Remember how artmaking and art thinking used to feel like falling in love?
It is starting to feel like that again.

au·ton·o·mous ( Read more... )

I cut my hair today in the closet of the classroom at work.  For any of you who know me, you know what that means ( Read more... )

I have been dreaming with feverish intensity lately.  I wake groggy, confused, and exhausted.  I want to remember them, string myself through the delicate web of symbols and imagery, cull some meaning from the jumble of ideas, but it shatters at daylight.  All that's left in the morning are these flashes--driving to church with museum docents, snow ( Read more... )

six word memoir
(here: http://www.smithmag.net/sixwords/)

My fantasies always involve running away.

This morning on my grey walk to the bus I smelled that familiar sweet and heady late-February smell.  It is a smell that simultaneously roots me to the moment and sends me hurtling back to every previous promise of spring.  Each year at this time the daphne blooms as hope creeps in around the edges.  It took me only a moment to locate the bush ( Read more... )

This weekend I slept between 11 and 12 hours each night.  M tells me it's because I am like a grasshopper preparing for metamorphosis.  I sure hope he's right.

I'm getting ready.

from the little lj resolution generator:

in 2008 __intaglio__ resolves to:

Give up grown-up clothes.
Give up sharing.
Backup my hardground regularly.
Drink four glasses of patience every day.
Buy new good patterns.

 I'm yours if you'll have me.

Last night I caught up with an old friend.  We went to the bar of a nice restaurant down the street from my work.  The wind howled and the rain poured, but the restaurant was softly lit and warm. We laughed and talked, drank hot toddies, stuffed ourselves on gathered greens with crushed hazelnuts, a burger for me, and sausage lentil soup for her. 
( Read more... )