Beautiful Family Reception

Chard in all Its Glory

Tiny little problems

When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown up, we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable.

- Madeleine L'Engle

I may be experiencing one of the tallest and fattest artist blocks period. It's been months of starting and stopping, throwing away and cleaning up, building, tearing, sorting, swearing, and quitting.  I don't like to make weak art that says, "I was too tired today to try".   I'm perpetually faced with the notion that true art has to be;
 striking,
full of hard lines,
strong edges,
gross color schemes,
possible blood stains,
slap in the face text, and
naked despairing bodies.
It has to stop people and make them want to cover their eyes and run. But the next think I find myself doing is making a frames and weaving images of flowers and family. . . This isn't really what I'm feeling?? Don't make silly art, it has to be vulnerable art! But is true art (vulnerable art) always covered in blood and dust?! I have stupid tattoos on my arms, and all I can picture framing is tiny little broccoli transplants?

Maybe not... maybe it's ok, to accept this. And maybe later, my tastes will change.

Here are a couple of my favorite pieces from the last show.

Grandma and I go to Florida to beat the February blues.

From the Finn Fest, to the small streets of Lake Worth and all it's glorious palm tree goodness and mad drivers... It was a week to remember and be grateful for.