strength of a novel that I might earlier have placed back on the shelf without thinking about it again.

These are only a few pages from the work I did that semester; the rest are other side explorations. The experience of immersing myself in the investigation of a novel was powerful. This year, I am doing a group commonplace book with my students as we read The Crucible and study the way that drama is used to interpret historical events according to a certain bias. I'm curious to see what memories and connections they build as they participate in this kind of subtle and sometimes subconscious exploration.

Frozen

2009-02-07T10:56:00.002-05:00

You will know it is winter/ by the way your dreams /tremble like stones /when the wind comes/ through

-Lance Henson, Cheyenne

Photos by PK

Turtle Interlude

2009-02-04T05:06:00.002-05:00

A few years ago I attended a conservation event in a dusty school auditorium, and found myself face to face with MacArthur Grant winner David Carroll. He was dressed in faded khaki, a headband tied about his brow, looking like he had just stumbled in from the fields. This was pre-genius award, but despite the lack of official sanction, it was clear from his presentation that David Carroll is a man possessed by his work. His impassioned speech for saving turtle environments was intensely moving, and his flair for storytelling created a magical environment inside that old school. I love his illustrations, like the above image of a painted turtle from his notebooks, and was excited when a friend gave me one a few holidays ago. I particularly like to look at my spotted salamander drawing and think of him in early spring, when he wanders the backwoods and bogs of New Hampshire, watching for the first turtle to peek its nose out into the warming air.

More of his work can be found here.

Goals, Part One

2009-02-03T08:37:00.000-05:00

I love to make lists of goals. In fact, sometimes I'm better at making lists of things that I should be doing then actually doing them. As anyone who has seen my study knows, I am not a naturally organized person. I have to really work to transform the chaos that crowds around me into some sort of workable state. But I have a pretty good track record of meeting goals when I put them into lists. I usually start with what I'm doing, and then work into what I want to do, like what follows. Each of those things has its own goals list, but I'll spare you that and focus on the creative stuff.

What I'm doing now:

1) Full time teaching internship
2)Part-time tutoring job
3)2 graduate classes (w/ lots of homework!)
4)Working on research for my M.Ed. Thesis (library research and field interviews)
5)Trying to get certified to teach yoga to kids
6)Job hunting for teaching positions for summer and next school year

As you can imagine, there isn't a whole of free time in there. Some days I get up at 5am and leave the house, only to return at 10:30pm, and the only time I wasn't working was when I was driving from point A to point B. So I'm trying to figure out how to fit my creative aspirations into the little spare time that I have.

I am fortunate that many of the above activities are creative in themselves, and allow me the chance to appreciate the world around me. Example: when my students write in their journals, I join them. Some days I have 2 or three chances to give my brain a little break in the day and a chance to roam free for 15 or 20 minutes-fun!

A lot of my creative goals have a delayed start date of May, since at that point my workload will (hopefully) decrease a little and give me some wiggle room in my schedule. The rest of the work on my goals will be squeezed into stolen moments during weekends and breaks, or focus on transforming my activities 'within' my crazy days. Here's part one of my list, with more to follow in the next few days:

1) Keep blogging- I've had some really exciting conversations with folks as a result of some posts-please feel free to join in! I also have a re-design in mind, and hopefully will get a chance to work on it in the next few months.

2) Unplugged Art Night- Despite it's rocky beginnings, this is still on the plate. PK and I would like to take it outside when things thaw out and have some more evenings on the coast with our paints. We managed to do this with photos a few times last year, and it was a nicely productive exercise.

3)Submit some pieces to a local art show that benefits local conservation work (and is an appropriate venue for my stuff). Fortunately the deadline for the show I have in mind is in September, so I have some time to work on new pieces. I'm hoping PK joins in on this with some of his photos--I only post seconds of his work on this site since he has his own etsy shop, but his photos are coming along nicely and would be a great addition to the show.

More goals to come...

Blogiversary!

2009-02-02T05:55:00.004-05:00

I once told myself that I would get a tattoo if I could choose a design and remain as in love with it after one year as when I first selected it. I had a vague idea of something combining Sanskrit and Celtic knot work, and I even had the tattoo guy picked out- a friend of mine with a remarkably steady hand, and whose art I would have been honored to showcase on my body. I almost made it, but even after I thought I had a design that represented who I was, I couldn’t figure out where it should go. After a while, a funny thing happened; I started to change, and my design ideas changed along with me. I never made it past the one-year mark, that magical length of time that seemed to symbolize permanence to me. And so my skin is still naked, marked only by years.

I still acknowledge milestones. Five years with P.K. Two years in the house. One year left of school. As I garden more, I find myself aligning my behaviors and my diet with the seasons, tapping in to the annual cycles around us. However, permanence means something different to me now. It’s not so much an unchanging expression, like a tattoo, but the idea that I now identify with beliefs that have room to grow along with me. A year is a measure of a different kind-not a static milepost, but something much more malleable. Winter returns each year, but every winter is changed from the one before.

And so I met one of my hopes for this blog—I managed to maintain (mostly) regular posting for a whole year. Hooray! And instead of slowing down and losing interest, I’ve begun to get excited about new ways to keep things going over here at aestheticflow. It's becoming something that grows with me, instead of a static conversation. I started blogging as a way to talk out loud to myself about my attempts to become a more creative, mindful person, and to start putting those thoughts out into the universe. But now the universe is starting to talk back, and I’m hoping to expand the conversation and see where it takes me…

In fairy tales the time of testing is always a year and a day. Today is that extra day, the 366th, in which the test is won, and the heroine revels in success, at least for the moment. Tomorrow I’m planning to post some creative goals for the next year; today, I’m just living it.

From the Vault: Old Yankee #1

2009-01-31T05:00:00.000-05:00

I don't usually like to paint people- I'm much more interested in capturing the colors of landscapes, or in creating intimate drawings of shells and sticks and other little nature-y things. But I went through a short phase where I tried a few portraits; most were fairly unsuccessful, in part because I was trying to paint people I knew and loved. I think that when we know people really well we add things to their characters that isn't always visible. This is why someone who might have seemed plain when we first meet them becomes beautiful as we learn what's on the inside as well as the outside. The whole weight of our history with the individual bears down on how we perceive them, and when it comes to depicting them in simple shadow and light I find I never can capture the essence of the person. I'm off just enough that one small change to a feature, or wrong expression, renders the whole portrait dead and lifeless. So I tried to paint this old Yankee from a photo...I was able to discover his personality in the same way I discover that of a character in one of my fiction pieces-gradually and with no preconceived notions.

Sadly, I have to keep him in a box in the corner, because I don't like the way he looks at me... kind of creeps me out.

Unplugged Art Night Update

2009-01-30T11:20:00.001-05:00

Well, a few weeks ago I announced my intention of devoting one night a week to turning off all electronics and focusing on doing art. So far, it's been a complete disaster. It's funny, I always put some stake in the idea that if you voiced your intentions out loud and to a lot of people, you would start to turn your idea into a reality. There is usually something about declaring intent that seems to give it momentum, and ultimately helps me stick to a goal better.

Not this time though. I've had good intentions to start working on some paintings, but each time Friday rolled around there were unexpected interruptions- almost in-laws dropping by unexpectedly, power failures, mandatory family gatherings--all things that I COULD have said, "Nope, get out, can't do it," but not without serious social repercussions. Sigh. I chose to go with the flow this time, rather than make unnecessary waves.

And so, Unplugged Art Night is still on the plans, but as yet remains an unrealized dream...

imagine a rush of poems, like a surging river in spring

2009-01-29T11:36:00.003-05:00

"Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer."- Plutarch, Moralia

'What it Is'...my new favorite teaching book is what it is

2009-01-28T11:10:00.002-05:00

This is a page from cartoonist Lynda Barry's new book What It Is. I fell in love with the collages in this book, each of which is focused around an idea for a writing exercise. The book itself is equal parts graphic novel, memoir and writing workbook; I love the way it approaches writing in a non-linear and creative manner.

I used one of her exercises in a creative writing class the other day, and asked the kids to journal on her page "what and where is your imagination?" The page itself is full of images, words and sub-thoughts, all colorfully crashing into each other. At first, it seemed to overwhelm some of the students, most of whom were used to more direct prompts-some needed a little guidance to figure out what they were "supposed" to write about. But I think her books include the kind of exercises where you look at her images and each time find something new to think about. You can repeat her prompt, and find yourself answering a different question.

I'm trying to push the edges of what these kids are used to encountering in a creative writing class, and I like using her book as a jumping off point. Like all things, creativity takes practice, and I think the kids will get there...

More info on Lynda Barry can be found here.

From the Vault: Balboa Park Gardens, San Diego

2009-01-24T13:55:00.003-05:00

Lilies and Carp

PK and I spent a few weeks in San Diego this summer, and spent hours wandering around the many gardens in Balboa Park. The light was usually too bright for good color photos, so I spent most of my time doing little sketches and just absorbing the calm atmosphere of the Japanese garden and the gigantic botanical building while PK chased after hummingbirds with his camera. There were so many different shapes and textures to enjoy-all piled on top of one another, shaded and merging with other plants, people and the flocks of wild birds. My tendency in big public places like this is to seek a quiet corner and create my own sense of solitude and wilderness. These photos were taken in some of those nooks.

Cactus Garden

they fall into the sea, eventually

2009-01-21T19:47:00.002-05:00

Temporary Art Installment #1, by PK

From the Vault: Imagined Trout

2009-01-20T21:22:00.003-05:00

This was a quick watercolor sketch I did a few years ago- since then it has been clipped to an unused easel in the corner of our study. I messed around with the colors a bit- I'm not sure any real trout looks like this. When I draw or paint I tend to be over-meticulous, and spend far too much time trying to achieve a realism that is all to often elusive. I like this trout because it swims in the face of that reality, and reminds me to try more quick sketching, and to let my brush wander around without always listening to my hyperactive inner-critic. Maybe I'll paint the next trout in fuschia and blue. That'll give my inner critic something to talk about...

Inspiration: Adelaide Tyrol

2009-01-19T09:53:00.003-05:00

Splice by Adelaide Tyrol

Vermont painter Adelaide Tyrol stuns me with the way she uses vibrant colors to paint intimate portraits of birds, insects and plants. There is a spark of life to her work that makes me think of Chris Augusta's pastels, something that just lights up within the piece and stops me cold- that makes me expect to see the creatures lift up out of their technicolor universes and burst up into the sky. Tyrol deviates from the technical perfections of scientific illustration and instead captures the soul of the organism in such a way that it's individual personality and expression pour off the page. I love it.

More of her work can be found here: http://adelaidetyrol.com/recentindex.html

Young Rook by Adelaide Tyrol

Andrew Wyeth, 1917-2009

2009-01-16T17:14:00.007-05:00

I love to wander into the Maine Room at the Portland Museum of Art, mostly because of the work of both Andrew and NC Wyeth. My favorite painting, Raven's Grove depicts a cache of broken shells beneath a spruce tree, with just a glimpse of the sea's edge in the distance. It so elegantly captures the small details of wild life on the Maine islands, much more so than the typical beauty shot painting of the coastline. There is an intimate feel to it, and a sense of an artist comfortable in his own surroundings, and the darkness within those places. The following quote from Wyeth has been much-used in his memorials, but so clearly describes his attraction to the bones of the world...

"I do an awful lot of thinking and dreaming about things in the past and the future — the timelessness of the rocks and the hills — all the people who have existed there," he once said. "I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure in the landscape — the loneliness of it — the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.

''I think anything like that -- which is contemplative, silent, shows a person alone -- people always feel is sad. Is it because we've lost the art of being alone?''

Andrew Wyeth was reclusive, I certainly never met him outside of his paintings. But he will be missed, here in New England, and I wish him peace. More of his work can be viewed here: http://www.andrewwyeth.com/index.html

Unplugged Art Night

2009-01-16T11:27:00.004-05:00

For a few years, PK and I hosted a monthly gathering we creatively called "Art Night", in which a few folks came over to our house and worked on art projects. I loved the atmosphere of the evenings, where we would often have a pot of soup on the stove, and folks could share where they were with their art, and spend time working on projects. We have some extremely talented friends, and many of them have side hobbies that involve creative activities such as fly tying, paper cutting, and a variety of mixed media work. Art Night fell apart though, when it's open-invite format resulted in many folks coming over just to socialize, but not to work on projects. Now, don't get me wrong, the socializing was great- interesting people=interesting conversations=a good time - but it didn't match our original goal of developing a working group designed around sharing creative energy. But I miss Art Night, mostly because it was a way to make me focus on work and ignore the many temptations of our multi-media home.

