secrets

I want to own a shop that has secret surprises, secret special pieces that can never be purchased that can only be viewed with a secret password or exchange. Things to brighten your heart, things to forget and remember. Like something that will always be there and comforting, like the curve in a river bed, the bend in a branch, the smell of camphor leaves.

home

details of a new piece


lychee is just magic

Sometimes it is more graceful to just let the tears drop.

Some times it is more comforting to just not make the bed.

Thursday

No, thats not why I was crying.

Teaching dino camp for kids this week. it's been fun and tough.

I caught a bug from them this week too, a cough and sticky in the throat. It made dance class difficult and frustrating and I cried during our stretching and cool down, I tried to quiet my sniffling as they echoed against the mirrored walls. It's tough when you feel too old or uncoordinated or ungraceful sometimes and you have a huge mirror to reflect it all back to you.

I checked out Bird by Bird again from the library just to read the story about Ann Lamott's brother who is sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of books, frustrated and overwhelmed by the daunting task ahead of writing a paper, and her father leans over and says, ' just take it bird by bird' and how as a writer or as an artist just sitting down and focusing on something small is work enough, bit by bit, you complete what it is that seemed so daunting.
***
This morning I was thinking about the chapters of my adult life

Chapter one; Full time artist/ student, part time teacher. I worked a lot and had lots of shows and was constantly drawing and painting and singing and making and biking and collecting. This was my job.

Chapter two: Full time Museum education, part time artist. Still a lot of heart and soul in my projects, but fewer of them, and it surprises me when I happen to see something I made for someone again, years later , I think wow, I made this? it looks foreign to me. I spent a lot of time thinking about child engagement and participation and lessons to instill curiosity and higher level thinking. This chapter could be called ' community of learners' a popular museum education phrase. I was highly critical of myself and my inability to follow through with projects. I am immensely proud of myself, because this chapter ends with me working will an internationally known museum. My heart wasn't always in it, but that's how far I went.

And now moving in to chapter three, and it's approaching a store filled with hand made goods, re tooled and re purposed parts shared. And I'm excited to say that I spent 10 years of my life making things and selling them and learning the intricate ins and outs of sanding wood and painting and staining and rewiring and scrapping fabulous things together in lovely new ways. The perfect pinnacle . The perfect place to be now that I feel firmly myself at 29.
*****
I read randomly in that book the Secret that love is our highest frequency we can operate from , and that restores my faith a little.
****
I am beginning a new painting tonight, squares of pinks and oranges are floating around with overlays of deep red. We'll see how it turns out.

caretaker

On especially windy days I would open all the windows and doors of your house,
letting the dust blow itself right back out; all your papers and pictures fluttering to the floor.

I would fill the corners of the rooms with wild climbing plants, lush and green in the yellow lamp light.
Breathing smells of damp, ancient life into your daily motions.

I would clean your bathroom sparkling,
of every stray hair, dusty water spot and soap scummy corners.
So you might find peace and ease in the rounded shining corners of porcelain.

In the early hours I would play soft music, strings and dainty chimes.
Low warm bearded voices beneath the high soft peeps of the birds outside in the yard.
a gentle soundtrack for the early morning dreams still forming in your sleeping head.

I would drive the three hours just for the sensation of warm sand on our backs and cold salty water on our lips, sticky on our limbs.
Or the two hours for the smell of deep pine forrest floors, the stillness of ancient trees and the snap of twigs under our feet.


Stretch the curve in your spine straight,
grease the creaky dull pain of the metal rod in your shin away,
ease the tension of the skin where the scar pinches,
knead the sore and tired muscles,
breathe an unlabored breath into your body,
or something as simple as stroking the hair at the nape of your neck.

Bones and nests

"your actual experience is far to vast for you to physically follow." -Jane Roberts

I was standing in front of your house,
holding my bike and facing west.

The end of your street was overgrown with weeds,
the asphalt of the street ended in dirt.

It had never been like that before, not that I could remember
and I spoke out loud as I walked towards.
'Has it always been this way?'
You did not reply.

But I approached walking my bike,
stepping carefully onto the dirt and curving my way around the tall silver weeds.
The trim of my skirt catching on the dried brambles.

Train tracks appeared, carving a silver path through the sandy dirt
the whiteness and warmth of abandoned orchards in summertime filled my senses.

The small layers of sticks, dried grass, leaves and hair collected in piles by the wind.

I paused, leaning my bike and slowly kicking the kick stand out, I remembered to be careful of the goat heads.
I envisioned one with a long spike pushing into the black rubber of my tire,
and could see a small gathering of white sharp stars already stuck in my front wheel.

And stood before a chain link fence, grown over with vines and dead leaves, and I knelt to find a nest.

