i always seem to have several projects going on at the same time. and many more flutter in my mind. so i am beginning to make lists. i used to be able to remember what i wanted to say through my art, but of late the ideas come at me too fast so lists might work to feel a little more focused.
but where are my people? it somehow feels like a sleepy town and i ask myself, if a space so beautiful exists, where is the person that created it. and then they appear and they have no words. they seem to be in a constant half sleep. weird.
this month, no painting, just scribbles here and there. and lots of photography and cooking since the cold makes me extra hungry.
when the climate turns cold, i turn to the small stash of fabric i have managed to acquire at the secondhand shops, including a real wool blanket.
why is it that i am so drawn to the organic? the elements: wood, stone, metal, water above all.
and the rustic