Frames Help

Well it's taken all summer, but I am finally happy with a project! A transfer onto burlap, framed. Now to make a dozen or more for that mural idea. . .

Taking the mural off the wall

Last night I had the honor of meeting a couple new girls from the Vineyard church while participating in Duluth's finest, "Movie in the park". It certainly was a horrible movie, but it was great to be around a happy crowd of folks.

After the movie had ended we walked back to the car, and the two girls and I chatted lightly about what were were doing with our lives, exchanging the normal stats of a young adult,
Like usual they asked where I was living, where I worked, went to school.
Like usual, I stated that I was on the eight year school plan. (This kind of school plan requires the attendance of at least five different college campuses).
Like usual the two girls laughed,
"Art? Oh cool! What kind? Photography?"
Then like usual the dreaded question came up that I have never seemed to find the answer for.
"What do you like to take pictures of? Trees? Babies?"

I never know what to say!!!

So guess what!! I finally decided to state the obvious instead of giving a stupid answer like, journalism or something that sounds careerish like promising.

"Myself."

"...Oh!"  unsure laughter.

I quickly then changed the subject to upcoming family tree murals and they sounded impressed. (That's the point of these conversations right?)

 We'll let that egotistical answer sit and sulk for now.


I am tampering with idea of making moveable murals. I asked to redo the mural that was finished in January at the Grottes home... there were good ideas on the wall, but I simply don't like what I did. So we try again. I'm not going to be using these photos. Just thought I would see how they looked behind wood.

Burlap is my salvation

Drying out prints. I learned today that it's better to transfer an image if it isn't so contrasty. By the time I get these fully cleaned, there may be nothing left to see.

"Wedding Vow"

I have no idea about these...

"the weeder"

I seem to be living the life of a solitude monk this summer... Much of my days entireties are spent staring at dirt, whacking away at weeds.

 Though to put a twist on it today, I did find myself in the company of a hundred and ten chicken heads; after parting with their bodies just a few hours earlier, they lay not far from me... peacefully, with eyes closed.  A cloud of flies flew just above them, saying a few last prayers in unison to guide them safely to the Promised Chicken Land.

I looked above me and noticed a hawk circling.  Today was hot. The kind of day where it gets to be a little difficult differentiating between the colors of the surrounding landscape.

I will be glad to soundly punch anyone who moans and be-groans their lonely life until they have tasted in unaccompanied ground of "the weeder".

Testing different kinds of fiber material. I still like burlap the best.

I love walking around hardware stores! This SUPERTUFF paint gear seems like it just might be the next adventure.

model material

For the past three days, grandma has been in the hospital with a twisted intestine. Driving back and fourth from Hibbing to Duluth, has been the main course of events for me. This evening I managed to view on the drive, multiple firework shows near the road, including a glowing barrage of fireflies meeting my windshield. It's situations like these on holidays that I really remember. I don't remember the perfects years, where everything goes as planned. Monotony is comforting, but it also has a way of meshing life together.


 Grandma is a whole different person when she is having coffee withdrawals  Holy cow... there will be a lot of catching up when this whole mess is over.


My mother sent home with me, a box of amazing old family photographs. I just have to mention that (what the heck!!) my mother and grandmother have always been model material.  They are way too modest to admit it though.

Love this photo

Nopeming

Her name was Ida. 

 I was perhaps seven or eight years old. I remember going to visit Ida at Nopeming. I remember wearing a brown homemade dress with yellow flowers on it, that mom made for me. Mom would have us kids visit and sing with a couple of the old folks here when we were just little kids. I never liked it. I never liked to sing. 

My friend stated tonight, as we walked the grounds, how fast things fall apart without humans. This place has only been closed for a decade but it looks like much more time has elapsed since it has been usable. 

Things fall apart without humans.... And they fall apart very quickly. 

I had to buy chocolate and coffee tonight after this escapade. 

Can I sing to them now? 

Artist block

I hate the feeling of not knowing where to go next. Every couple months, I shut down because my

brain decides that life is better without feeling. I disagree with it, but until it revives itself, I might be on my own without its handy pathos hand to guide me.