The Water Cycle

Water has an endless relationship with it’s own form: rarely staying in one shape let alone one place.  Steam, vapor, cloud, drop, flake, crystal, icicle, snowman, avalanche, puddle, pond, lake, stream, river, ocean:  all of the above, none of the above.  Again and Again and Again.

Oops Paint, Pastel, Oil Pastel, Ink.  Not too serious.

the backdoor studio

I sit on the steps of my backdoor. It is the patio, the courtyard, the secret garden, the secret studio.  I don't have a monkey on my shoulder like Frida, but I do have a Kelty dog sitting at my back.  We lean against each other as I pause from the work, taking a moment to stare at the chiggers crawling around the stone steps, hoping they don't crawl in my jeans.  The painting I am working on (well, mixed media now; I am covered in pastel dust) is one that I originally did for the bike show at the wine shop back in December, but the bikes are gone now, the painting is flipped upside down.  Now just a sea and sky swirling together, melting into each other, bubbling foam becoming clouds.  This piece is completely Un-Serious.  The forms are foggy, the colors thin and slightly muddy in spots.  I don't intend on showing it. I intend on hanging it in my bedroom, where only I and my furry assistant can see it.  It's more for the movement, the act of drawing tiny accent lines with pastel, the process of trying to get creative energy moving around.  Sketchbook process on a bigger level, perhaps.  And it gives me something to do besides dig in the dirt.   The courtyard is lovely.  Stones and leaves and light- blues sky and random artifacts of former tenants.  It's  just kinda peaceful, and that is all it needs to be.  I see it becoming a habit.