{a letter to whispering trees}

A few days ago on Twitter, Kerri and I were chatting about talking trees. How they sway in the wind, fluttering leaves rustling together to create nature's wind chime. My mother, in fact, used to set me under trees as a baby, the leaves a perfect mobile. Our conversation got me thinking about how, in a few weeks, I'll be leaving Chicago to move across the country to Phoenix, and how the trees I love so dearly will be left behind. Kerri's suggestion was to take pictures of my favorite trees to take with on the move.

I thought about that, about all the things I'm leaving behind, not only physically, but mentally and spiritually as well right now in my life. My art is going through a change, a passage that seems so important yet scary at the same time, I often don't know what to do but keep moving forward. When reading last night, this passage from one of my favorite books, 'Dance of the Dissident Daughter' really resonated with me. Sue Monk Kidd writes:

The only way I have ever understood, broken free, emerged, healed, forgiven, flourished, and grown powerful is by asking the hardest questions and then living the answers through opening up to my own terror and transmuting it into creativity. I have gotten nowhere by retreating into hand-me-down sureties or resisting the tensions that truth ignited.

I thought, Isn't this what I'm going through? Passing through my own truths -- about life, family, art, love, attachment -- and coming out the other side with more heartfelt, expressive art? The pieces I've been doing lately, on loose pieces of canvas, have become some of the most earnest pieces I've ever done; in fact, the one I constructed last night brought tears to my eyes as I finished stitching on it.

Wanting to be near the trees and grass and earth beneath my feet, I grabbed my journal, camera, and book and ventured outside. I wrote those passages that really mean something to me in my journal, bringing in this bit of twig -- it was there, right where I decided to sit, as though it was always supposed to be with me.

But after taking photos for awhile, I realized no picture could do these trees true justice. So I switched settings over and began to film, the lyrics, "Don't let this fading summer pass you by," hitting me so hard as I wrote my little letter, I cry every time I watch this. This is art-as-film, not a tutorial or vlog, but me expressing myself as best I possibly can as the sun sets behind me and another day begins to end.

{inside the red suitcase}

With the studio being packed up, many of my supplies are now stored here, inside a vintage red suitcase of unknown origins. It sits alongside my papers and a tool-box of paint and such. I love opening it, looking at the wonders inside. I could get used to working out of such a thing. Plus, it's portable and ready for anything!

Click on the images to go to Flickr, where I've put notes on the photos to tell you what's inside!

{a saturday in pictures: second saturday arts on the avenue, kenosha, wi}

{traveling through farmland}

Between here and there, the land is flat.

The stretch dotted by broken fences and falling barns, wood naked from years unkempt in the rain bowing under the weight of roofs missing shingles. They fall, heavy animals no longer able to go on, their desolation somehow graceful.

And hope comes down the slope of a slight hill, a silo reaching for the cloudless sky. There are still small farms here, children playing out in the front yard when school's out of session.

But these sights can't keep my attention for long. I spill open my bag.

The road is surprisingly smooth for being a narrow two-lane snake of state highway, but I'd left my scissors at home, afraid they'd be taken away if my bag was searched. It remained in the car, intention taken by reality. The scraps are in there somewhere, too complicated for the mindless entertainment I require.

I feel like a reporter, chronicling every move. The visit. The ride. A stop at Sonic (my first; defiantly journal-worthy). What I see out the window, flying by as I head for home.

There is magic out here. A peace and simplicity my heart enjoys, but would soon bore of. I am a city mouse, needing dirty sidewalks, hole-in-the-wall coffee shops, three-story used bookstores with aisles so narrow, my shoulders brush spines on each side. I travel alone but am never lonely; conversation with strangers has always been easy for me, and I collect the stories like they're precious stones.

Out here, there are only phone lines dipping between poles, wide, waking fields, silos and chipped equipment. Beauty and amazement stretching far and wide, missed only as my attention returns to the journal, to the doodles and words and colors I apply.

The car drives closer to home.

{soldering surprises}

Oh, I've been a tease! I keep talking about my soldering projects, and then never share pictures of any of them.

When I started soldering, it was for me. I find it relaxing and exciting, and usually have a new pendant to wear to work every day. And, being a Creative Girl, I'd show off the newest ones to the co-workers who'd care. But now it's become a Thing. I have a few regulars who ask to see my pendants, and even have a co-worker who wants me to make a set for her and her daughters!

Just proof that creative energy, when it comes from a place of love, can be very powerful!

I've had people telling me I should sell them, create more, even given me ideas! My mindset, however, has been that I'll make as many as I want for me and sell some only after I've made a bunch. My technique isn't perfect (though I'm a perfectionist, so that isn't saying much!), but I've limited myself to one a day so I can spend quality time on them without neglecting other aspects of my life.

Today's marks the beginning of something new. I have a few pieces of vintage costume jewelry, and have never been the kind to preserve things, so a few pieces from a vintage necklace made their way onto this new soldered square. It is also the first time I've used a copy of a piece of artwork of mine. I want to put my paintings and such in them, now!

This has become very addicting and enjoyable. I find myself wanting to shop for beads. Since I've learned how to do basic wire jewelry (I took a class awhile ago), I can combine the two to create some stunning pieces.

But I'm not neglecting my box! I've got half of a first draft of an article done and have been outlining The Book (as it will be called from here on in) in my journal. Which has become more of a sketchbook than finished, intended pages. Lots of playing and drawing and experimenting with colors going on here! And, of course, on the cover. Because sometimes, you don't have time to open it before the doodling urge overcomes you.

