Daring to publish my meditation...
November 1, 2015
The sky is a beautiful pink today, settling into a golden white at the edge of the horizon. It glows light rose, a color I name “shine,” because it flashes and makes me squint. A bird squawks, “who are you, who are you, who are you?,” then finishes his question with what sounds like, “huh? huh? huh?” Another bird chirtles, a sound between chortle and chirp, begging, “come here, come here,” and then “Be here, be here, be here.”
Yesterday, I tried to document a valley girl accent on an endless loop of HGTV while I cut hundreds of water bottles. Here are the notes I scribbled on the back of an envelope:
1.'All white' = 'ohl-white'
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'really' = 'rilly' (as in silly)
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Everything with ing becomes 'een' (as in 'amazeen'or everytheen) and my favorite,
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'What's going on' = 'cuh-n hawn'.
I tried and failed to jot down the rapid rhythm of her swallowed phrasing . This sounds condescending, so let me admit that I misuse and embarass myself when I invent words without realizing it. I am known to lapse into a Boston accent, especially at restaurants when I am “aw-der-in my din-nah.” I just enjoy deciphereen people and bird chirtles. “Be here, be here, be here,” is all I can hear right now.
“If you could you could do anything and knew you wouldn't fail, what would you do?” It's and old prompt, but I read it again in Jenny Lawson's Furiously Happy. Jenny approaches the question as though she has a three wish genie. My instinct is to worry about choosing the wrong wish. Write a book or sing in a blue grass band? Does the prompt imply any measure of reasonableness? Maybe we should put our poker chips on the outlandish. Why is the prompt in the negative instead of the affirmative, “if you knew you would succeed?” I suspect we fear failure more than we are lured by the prospect of success.
Last night my dream was like watching a weird steampunk movie. I woke up, grabbed my smartphone and wrote down the scenes on a million virtual post-it notes since I don't know how to pull up the notebook app. My phone is smarter than me, I mean “I.” (Does the . go before or after the “”? I'll have to ask my phone.) My dream recollections came in out of sequence spurts, perfect for the post-it format. Regarding writing about dreams, most writers warn against it, but there are a handful whose dreams fuel their fiction. My dream is creepily Jungian so I will keep it to myself What goes on in my waking brain is more than enough material to deal with.
Right now, my new color named Shine is glowing a wedge onto white curtains. It moves from lavender to pink to yellow and back very subtly. The shadow of a palm tree creates a horizon line behind a scrim. The sky peeks through the trees. I see no middle ground in the transition from solid to vapor. Where land meets sky there is dancing and contentment for me. The land and the clouds don't merge, they just look very, very happy to be near each other. They touch only in places where the taller bits of branch reach the highest.
A squirrel plays high wire on the phone lines. All the underground cabling must hamper some of his travels. Does anything travel along the buried cables other than voices and electricity? What do I do with all of my thoughts? I can't differentiate interesting from boring. I wrestle with all manner of differentiation in life. What is to be feared and what is safe? My default often falls to fear. It seems easier to bow to fear than take the risk of being hurt or failing. But in my fear I fail.
My first real job was as an insurance underwriter, the person who puts a price tag on risk. I was swimming in the unknown and unknowable. How much do you charge for a truckload of watermelons traveling from Florida to Georgia? I had never contemplated what could happen to watermelons. The liability side of insurance was more my cup of tea, though I wasn't good at that either. I learned about slipping and falling, and who can be blamed. That poisoned my thinking more than the watermelons because people were at stake, children, even my children.
Today I read Hebrews 4:1
“Therefore, since the promise of entering his rest still stands, let us be careful that none of you be found to have fallen short of it.”
Since I embrace everyday living as part of my eternity, here's to stepping into rest and living this day without fear.
Walking cane with a kick!
I did a quick little tutorial on how to jazz up a walking cane. Enjoy!
A sneak peek at holiday ornaments...
I'm working up a few items for Christmas gifts. Above are some alcohol ink decorated ceramic balls. I decided to hand dye silk ribbons to match. I love the difference that little detail makes.
I love these tear drop glass terrarium ornaments. I sprinkled sparkly gold metallic glass in the bottom, jazzed it up with a chain tassel, and added a tillandsia. What could be better than a plant that lives on and hangs in mid-air? 
911 and the tree of life...
I am feeling shaky today. Like everyone who is old enough to remember the events of 911, I am reflecting. I was teaching art that day, and it wasn't until a friend brought her classroom of students to my door at 11:05 that I heard of the devastating news of the two planes, the twin towers, and the Pentagon. A friend of Jan's, someone as close as a brother, should have been in the are a of the Pentagon that morning, but somehow he was spared, but we didn't know that then. We prayed.
The photo above is part of a 2011 installation called "The Tree of Life Reclaimed." In scripture, the tree of life is said to span the river of life and its leaves are for the healing of the nations. Some say the metaphor of the leaves is related to medicinal teas. I wonder if they represent a place to gather for shelter.
