Those fugitive dreams.
It’s always so nice to get new stuff to work with in the studio. As you may have read in a previous post, these panels arrived a few weeks ago. I’ve begun to try putting some paint on them. And as I’ve said many times before, when you’re not working on art every day, it can be hard to get the flow going again. I’m feeling that way right now. I’ve done quite a lot of staring at these over the past few days.
Collage is another story. I don’t seem to have the same trepidation when approaching collage. It’s always sheer pleasure, even if my first few attempts aren’t successful. I guess it’s because the medium is so forgiving.
Have you ever had a dream just before waking up, and just as you awaken, you remember it, but as soon as you move to get…
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Live unforgettable moments.
Cut up, cut up until I do.
Time spans the cliff between “I don’t remember.” and “I won’t.”
I’m at that point, following a recent move, where I’m not quite confident enough of our decision to move here, to drill holes in the wall, to hang the things that call our house, “home”; or bold enough to ask my landlady for permission to do it. Out on the shelves, forming general, house-move clutter and demarking the current perimeter of my life, are the things I would love to have back on my walls; a Ganesha we brought back from Darjeeling, a mirrored sconce that I painted with glass paint to represent the suites in my Hallowquest tarot deck; a tiny, brass, goat bell that links us back to our quinta, 10 years ago and Poppy, our first goat experience.
Some of the other items that ended up on the shelves are my tarot workbooks, my old photo albums, a bag of seeds for planting, my Reverence Valada bag and mirrored bag (bought at Boom Festival 2004) that contain my current knitting work in progress. Notably absent – there are no art materials and there has been no art of any sort since we arrived here.
The title of this blog refers to this blog episode I am listening to: