Notes from the studio…

let’s celebrate…

Yesterday, on my 52nd birthday, I woke up early and went into my studio to do some writing before Deena and the dogs were awake. I’ve been waking up a lot early. It’s the stories and the words and the ideas that have been stirring me in the wee hours when I should be sleeping. … Continue reading let’s celebrate…

discernment

A moth chooses when to fly by the pheromones of other moths drifting through the air, the direction of the wind, the innate sense that its wings are ripe and ready. A moth always aims for light. A moth knows that its sole (soul) purpose is to create before its time is up.   What if … Continue reading discernment

an intention chose me

It’s that time of year…  when we’re ready to let go of what’s trailing behind us from time gone by and launch ourselves into new intentions, goals, and resolutions. It’s a time for savoring our beloveds, envisioning how we want to show up in the world, awakening dreams that may have been dormant for a while.  I’m … Continue reading an intention chose me

the great shuffling up

It’s December… and I can already feel myself inhabiting my studio in a different way, one that speaks of hibernation, stewing, rediscovering my heart. I had the urge to rearrange the furniture, make a sunny spot for working, catty-corner my desk so that I can feel the warmth from my sweet little space heater/woodstove-wannabe while … Continue reading the great shuffling up

balance

There’s nothing like a day in the studio…. music turned up full blast, paints spread out all over the table, my sweet puppy Juniper growing more and more annoyed with me that I’m not playing with her. It’s been a while since I’ve put a whole lof of energy toward my art. I’ve been obsessed … Continue reading balance

these times

These are strange times, aren’t they? It seems only fitting that as the days get shorter and the leaves cascade into rivers of oranges and reds and browns that I would begin another blog, as it’s that time of year when I feel sentimental, inspired, and a little bit regretful, all at once. Especially after … Continue reading these times


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