The news anchor at the Pentagon this morning noting how much the crepe myrtle trees have grown since they were installed as part of the memorial to the souls who lost their lives fourteen years ago. "It was a bright blue beautiful day, just like today," she recollects, and then remarks on the trees as a measure of fleetting time.
I am out of touch with the friend who broke the news of the 911 attacks to me, but I still have her email so I jotted her a note, :
"Then we prayed for your friend Cindy's husband because he worked in the area of the Pentagon that was hit. The next day, you came to school in mismatched shoes. Our earth shook. They mention that the crepe myrtles at the Pentagon have grown so much since they were planted as part of the memorial, and it gave me new insight to the leaves of the tree of life being for the healing of the nations. Growing shade, like healing , takes time."
Cyanotype, toe tattoos and blue crime scenes...
I experimented with cyanotype, applying photo chemicals to silk scarves, laying a variety of objects on the fabric, then exposing it to the sun.
Cut glass above, botanicals to the right and below, then plastic animals and barware. 
Collateral damage. I wore gloves, but I didn't anticipate the dripping onto my toes. Cyanotype is not dye, it is a photograph, so have I just given myself a toes tattoo?
When I taught young art students, we would sometimes use permanent marker. Invariably someone would get it on their hands and panic,"Mrs. Wayne, it's permanent!" "Don't worry," I would say, "when you are walking down the aisle on your wedding day, you will not have Sharpie on your fingers."
The ratty shirt I work in I think was improved by the spatter. I can't say the same for the floor in my studio. Have I been watching too much Dateline, or does this look like a Prussian blue crime scene?
How I relieve stress:
Emergency glitter key chains. Stocking up on stocking stuffers.
Herding dinosaurs and wild animals. Actually, making a gaggle of planters.
Paint pretty places.
We recycled the recycled!
I'm so excited that Joy's Horizon:Building Bridges can now be seen in Orlando, where many of the volunteers who collected, cut, and painted the more than 10,000 bottles live. It first appeared in October at Grand Rapid's annual ArtPrize event. You can read about the project here. 
Here is a photo of some of the volunteers that helped put up the 120 feet of wonder! We had so many helpers it only took about an hour to install. We had at least 17 people working on it, making quite a parade down Rosalind Ave. carrying the 25 foot sections. Then we got zippy and attached it to an existing fence around the Orange County Administration Building, in celebration of the upcoming Sculpture on the Lawn event. My installation will be on display for about one month so don't miss it, though if you drive down Rosalind you can't!
I am always so moved and humbled by the hundreds of people who help me sing this song of color. 
Pool tool...
I can't bend more than 90 degrees because of my new hip that gave me a big scare a week ago when it popped out and back, so I've been working by standing in the pool with my panel at the edge. Tonight I devised a floating tool bench!
New spin on an ugly cane...
I had my hip replaced a few weeks ago and have graduated to using a cane. I noticed that , unlike when I have had to use a wheelchair, children seem wary of the cane. With good reason I guess. I knew I wouldn't use it for long so I bought the cheapest I could find. I thought it was spiffy leopard print metallic, but it is camo! Got home today and recalled a few friends on FB anticipating a decorated cane. Here's what I have so far. I need to brighten up the handle but was pleased as punch that the bottles slide onto the lower part of the metal tubing. Maybe I won't lose it as often now that it is colorful, but do I have the nerve to carry it to an artist reception for my contribution to Orlando's Sculpture on the Lawn?
Site wide Etsy sale! 25% Off til Sunday.
Just restocked my etsy site. To celebrate take 25 % off of your order from now until Sunday, May 10th. Simply enter code RESTOCK25. Happy Shopping!
Happy 30th anniversary dish garden...
I happened to have 2 of these owl beads, so I added them to a dish garden made from a vintage casserole dish. My dear friend is celebrating 30 years of marriage, hence the pearl enhanced veil. Her husband is a golfer. I gave him a dapper look by topping a vintage shell bead with a pearl. Voila: a beret. I stopped myself when I started imagining candelabrum and little forest guests... or a tiny golf club and bag, and a suitcase for the bride!
Serving up some happy!
Dreaming instead of sleeping...
We moved back to Virginia after living three years in France. I had merged the grammar of two languages and entered school saying "I love my house white" and, as much as I love ice cream , I could not understand why anyone would want to put it between two slices of bread and make a sandwich out of it.
One day in school my thoughts were drifiting and the teacher said "Are you day dreaming?" I replied, "What is that?" She said something about looking out of windows and being in another place and I still think "I want to do that."
So,last night when I couldn't sleep I dreamed of this.
Daisy, daisy, give me your answer true... I'm half crazy...
