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savory

A chaotic growing season for me, I have to say. Some years I’ve had grand plans for what I intend to grow, where and in what vessel. Sometimes I’ve tried to find an organizing theme, like growing edible flowers … although I was reminded by my taste testers that year just because a flower is edible doesn’t mean it tastes good. One year I found potatoes sprouting in a pantry drawer and that set me off on a journey to grow potatoes indoors using methods my dad taught me for growing potatoes outside. This year gardening has been less an adventure and more like a solace and an anchor. A way to be alone with one’s thoughts, work with one’s hands, and all that good stuff.

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orange mint, tarragon, fennel, parsley

I’m not so worried about everything looking pretty. I want functionality … a certain chef has got to have his herbs to cook with, and since I benefit from his experiments, I decided this season to focus on basics like parsley, sage, tarragon, thyme, oregano, marjoram and rosemary. Savory was a new one for me. Delicious. I turned away from the beauty of dill because I always kill it. I did pick up a mint for its hardiness. I keep thinking about lavender.

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The biggest surprise has been the nasturtium. They popped up out of nowhere. I recycle dirt, and after I had planted some tarragon with some old dirt, up comes some nasturtium sprouts! I need to move them to a new spot because the oak tree, now in full foliage, is blocking the light. And in the midst of all this chaotic green, I now have two hot pink geranium as well. That’s what happens when you make a nine-year old put down the iphone, walk with you to the flower market and before you can say, “edibles only,” the flower market owner bends down and says, “Well, hello! What’s your favorite color?” As a non-edible, I’ve tucked the hot pinks away in a little nook where the sun can find them but not a certain chef.

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the completed trough

Nope, that is not the opening to one of my fairly gentle political posts. Just breathe. Those are the words I repeat to myself the night before I attempt to set up my first installation for the exhibit Peace: Cutting through Turmoil. My contribution to the show I guess I can say is a three dimensional representation of my artistic and emotional experiences after chancing upon 1930’s Federal Writers’ Project slave narratives in the public library, and then later reading more narratives online. It was a short paragraph that set me on this path, a recount of childhood memories of eating from a trough with a mussel shell. Shells pulled from the branches …

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What I am creating is ephemeral. Paper, prints, words produced to physically be on display for a little less than a month. A contribution that I think will be part of a powerful whole when viewed in the company of the works by the other participants who have esteemed careers in the arts. I feel a bit like the new kid on the block. A little scary but freeing too.

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It will be an assemblage of pieces and parts, words and images, some culled from nature, some acquired collaboratively with the aid of friends. The least ephemeral of the whole is the trough. While he did let me hold a chisel or two, it was Steve who carved the trough for me using a fallen tree, and a pivotal tool, both shared by friends.

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Shared by friends. No matter what happens with this project it has been a wonderful collaborative effort. I was even able to involve one of my littlest friends, aged 9 and going on 21, who agreed to hold a mussel shell for me.

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Hmmm. What else is there to say? Before this night is done, I have a few more shells to drill holes in and string, and I still need to discuss with Steve how to hang … oops, I can’t tell you what I intend to hang or from what. At least not yet. Meanwhile, I just breathe. 🙂

Peace: Cutting through Turmoil

Brick Bottom Artists Gallery, Somerville, MA

Opening Reception Thursday June 8, 6:00 – 8:00 pm

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coffeefractal

The first thought that comes to mind when I look in the bottom of my cup in the morning is that a certain person makes a really, really strong pot of coffee in the French Press. Which is probably why of late I’ve only been drinking that one cup (or two) in the morning and having no more during the day. The second thought that comes to mind is “Wow! Fractals are everywhere!”

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The patterns in the bottom of the cup are little different from the patterns in the sand as the sea washes up onto shore and rushes back again. And little different from the patterns upon the earth as wind and rivers erode the land. Same forces at work I’ve been told. A fun discovery … though I think I will need to cut my coffee with hot water in the future. 🙂

 

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oystershell

Shells are being strung,

trough

a felled tree has become a trough,

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and photos have been selected as have words. Next steps? Put all the pieces together and then you can see the whole for yourself, along with the work of six other fine artists at Peace: Cutting Through Turmoil, June 8 – July 1, 2017 at Brickbottom Gallery in Somerville. Stay tuned for further updates.

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orchidandblueberries

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riverrock

Spring foliage reflected in the Charles River.

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In Fitchburg, MA. New growth upon the branches.

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A goldfinch brightening the day.

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