Tree Hugger

It's Friday!
Have you hugged your tree yet?

I gave mine a squish, then greedily ate as many blackberries as I could find, and topped it off with every single ripe cherry tomato.  Really the garden is just a big cattle trough for me to wander along, snacking here and there a couple times a day.  Other than greens and zucchini, not much makes it in the house.  We're a whole family of omnivores; the puppies beg for strawberries, the kitties gnaw the snap peas (true story), and I eat carrots with the stems springing from my mouth like a jaunty pipe.  Kind of like a rabbit... hmmm...  So here's the question: what type of animal ARE you?  I'm afraid I'm some sort of piggy-rabbit-thoroughbred hybrid.  All legs and ears and quick rooting nostrils.  At least something like that.


Cheerio you summer thangs!
~ Umber ~

Elevate

 

 

Elevate Rings
sterling silver and nevada varicite

Rise up as if you were Hawk.
Lift your eyes and scan the horizon.
Acknowledge what you see without judgement.
Feel the wind, smell the air, hear the zephyrs.
* * *
If you've been here a while, you'll know I like to create work as personal reminders to myself.  Kind of like tying a string on your finger but so much more potent.  The words above are my loose personal interpretation of the lessons I've followed from an incredibly wise woman.  May we ALL elevate our heads, our hearts, our sight!
(in the shop now!)

Homage

I finished her this morning.  Actually, I was close, so close late last night, painting with the windows open to the dark.  I brought her downstairs and hung her on the bedroom wall, facing the end of the bed, because when a painting is this close, I like to sleep with it close by.

When thunder shook the house in the wee hours and lightning blazed right through my eyelids, I awoke to the sound of a torrential downpour.  In the hazy black of night the owl glowed softly, just enough for me to sit up and make out her outline.  I felt safe.  Held.  Communal.

I'm still working on the official words for this painting, this Homage (for a great many of my paintings I like to write story-titles, a bit of poetic prose that serves as companion for the paint, as another doorway in which to enter a the painting), but I want to tell you some of the raw, perhaps unraveling, untidied thoughts behind it.  

It starts with this: we're moving, again.  Back north by the end of August.  We've known the move was eminent for months, and while it is deeply bitter-sweet, I can not deny that I know this chapter of life is drawing to a close.  So for months now I've been soaking up the land, willing my cerebral cortex to perfectly imprint the shape of every hillside, the bend of these redwoods in the wind, the scent of this dirt, the sound of this particular mix of flyers, the color of my river at sunset.  I've been promising to never forget, and offering thanks after thanks for all this land has gifted me.  It has been my place of healing, a place of quiet, of deep breath, of salt and tears and emotional stretch-marks.  It has been a refuge.  

But still.  I know in my bones, the time has come to leave the nest.  

So this painting, like so much of the work I've been creating through of late, is my small offering of gratitude to the land which has cradled me so well.

Tonight I know I'll sleep deeply under her guardian gaze.

Homage
(acrylic on canvas, 3' x 5')
(please please click on the image above - it will take you to my flickr page wherein you will be able to see this image MUCH larger!)

One

Now I know some of you may want to put up a fight, but I tell you true: my niece is the cutest little one year old dumpling on the face of the planet.
* * *
GEMMA GRACE,
Happy First Birthday Baby Girl!
Loves,
Your freshly smitten Aunt Umber

The Current List

I am just about to head into the studio; the pickle pot is warm, those berries are now history, the puppies are sleepy and the day has turned shockingly cold and misty for July.  But first I thought I would share a list with you, a list I sat down and took the time to write out over a cup of chai.
(and on that note, tell me if you're interested in the BEST recipe for a completely herbal, vegan "chai" - I'll gladly share)
I've been sparse on the web lately, sparse on words in general, but pouring every ounce of energy into the studio.  It's a building period, a time of stretching and growing, even if there is not too much to show.  I'm striving for deeper, richer, maybe a little raw around the edges, freer, lighter, and ever, ever truer.  Thinking on all this, I put pencil to paper and wrote out a short list of my current inspirations, those things I am thinking on, meditating on, working on when I sit down at the bench or tie my apron around my neck.
I'd love to share them with you.

~ The Current List of Inspiration ~

~ The lilting, curving, swooping flight patterns of swallows
~ Wild fennel blooms
~ Topographies, radiating landmasses, concentric circles
~ Vultures
~ The rich, undulating minty green of variscite 
~ The alizarin stain of raspberries on skin
~ Medicine wheels, cyclical imagery
~ Night creatures
~ The venation patterns of dragonfly wings and arugula blossoms
~ Wild grass seed heads in both their tightly woven geometry and nonsensical sprawl
~ Key holes, tiny windows, mysterious pockets that hold whole worlds within our world
~ Barn owls, always barn owls.

And sometimes, they all come together.