So here is our experiment for 2009:

PK and I are hoping to unplug ourselves from our various technology for one night a week, during which we'll focus on our art projects. No reading, no internet, no T.V., just art projects. It's not an original idea; many other folks are doing unplugged nights, and I know that we'll have to work around weeks when we are travelling, and other intrusions, but for the immediate future, Friday night is Unplugged Art Night around here. Hopefully we'll eventually open the house back up to our old group from time to time, but for now, it's just the two of us and a palette of paint. Updates to follow...

snowdust

2009-01-16T06:00:00.001-05:00

This past weekend PK and I went on a road trip to Vermont's Northeast Kingdom with a bunch of friends. It was a fantastic weekend of great skiing, food, conversation and general laughter and fun. I skied across old maple sugar plantations, over hills filled with mysterious spruce, and through fields that were once orchards, now scattered with twisted, decaying fruit trees. The snow fell all weekend, in fine waves of powder that squeaked beneath our feet.

Most of the time it was well below zero and too cold to take the camera out into the woods, but I managed to get this photo on our last day, a few minutes before we climbed back in the car for the long drive back to real-life obligations.

Inspiration: Jeanie Tomanek

2009-01-15T06:00:00.002-05:00

Night Journey by Jeanie Tomanek

The wind is howling outside the house right now, and a deep cold has settled in on our small town. Late last night I took the dog out, and stood there staring up into the dark, cold sky, until my eyes watered from the chill. I've been thinking a lot about cycles lately, and the ways in which we connect to the earth around us--mythic thoughts, about the patterns that we humans repeat regardless of circumstances. I originally stumbled across Jeanie Tomanek's work on a mythic arts website, and these paintings so wonderfully convey that sense of timelessness. I love her luminous figures that move in and out of darkness, and the mythic images that appear and re-appear in her works. I'm also intrigued by her process, in which she uses mixed media to create layers that she then scratches through for different effects. Her website has a great selection of pieces, and she definitely goes on the list of people I would buy art from if I had any money.

You can see more of her work here: http://www.jeanietomanek.com/gallery.htm

Evening by Jeanie Tomanek

cold, descending

2009-01-14T19:44:00.000-05:00

"The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with snow. And the storm is fast descending, And yet I cannot go. Clouds beyond clouds above me, Wastes beyond wastes below; But nothing dear can move me; I will not, cannot go."

- Emily Bronte, Spellbound

From the Vault 2

2009-01-14T05:32:00.001-05:00

Illumination at the Rock of Cashel, Co. Tipperary, Ireland

From the Vault

2009-01-13T06:18:00.003-05:00

I've been on break from school the last few weeks, and have been using my free time to start a lot of different projects, but not to actually finish them. One of these over-optimistic projects is to dig through all the piles of stuff in my study and try to beat it into some sort of order before the chaos of the new semester begins. I keep coming across old pieces of art- paintings, photos, poems and the like, and am going to post a few while I work on that whole "finished product" thing. Since yet more snow is falling, here is a little memory of summer. I photographed these barnacles at sunset while PK and I were paddling on the coast of Maine.

soaking beans

2009-01-12T10:21:00.003-05:00

I took this photo while I was making some chili for friends, and it stands as an example of how there are moments in life that simply cannot be captured. I was washing the beans when I was struck by the colors, the textures, the way the light glinted off the wet, beany surfaces- so of course, I ran for the camera while my friends watched and wondered if I was going to come back and finish making dinner. Sadly, the final product doesn't come close to the live version. So once again, I'm coming to terms with this idea that the product isn't living up to my expectations. So now I have to approach this moment with a positive outlook and say 'hey, this picture kinda stinks, but gosh, those beans sure were pretty.' And then go read the instructions for how to use the macro lens.

What I miss most in winter...

2009-01-08T08:28:00.005-05:00

The moments I love the most in gardening happen early in the year, when tiny plants push up through the soil, offering the promise of delicious meals with friends and family. I love to work this early garden - before the bugs come crawling, before mildew and drought ravage the leaves, before weeds and slugs do their worst. This is the garden of hope, and the dirt beneath my fingernails smells sweet.