And! I'm teaching a workshop soon! Just have to email the details (tonight, Jami!). I've been planning and scheming and gathering supplies for this journal-making and backgrounds workshop! If only you all could be there....we'd have such fun!

Here are some photos from outside the jail yesterday. Brother is home and seems to be doing well. *G* I, unfortunatly, must be off to serve coffee. Hopefully, this burst of creative energy and getting things done will continue! Pokes to get me back on track are welcome!

{day 50: zine changes, journal #6, & everyday magic}

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="playing with sumi-e ink on layered pages"][/caption]

Days have been spent working in my journal. Being bound the Easy-Peasy way, I have 2 clear "section" where the gap stands between signatures: one is for beautiful art, paint, and flowing ink; the other, for words. For ages, I've written that I want to write more, and even made it one of my new year's goals. Lately, the words have begun to flow from me just as easily as paint and ideas. I have new faith in myself and my path. Fatigue and problems and drama had me doubting myself, questioning if art and journaling would simply be a hobby, or if it would grow to something more.

I think it is. Always growing, my seed has become a tiny sapling.

Changes @ Page by Page

I'd like to announce the addition of the wonderful and amazingly-knowlegeable Dawn Sokol as my co-pilot on the adventure of Page by Page. This came after some deep contimplation on my part and a moment of sarendipity when we realized we both wanted to do the same things.

Partnering with her will help keep me on-target and allow us to publish more than one issue a year! The outlines are already in place: please let us know if you have any suggestions or would like to submit something -- this is truely a community effort.

Journal #6

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="381" caption="the new journal's cover page"][/caption]

Odd thing is, there is no journal #5!

I thought this was #6 of the completed journals, but found out later it isn't. Oh, well! I created this one the Easy-Peasy way, not wanting to take the time to do a proper hardcover binding -- I wanted a new journal to work in right away! Call me impatient, but this is a great step for me, as I used to fret if there were any imperfection in my work and journals. Yes, the signatures are a bit loose, and the cover paper is peeling off, and the paper's all different sizes, but I adore it for it's imperfections. Celebrate the things that make you uneasy -- they are blessings in disguise. Rather than write here about the major changes in my life, here are the journal pages dealing with them. Click for larger versions @flickr.

Everyday Magic

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="bare feet, twirling skirt, and my new magic wand"][/caption] I think my father thought me mad when I squeeled in delight and rushed to grab this magic wand. Grinning, I asked him which I should get, and he chose this one -- blue and sparkly. Nothing like a 25 year old woman (as of Tuesday -- I can't wait for cake!) bouncing up and down because of a cheap wand. But I realized I need more magic in my life. So many moments of sarendipity have happened in the last week that I can't help but see magic everywhere.

Serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely.

I use this word because I don't believe in coincidences, I believe in Fate. And isn't it just a beautiful word? Try saying it to yourself a few times over. Serendipity. Serendipity. Serendipity. I felt more alive, creative, and artful dancing around my studio with my new wand by candlelight than I have in the last few days of repetitive-feeling journal pages. Try doing something completly different, outside your normal experiance, in order to find your hidden creativity.

More to come...

I know I said this before, but I have more up my sleeve. I've begun writing a series of essays, or "chapters," on some new things I've discovered that has reinvigorated my creative life and journaling experiance. And since it's already written, I can say you won't be waiting 16 days for the next post from me!

Until next time, remember, you are loved and perfect exactly how you are. And I give you permission to:

a prairie adventure

We aren't called the Prairie State for nothing.

Today, I went on an adventure.

It's been awhile since I last went into nature, last glanced upon the natural beauty of this world without a windshield in the way. With the weather finally warm, I decided to grab my camera and hike through the woods and prairie near my home in northern Illinois.

I've missed it so! The sky was no longer cluttered with dark clouds, with overcast skies bringing doom and gloom. While I brought my journal with, I found using photos to document how I was feeling was much more exciting. Unknown. I adore taking pictures but have never considered myself very good at it!

So, my thoughts dictated where my camera was pointed. The woods, no longer viewed with an objective eye -- a tree is a tree, a path was a path --  trees clanking together became natural wind chimes. Paths winding from view were metaphors for my life at the moment, as were the splits in the paths. Bridges were faith, the hand of Goddess helping me along the way. Those thoughts clouding my mind the most became crystal clear on a digital display.

Consider the detour, the path off the beaten track. Only a few venture down here, and yet, I found the best mirror for my life on this tiny trail. Gone was the gravel of the way taken by many; wood chips gave way to wild forest instead of manicured grass meant for four-legged companions. And farther down, several wooden "bridges" helped one over the craggy marsh-like depressions of drying river fingers. A wetland and wood living together. Faith. Faith will help you cross the rough patches with grace and ease.

You just need to take the first step. It is the hardest.

After 1.8 miles, a length I haven't hiked in many, many years (bad hip, knees, feet, ankles....), I lay on the grass and took a break.

Remember: you ARE one with all. Springy like the grass. Light like the wind. Wild like the weeds. Need energy? Bounce on tall grasses, pet a dog, smile at the wonderful symphony of frogs. Get out there. Walk. It clears your head, refills the well, helps you along.

Tomorrow, I plan to journal my hike. Stay tuned!