August Abundance & Spiraling Inward

Decaying leaf forms fell at my feet the last few days. I took a few to the table to 

look at while I ate, needing to spend more time with them. Lace-like and delicate, 

they became veils for me to look through. The camera didn't always know what to 

do with them - sometimes focusing on what was behind. It took just the right angle 

for the camera to find enough form to photograph. 

There is abundance in the August garden, and I find myself feeling grateful to all
the plants and flowers that thrive here. Its not so easy, what I ask of them. Some
would prefer the prairies of the mid-west, others the wet banks of a river, still 
others want the sandy soil of the mediterranean. I know just what spots will give 
the most sun, six inches to the left or right and there might be a few more hours 
of shade than a plant wants. Most of them, save a special few, would be ever so 
grateful for a few more hours of sunshine. This time of year, I envy gardens with 
tall sunflowers, Russian sage, overflowing vegetables, and a sense of order, but 
these are not the gifts of gardening in the forest.  

After eight years of growing things here, I understand how far I can push things, 

and surrender to the truth that some plants I love just won't be happy in my garden. 

So I've begun to dig up some dear plants that have tried hard, but haven't adjusted

too well. I know this will ultimately gift the garden with better health and spots to 

try new things, and friends will get very enthusiastic plants for their sunnier plots. 

Finding a balance between the cultivated plants and the native or invasive 

species takes some experience. I once let bracken ferns take over a whole area 

thinking they would be "holding the space" until I could plant it, only to learn 

that once they are in, they do NOT intend to leave. The ferns and coltsfoot 

below are a little better at sharing space, and I love the combination of foliage, 

but I will forever be digging blackberry out of this bed...

I'm always amazed when the teasel blooms, it teases (ha!) for a few days with a 

slight tint of violet, and then bursts into a soft furriness that completely contradicts 

the incredible sharpness of the rest of the plant. 

Nothing whispers summer to me like the scent of purple petunias. Sitting by the
window in the evenings, they intoxicate me with their fragrance. No other color 
seems to smell quite the same to me. 

Flowers teach me more than I can possibly express. 

Here, a lesson in radials and points. 

 Here, points, radials and fast form. 

The perennial sunflowers have a wild center

when fully in bloom,

(do click to see details) 

and the brown eyed susans really know their 

sacred geometry!

Yesterday, I did a little drawing in a new sketchbook. It is not at ALL the right paper 

for my spirals, becoming almost translucent with the slightest bit of water. Sometimes 

its good to try out new surfaces, to see what's possible, but after a few tries, I let it 

go.. sometimes its just wrong. Though I like some of the effects, I ripped the paper 

with the nib pen most of the time. I need paper that can take a beating. 

The paper in this sketchbook is MUCH better. Its an old book from graduate school 
that I never finished and is now filling up with words and spirals. Hope to find one of these again... the paper is just right for what I am exploring with spirals at present. 

This spiral -drawn a few weeks ago -definitely moves me inward... 

Here is what is written at the bottom of the page. 

My mother visited last weekend, and while out on an adventure to the Berkshires, 

she gifted me with this necklace. It is a Sun Cross with a spirit animal on the bottom. Though I never draw faces on my spirals, to me, they are alive, so wearing this is like wearing the essence of my work. 

I've been musing about how place influences me and my work. The spirals are very

related to forms in the forest and flowers in the garden. This place asks me to be slow 

and to look and listen carefully - to lean in. Much of my life was spent living by the 

ocean, where movement and expansiveness dominated. There, my work had much 

more to do with rhythm, horizons and atmosphere. Shape, form and color, in my 

early work was much sharper. Searching around in my studio, I discovered work 

that I had done while living in Greece. It was good to look back at work from that 

time, to see where I have come from. If you missed the post about that, you can 

read it here. 

"Sea & Sky", watercolor

"Taverna", ink drawing

 "Mountain Road", watercolor

"Kalivi", ink drawing

"Dog", ink drawing

"Kalami", watercolor

I wonder if you can see seeds of my current work 

in these? 

Leaving you with pics of us... 

me and Pasha cat, 

staying cool under the oaks and hemlocks, 

and dreaming of the sea sometimes.

Well, at least I am. 

Teasel Time in the Garden!

Teasel - quick sketch

When the teasel blooms, its quite a spectacle!

I love the spike patterns and the strange way it 

 blooms. Sometimes it starts from the center, 

other times from the top as this one... 

what a truly amazing plant to witness - from 

dangerous to downright over the top fancy in a few days!

Weed drawing from yesterday...

(motherwort)

Balance is a good thing.... I've been 

balancing my list of art-biz tasks with

blocks of time in the studio. Some of 

the urgency around deadlines is eased, so, 

finding balance is easier. At present 

I'm mostly exploring, playing and settling

in after bringing so much old work 

back from my parents' house that 

needed to find places to live in my 

small space. 

When work is happening.... piles of paper and bits 

of inspiration fill my work table.

Two older sketches exploring natural patterns. 

I cleaned out the studio loft 

that housed nothing but empty moving 

boxes... they seemed precious at the time, 

but since I don't plan on moving,  

better to have my old work 

stored nicely somewhere. I need to 

build some shelving to house the 

HUNDREDS of old sketchbooks from 

Greece and piles of drawings my 

my parents so carefully saved.  

I think I was probably 10 or 11 when I did this one below! 

click to enlarge and read the funny signs!

This is a self-portrait from sometime 

in the 1980's - I 

KNOW my mother must have 

said it was sooo unflattering!

Below is one of my first 

paintings from Samos, Greece. 

Goats in Agios Konstantinos where I

studied art in a small studio program and 

fell in love with the land and began  

eight years of living there part-time. 

"Goats" from Summer 1987.

Below is a small diptych from graduate school, 

sometime in 1993, I think. I was playing 

with using the grain of the wood panel

as part of the image. I used this technique 

a lot in later paintings if I could find interesting 

panels. I'm still interested in this idea and want 

to explore it again. Not the best shot of it, 

but you get the idea. 

I visited my parents twice in the past few weeks, 

to finally get to the overwhelming task of 

clearing out a huge wall of work I had 

stored there. They are moving, so, finally 

I had to go do it. It was actually kind of 

entertaining to re-visit all my old images. 

My father and I laughed at some really bad stuff,

and I had a kind of semi-private retrospective 

exhibition in the basement. 

I purged quite a bit, but couldn't let go of 

sketchbooks. Some of the ones from Greece

are wonderful to look back at. I'll share some 

images from there sometime. 

My father took two trailer loads of old paintings, 

drawings, and sculpture to the dump - some awful work and

some damaged. I took carloads of large paintings, sketchbooks

and portfolios back home with me each time. 

Thank goodness for the studio loft!

someone's stone stack in the river

On the weather situation, we still have had very 

little rain. Thunderstorms seem to skirt around 

here many afternoons, but very few have 

come to the forest. Its been hot, which means

I've been swimming at the river. 

I can't quite make it home without a stone or two. 

Feeling an abundance of gratitude today while strolling 

through the garden. There is something so profoundly 

healing in sharing space with an exuberance 

of flowers and the strangely blooming teasel. 

Buzzes and flights of pollinators 

doing their thing all day is a healing thing.