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I am constantly reminded that there is a time and place for everything.  For several years now, I have noticed and had access to the glass cylinder sitting on top of my science guy’s bookcase.  But for the first time, today I photographed it.  You see, he bumped the bookcase this morning, knocking the cylinder to the floor.  It was a close call but luckily it hit the carpeted part.

A Galileo thermometer.  Read more here.  A gift from family.  He tried to replace it on top of the shelf, but the morning sunlight hit it and that was that.  I gently took it from his hand.  At his quizzical look, I said, “I’ll be careful.  Promise.”

And so far, I have been.  😉

Dead Tree, Beautiful

One day, the landlord will have to cut down this tree before a strong wind blows it down on top of the house, a car or a person.  Branches have already begun to break loose and litter the ground.  But for now it stands tall, if a bit rickety, creating great beauty in its silhouette.  I took this photo through the sheer cotton curtains covering the kitchen window.

Make Me

Making me smile this morning …

The delightful essay Solitaire in Talking Writing Magazine, that brings to mind that conundrum I’m experiencing this month of balancing discipline and productivity with just a dash or two (or three) of what I call creative procrastination.

Making me reflect …

Bullying.  No, I have not seen the new documentary just released, though I hope I have the courage to watch it when it comes to my area.  I’m referring to comments made in the Ezra Keats biography mentioned in yesterday’s post, and stories told by Mister Rogers in a documentary now airing on PBS.  How both men as young boys were bullied and how the experiences influenced the art of Mr. Keats (check out Goggles) and the life work of Mister Rogers (see Mister Rogers and Me).

Making me imagine …

Dandelions.  Through the office window where I sit, I see a field of dandelions in a garden that my neighbor has yet to prepare for planting.  I imagine going over to my neighbor, whom I have never met, and asking her if I might pick those “weeds” and turn them into wine as I once did as a child back in Virginia.  She might hear me out and then slam the door.  Or, in a month or so, I might be sharing pics of mason jars filled with citrus-infused homemade brew.  Time will tell … 😉

Sometimes when a photograph has been accepted for publication, the editor has asked me for the “story behind the picture.”  Similarly, when my  little four-year old friend sees some of my work with colored papers, she often asks, “Why did you do that?”  And since she is looking at me intently waiting for an answer, I take a deep breath and try to share with her the story of why I made a sky green and a blade of grass blue.  Well, on this quiet afternoon, I decided to share with you some of the stories behind my most recent works on paper.  😉  Mostly they were done at night, to help me settle my brain before bed, by doing something different with my hands.

Red Leaves on Snow

The story:  In reading “The Snowy Day and the Art of Ezra Jack Keats,” I was reminded of that striking scene in the picture book, The Snowy Day, when the little boy stands outside and is looking back at his footprints tracked through the snow.  No footprints did I draw, but a trail of red leaves did come to mind, touched by sunlight.

In the Spirit of Klimt

The story: One day,  while researching how trees have been expressed in art, I chanced upon Gustav Klimt’s Tree of Life.  I was aware of Klimt’s striking female forms, but new to me was his tree with branches spiraling against a solid sky.  I wondered what such branches would look like dotted with leaves made of Japanese paper.

In the Garden

The story:  Speaking of Japan … a lovely woman sent me the children’s picture book, Little Pictures of Japan.  For me, the book’s cover is evocative of looking through a rounded Japanese window into a garden.  The image stuck with me so I decided to assemble what I imagined I’d see peering through such a window on a moonlit night.  And finally …

Ethereal

The story: I found a cache of white and gray papers and an old set of watercolors I’d forgotten about.   Nothing fancy, just simple lines and washes of color.  For Somerville Open Studios 2012, I’ve decided to reproduce some of these works as postcards.  We’ll see.  Meanwhile, other paperworks can be found here.

So, earlier today, I wandered into the kitchen to make some lunch.  A cloudy day and chilly to start so I decided on a cup of tea.  As I walked toward the stove past the little table where I keep herbs, cut flowers and things like that, I glanced at a vase of old daffodils.

I could not help but think, “I’ve got to throw these things away before the petals fall all over the floor!”  Then I’d have to vacuum … though I already needed to vacuum.  I spritzed a few stems with water.  Maybe a little moisture would help.  Instead, a petal drifted free of its stem and just managed to land on the table.

I turned away with a curmudgeonly sigh.  I put the kettle on to boil.  While waiting for it to whistle, I felt a bit of warmth on the back of my neck.  Perhaps the sun was finally peeking through a cloud.  I turned to look over my shoulder, and this is what I saw that made me smile.

Beauty in the Darkness

Ever have a period in your life when you’re feeling just a bit out of your routine, or as my fellow likes to say, “discombobulated?”  Well, I’m certainly feeling that way at the moment.  Not sure if it is cosmic in origin (there’s a lot of cool astronomical stuff happening right now) or if it’s regular life stuff (lot of different projects coming due).  To give myself a break over past day or so, I’ve wandered with my camera outside and around the house.  I have found myself drawn to the concrete, like the above dark pansy growing in what has become a local restaurant’s outdoor ashtray, and to the more nebulous and ethereal like these shadowy branches of a dead tree dancing on a wall in my apartment.

Yesterday, I found myself in the kitchen mesmerized by herbs in silhouette like this dill against a clay saucer and rosemary in relief upon the table.

There was the lovely coil of copper surrounding a single strand of thyme …

… and three shells collected I can’t remember where, but now sitting in the hallway amidst all sorts of plants.

Part of me would love to sit with these images and see what writing they inspire.  Perhaps later.  Right now, I must rise from this chair, and get ready for a gig.  There I will do my best to stay disciplined and quite focused, and not lose myself in the shadows and other dark beauty revealed by the spring light.

White Tulips

I splurged on a bouquet of white tulips this weekend.  An indulgence in simple beauty.  I gently placed them in a vase and you know what?  They immediately drooped.

But you know what else?  It didn’t matter.

Their simple beauty remains.

 

Laissez les Bontemps Rouler.  In other words, let the good times roll.  That is the name of this painting by artist Carol A. Simmons.  Without hearing a single note, can’t you feel the music imbuing this canvas with life?  How about the bluesy notes eminating from this painting of Lady Blue?

I must say I was first drawn to those works of Ms. Simmons that highlighted the bright colorful culture of the Gullah people and others in the lowlands of South Carolina and Georgia.  But recently I have had the great pleasure to learn more about her work, its continuing evolution, and yes … how music is influencing her creative journey.  Just click on one of the pictures above (or here) to discover for yourself the vibrancy of her work.  Enjoy!

Background Papers

Inspiration comes in many forms, and in this case, it was stumbling upon the store Old Japan Inc. in Boston’s South End.  Walking through the shop was a dream but the best part was being able to walk out the door with a small cache of origami papers.

They are helping me to view “old” objects around the house in new ways …

… as well as add new elements to my “Paper Worlds.”