Making these little dish gardens is other worldly, like reading a children's story book. The gravy boat has a 'hen and chick' baby succulent, (chicken & gravy!) so I added an ornamental spoon and on of my less scary looking blades from deconstructed pocketknives and Daisy is overwhelmed because her cup overflows. I made these before my glorious trip to FLORIDA CACTUS!!! I followed my gps up and down the hills of Apopka, off the main road to gravel, off the gravel to sand, and VOILA! Glorious greenhouses host every variety of succulent imaginable, and cactus too. I skipped the cactus house. I worked in a nursery and we potted tiny one inch thumb pots of cacti. I still hold a grudge. 
Above is the first of many greenhouses at Florida Cactus, and I limped through almost all of them. I didn't want to miss anything! I nestled my box of treasures into the car. I forgot a carseat! Should I buckle them in or at least give them little handlefuls of Cheerios for the trip home?
It turns out they travel well, not a peep out of them. Now they are on my potting bench aka porch dining table. I feel like I just went trick-or-treating and I don't want to share my candy. But I have to use them up so I can go back and get more!
I planted all my mini jars. Don't the plants look like they are lined up for the first day of school? But they need a bath first! 
On longing...
I miss the seasons, especially spring, teasing reentry with crocuses and with twigs weighted with buds so full of potential you can imagine them popping like kernels corn. Does the tree weary of their weight? In a few short weeks they will be its glory.
I happened upon forsythia branches at Trader Joe's, my new favorite place. Forsythia is on my 'points off Florida list' along with lilacs, chipmunks, chickadees, robins, tulips, daffodils, jonquils, red squirrels, red leaves, apple picking, and the crunch of snow beneath my boot. Do we have a personal geography that makes us feel like we don't belong, or are we, as Frederick Beuchner contends, always longing for home?
Longing is a theme that drives my art, especially as expressed in reaching. Trees reach for the sky and waves reach for the moon, creating an electric tension on the horizon that I call joy.
When our daughter Danielle was an infant, she would calm when she looked at the moon. I feel the same way about the horizon with its mystical tension of extremes, like magnetic poles resisting. Is the gap in-between full of tension or promise? Pain and beauty, suffering and grace, earth and and sky and sea.
Here are two things in which I found comfort recently: Forsythia in a vase, its daring branches reaching impossibly into midair, and painting a horizon, imagining the crunch of white pebble paths beneath my feet and my french godmother gathering greens for dinner's salad.
“The word longing comes from the same root as the word long in the sense of length in either time or space and also the word belong, so that in its full richness to long suggests to yearn for a long time for something that is a long way off and something that we feel we belong to and that belongs to us. The longing for home is so universal a form of longing that there is even a special word for it, which is of course homesickness,”
― Frederick Buechner, The Longing for Home: Reflections at Midlife
Late bloomer, time for me to join Girl Scouts.
I am presenting my recycled plastic art to a gathering of Girl Scout troupes. One of the leaders suggested I develop class offerings. These would be great for birthday parties, clubs, or girls night out. Here'e my rough draft. It may also be my final draft since I need to get it finished and printed by tomorrow!
Rosebuds, seedlings, and my succulent baby book...
Th
is morning I visited my friend Harriett Lake, who not only supports my artwork, but collects water bottles for me. She is not able to get out as much as she used, so I brought along a bit of the outdoors. I put together a hanging vase blinged out with a vintage pin.
To my mind, there isn't anything more hopeful than seedlings and flower buds. (Don't mind the onion my photograph. Van gogh found onions to symbols of hope as well as flower bulbs so he painted both.)
I included a stem of sedum that was bursting with babies like this:
After a little visit, I left with a box of bottles and a heart full of inspiration. Harriett is so kind and uplifting. I think I might have grown a few inches taller, or maybe I just started looking up.
This afternoon in an effort to be thrifty, I took a trip to the library. Not only did I not remember the library is closed on Friday, I didn't remember today is Friday. Not to be undone, I journeyed to a couple of nurseries to expand my succulent collection.
Natalie gave me cute succulent notecards for Christmas, and last spring Danielle sent me a succulent wall garden. I guess they planted the seed for my being smitten with them.
I especially enjoy seeing the babies arrive. I will close with a succulent baby book from my plant collection. 
The plant pictured above is called something like flapjack or fry pan, but with those babies underneath, I think it should be called a penguin plant. While we are on the subject of names, the clerk thought the one in the photo to the right is called "Drunken Cactus" because the shoots look like bottles. I'm wondering about that. Maybe it's called Drunken Cactus because you would have to be a little tipsy to think these claw like shapes look like bottles.
These little guys pop out from the side of a larger cluster. And look Twins! 
Etoile boutique celebrates spring!
I had so much fun today bringing some of my latest jewelry and wall decor pieces to Falon at Etoile boutique. She loved a panel of recycled plastic I brought along to show her and it ended up fitting perfectly above her shop window. Go visit. It's a really fun vintage shop on Robinson behind TG Lee, and Etoile is also at the new Adjectives in Winter Park Village. You'll see some of my work there too, like this hexagonal Herkimer diamond pendant and some of my alcohol ink paintings. 