Silver and black wispy brood patch feathers twisted over and around with grasses and bits of thread.
Bones sticky with fur, rocks, and small brown bits of cloth from a toy animal. I bent to touch one of the bones, larger than any thing belonging to a bird,
and something tittered in the branches overhead.

Startled, I let the shiver pass.
and stood to turn away.

day two sore muscles and... bruises?

So I showed up earlier than usual for class tonight, simply because I rode my bike and the downhill race through 5:00 traffic was a lot faster than I expected.

I change my cycling shoes out for my leather slip ons and sit around on the grass, waiting for more girls to show up. Another girl Yesenia, comes by and sits near me, I introduce myself and we start talking about being sore and how we like the class so far, it's her first dance class too, she looks about 24.We head over the the room, where the advanced class is finishing up their routine, they are so graceful and their motions are so smooth, we just silently stare.
More girls arrive, we wait outside until our instructor, Terri, comes and welcomes us inside. We rush in, drop our bags, remove shoes, fix hair, stretch our legs, an older guy comes in and hands each of us a coupon for the local dance apparel store. We fold them up and toss them near our shoes and find our places on the floor in front of the huge mirror, and it's go time. we warm up, we do some basic little moves, we review some routine elements we learned in day one, and on and on for 2 hours and 15 minutes. We learn new moves and take turns doing them 4 girls at a time across the floor, back and forth, we prance and hop, feet in first position and I can't help laughing because we all look like graceful little ponies. Knees kicking up and toes pointed.

My timing is off and every once in a while my feet get themselves in the wrong position but my recovery time was great, and I loved all the little tips Terri would give us. 'use the pressure of the floor to help kick your foot up.' 'lean your hip away until it feels like you're going to fall and then step,' 'spin and drag your toes on the ground and become a compass.' and my absolute favorite ' lean into it like your shooting lasers out of your arm.' I seriously wanted to make little pyew pyew noises when I did that stretch and kick.

We wind down with some solid stretches and twists and then we're done. I put my cycling shoes back on and take a minute before hopping on the bike, climbing the hill is always intimidating, but shorter than I expect. So I'm off, cranking up the hill, enjoying the cool air and absolutely starving.

I think about stopping in Henry's on the way home, but decide against it, I don't want to be the sweaty exercise person stinking up the grocery line, (more like grossery line) since that is one of my major pet peeves. Seriously, no one wants to see your sweaty ass back when purchasing food, go home and shower, please. And thats exactly what I do.

This is how it is

Good morning, I was making myself pancakes to celebrate my sore legs and I couldn't help but pause and rush to write this down.

I am 29 years old, and it really probably is not the best age to begin your dance career, but it's better now than never.
And yesterday was my first class ever, and I had to admit it was fun and tough and awkward. I love moving my body and being conscious of the energy and the grace and the subtle motions, but when you're in a small room with 25 other girls and a gigantic mirror, it is so tricky to keep yourself , well, coordinated.
There are 5 other girls with no formal dance experience like myself and watching them dance after I have just flailed about makes me want to share that with them in some Ann Lamott kind of fashion, a hug, a laugh, a high five, for being here, for being awkward together on the floor, for doing really well on that one step step twist. We just smile with tight lips and shake our heads.

We learned some basic steps and then the beginnings of a routine and by the end of the class she had us twisting and kicking and leaning and rolling around on the floor and many times I felt so awkward and tangled in my own limbs that I just sat on the floor and laughed at myself.

But I reminded myself that it was day one, and yes I'm not as flexible or as strong or as coordinated. And yes, my face does get bright red after a 1/2 hour, but this is just day one.

7 things

I have a crappy stabbing headache tonight and am feeling general malaise.
so I'm going to make a list of 7 things that make me happy. because I'm not feeling happy and it's good to review frequently.

1. Taking naps with the cat, especially during the day
2. The smell of fresh basil
3. dancing ( my first day of my first dance class ever begins tomorow!)
4. Riding my bike in a skirt like a graceful lady, even when powering up a hill or with no hands.
5. drawing when I'm feeling crappy until I forget that I feel crappy and I just want to keep on drawing everything.
6. When meg walks around with feathers in her mouth
7. waking up to rain drops splattering the large leaves.
p.s. solid hugs from new and old friends

What happened?

Pieces were hung in a poorly lit art show.
bad photos were taken.stockings in the sink kind of looked like an octopus
Thank you cards were mailed
This is Camden at the Dog park. This was my first time at a dog park. Why do cat parks not exist? Well, because cats are kind of crazy.

This is dog politicsBalboa park is nice at night. We went to the old globe theatre to see Cyrano de Bergerac, it was cold outside and the seats were uncomfortable and it was supposed to last 3 hours so we left at the first intermission.