Photos by SFD

Spirals

2009-01-07T19:19:00.006-05:00

Snow Heart Spiral, by Stu Jenks

I was playing around on the web and looking for some inspiration, when I stumbled across these surreal works by Stu Jenks, a musician and photographer working out in Tucson, Arizona. His photos are vivid dreamscapes that practically demand a tribal drum track accompaniment. As someone who is intensely interested in the artistic process of others, I especially like his website, where he often pairs his images with stories behind how they came to be. Check them out at http://www.stujenks.com, and make sure to look for the links to his “Circle Stories.”

Owl's Head, by Stu Jenks

om moment

2009-01-06T12:44:00.002-05:00

My yoga class usually opens with a few moments of meditation, where we set the intention for our practice, and end with a group chant of Om. Today, as the group breathed out and voiced that single, resonant syllable, a train blew its horn as it passed through our town. The sound of the horn harmonized with our voices, and ended at the exact moment we finished exhaling.

Beautiful.

a nice little bedtime story

2009-01-05T22:32:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, I lived in a tiny little town on the edge of a river surrounded by lonely abandoned mill buildings. My own apartment should have been abandoned, as the very ceilings were crumbling away, and the back steps were slowly sinking into the ground. For years, the only life on the streets were people stumbling out of their apartments to smoke cigarettes and swear at their neighbors for parking in the wrong spot. Then, things began to change. I started seeing artists hanging out on the corners, paintbrushes in hand, drawing the very buildings that had been only thought about as eyesores the day before. The abandoned mill buildings began to fill up with artist studios. Someone planted flowers along the streets. A lovely little coffee shop opened up just steps from my door. The whole neighborhood began to pulse, to breath a little. I could feel the pavement expand beneath my feet every time I walked outside my door.

And then I moved.

While I love the place where I am living now, and wouldn’t trade being with PK in our little nest for anything, it’s like I fell asleep on the couch just before the really funny thing happened at the party that everyone will be talking about for months. Typical.

There’s no end to this little tale, just the hope that my little old neighborhood is rolling along and building up artistic steam. Maybe I’ll stop by for a cup of coffee sometime soon and see how things are coming along.

wintermoon

2009-01-04T16:49:00.003-05:00

Evening-the only sounds the heavy breath of the dog and the swish-swish of skis on days-old snow, the occasional call of a chickadee about to settle in for the night. The edge of a field, studded with gnarled, arthritic fruit trees, picked clean of fruit by winds and wild. A fattening moon, climbing up from behind the treeline, escaping from the twisted cage of branches to shine in the clear night sky, if only for a few hours, before sinking once more, below the trees, below the bay, below the corners of the earth, to sleep again .

Still life with bread

2008-12-29T06:00:00.002-05:00

Fresh from the oven...

people are just dying to be on my xmas list

2008-12-28T16:57:00.008-05:00

A few years ago, PK and I were hiking along a fairly long and difficult ridge in the White Mountains. It was August, sweltering hot, and we weren't making anywhere near the miles per day that we needed to in order to make it to our next camping spot. We ended up spending the first night of the trip on the worst tent site I have ever slept on. I've been in some nasty areas with my little tent, but never had to sleep crammed between pointed, broken tree stumps before. Anyway, the next day we were hot, tired and fast approaching cranky when we passed through a rather large bog at the base of a steep mountain climb. We were loitering about, neither of us rushing toward what we knew would be a brutal climb, when we noticed the strange little flowers poking out of the weeds along the edges of the boardwalk. On closer examination, we discovered that the entire bog was full of blooming pitcher plants. We could look across the water and see hundreds of these strange little purplish-orange flowers peeking up through the reeds. Neither of us realized they grew in that area, or that they bloomed, and we spent a long time examining them, fascinated by these strange little carnivorous plants

So this year...

The action shot...PK planting the terrarium

We'll see how these bog plants manage in the arctic tundra land that is our apartment...

A little odd, yes, but it sure beats another scented candle, eh?

and now, a break from thinking about snow...

2008-12-26T18:48:00.006-05:00

Jason deCaires Taylor recently created the world's first underwater sculpture park in Grenada, West Indies. His sculptures are created from materials that encourage underwater life to colonize and change them; the ecosystem itself is part of the sculpture, and the interaction of the two dramatizes the transformative nature of life. There is something haunting about these works, all cast from real people, all located in the ethereal underwater of the Caribbean sea. I can imagine what it must be like to dive among them-how fragile one might feel in the shifting water and soundless light.

More images of his work can be found here: http://www.underwatersculpture.com/index.asp