If you stand still and are in the right place... 76/100
If you stand still and are in the right place at the right time, you know how there’s that moment at dusk, just before the sky gets dark, where the whole world gets brighter for just a millisecond? I’ve missed that moment more times than I’ve caught it but I think it only takes once to keep it in the memory banks.
I have always been intrigued by intersections... 74/100
74/100 days of #the100dayproject and #100daysof5x5abstraction I have always been intrigued by intersections: geographical, interpersonal, cognitive... etc., just all manner of intersection. I realized this morning that most all of this abstract series is about intersection. Where edges meet, where paths diverge, where we meet each other, where we part with each other, where the layers below the surface of things touch, where the colors meet and either blend or push off of each other, where the lines lead to another intersection, and another. The places where I meet myself, coming and going, and returning.
The confluence of blue and yellow doesn’t always mean green. 73/100
The confluence of blue and yellow doesn’t always mean green.
There are those moments when I lay down paint just for the color, to see what a couple of colors have to say to each other, to see how they feel next to each other. Color changes everything about a moment... like a song brings memory; color brings sites and sounds and a sureness to my world. Turquoise and red are calm and fire, they’re ancient and modern, and they gather to bring an abundance of soul.
When I was a kid I took coloring inside the lines veeerrrry seriously. I wasn’t one of those future artists who went all willy-nilly and free with the crayons. Lines were respected and even cherished. They gave me a place to start, to bounce off. Now, ask me if I choose non-traditional colors.... why yes I did. Purple hair? Absolutely. Lime green horses? Thank you yes. Orange grass? For sure. I think a good balance of following some rules and breaking others is the best of worlds.
The other day I woke up thinking about geometry. 57/100
The other day I woke up thinking about geometry. That I woke up thinking about geometry is ironic and bizarre on so many different levels, but I did. And geometry led me to triangles, and arcs, and then those theorems. 10th grade geometry class was painful for me. I didn’t get the whole concept and I wanted the teacher to explain why we took this list of theorems as a given. I wanted to know why I should believe them and he wanted me to believe them because they were so.
It didn’t go well for either of us. I wanted an answer to why I should believe something because someone says I should and he wanted me to shut up with the questions that irritated him and just learn what he was teaching. I think I got a C as a final grade which was probably a gift, and I never took another math class again.
What I remember most about the theorem laws and the calculations is we were always looking for a point in space and a way to define the relationship between another point in that same space. And there were lines and angles and areas and... I wanted those points in space to mean more than the line that might connect them or the area they might define. Who was that point and what did she stand for? And how did her relationship to another point reflect how she moved through that area in space? And all the angles that made connections, how did they play into the story of these 2 points?
So here we have: the journey 2 points made to cross the sky and find a circle in foreign land that felt like something they remembered from a dream.
Okay so I seriously contemplated tossing this and starting again this morning, but since that’s not the point, here she be. Was I channeling a return to Dune I wonder... in any case here’s my 53rd experiment and I offer this up:
it’s incredibly uncomfortable posting an image of something I made and don’t like, but here goes with tossing out the curating and hanging out with #53.
A Lesson in Blue • Blue sky thinking • Into the wild blue yonder • Once in a blue moon • Out of the clear blue sky • Talk a blue streak • Blue plate special • True Blue • Blue blood • Between the devil and the deep blue sea what else?
One of the things this project has allowed for... 50/100
One of the things this project has allowed for is experimenting. Or, I should say it’s allowed me to allow myself to experiment.
I move quickly and if I start thinking about where I’m going, what will the final outcome be, I tell myself to cut it out. I try different combinations: of color, materials, paper and instead of being bummed if something doesn’t work, I make a note to myself to try it again, in a different way, next time. I’ve created 50 experiments, and 50 more to come... now that’s some fun.
I woke up this morning thinking about how as much as I have words and definitions and I understand so many things, that it kind of takes my breath away that there are still so many things I have no words for, no clear definitions and I find myself searching for one word or perhaps a phrase that will explain the way the world feels right now; to explain the way I feel in the world right now. I’m still searching for it.
I’ve been having a reading retrospective extravaganza with #joandidion the last few months. Slouching Toward Bethlehem. The White Album. A Book of Common Prayer. And I’ll keep going from there in some kind of random order. She’s both a journalist and a portrait painter (with words) and I’m fascinated with her fascination for the Yeats poem that she quotes - in her book titles and in her thoughts about the world, repeatedly.
My eye is always looking for shapes that will tell me a story, and so when I paint “abstractly” I have to turn the volume down on that part of my brain, and just move the brush or my hand and see the color.
But when I’m done with the painting part? Story Girl can have at it... there’s something here about how the wind moves through a pine grove and maybe something about startled birds flying up from tall grass in the meadow.
These are the days when we teeter back and forth between summer and winter, always hoping for a longer spring, and so we move between the heat and the cool like the tiny lizards that are doing push-ups in the sun on my garden wall, then darting for the shade.
Nearly 2 weeks in and here’s what I’ve learned: 1. I’m giving each piece attention but not making them overly precious; 2. I’m letting myself experiment in ways I don’t do with any regularity (see my thought about not making anything too precious); 3. I’m in the studio every single day = awesome.
I woke up remembering a riddle, something abt what's black and red and white all over, and still haven't come up with the answer.
When the centers meet... 13/100
When the centers meet... and discuss the gap.
Where I contemplate all the ways we miss each other... 12/100
Where I contemplate all the ways we miss each other... as in not understanding each other, as in losing connection, as in not noticing or hearing, as in: feeling sad to not be with you... as in I miss you.
Just when you think you know where... 11/100
Just when you think you know where all your roads may go, you find a few surprises, a few that you'd never even contemplated finding. And there's that green too.
Little lights everywhere... 10/100
Little lights everywhere, sometimes where you'd least expect them, even in the dark, even in the midst, even in the everything.
Green meets itself and is rendered speechless. 08/100
Green meets itself and is rendered speechless.
Brought to you today... 07/100
Brought to you today, a little bit late but full of blue.
Starting this project with a group of friends, while in North Carolina (and now New Jersey) has made me simplify. Simplify my ideas. Simplify my materials (because I had none, and have had to "borrow" them all.) And simplify my tendency to overthink.
So. Now. To take some of these lessons home with me.
Have you ever noticed... 04/100
Have you ever noticed that when you step outside the regular pattern of your days that there's a stretch of time that feels unfamiliar, uncomfortable even, and then the uncomfortable becomes familiar and you're kind of floating comfortably in this temporary familiarity?
And realizing the challenge of creating these little pieces while not at home with my own art supplies, is a good thing. Kinda. No, it's a good thing.