ps.

I'm not in the mental salt flats anymore. Actually, it's a place I left quite some time ago, but I've been too busy catching up with myself and creating to write about it.

I'm enjoying this space within myself. Internal blossoming is taking place.

More words one of these days soon. And until then, you can find me happily painting in a dog-filled, sun-drenched studio.

Namaste,
j.

in the mental salt flats...

Every once in a while--well, actually, on a pretty regular basis--I think of this place. I consider coming here and sitting for awhile. I think about the notion of setting my thoughts down somewhere. I consider taking the time to delve beneath the surface and make sense of something.

But I don't. I haven't. At least not here.

Instead, I sometimes go to my journal. The one made of paper. And, more times than that, I don't even do that.

Life is strange these days. The hobbit castle has been under construction for nearly a month. Once it's finished, construction will soon move to my studio. I don't know what's worse. The big willow tree in our front yard fell down. It fell on a perfectly breathless morning. It was the heart of our home. A true day off feels like a distant dream. A blur of falling green.

These days, the world feels a bit off kilter. It feels a bit white. And flat. And strange.

I also understand that it's a necessary part of the journey and, if I just allow it to be what it is, I think I'll probably find something really interesting and beautiful on the other side of the current terrain. Heck, I'll probably find that in this current landscape--right here, right now. This, of course, requires a certain amount of presence.

A pause. Or flow. A letting go.

This is just a momentary blip--like the time I drove through the salt flats of Utah for the very first time. It was night. The moon was full. Everything was so surreal and flat and white. There was magic in that discomfort and momentary confusion.

Maybe if I just quit fighting with myself so much...I would find strange magic here, too.

~

Being Dramatic :: {Project 44}

Being Dramatic :: {Project 44}

60" x 40" :: Oil on Canvas :: Photo of work in progress

This is a sneak peek of my most favorite painting to date (early stages).
It's big. It's dramatic. It felt amazing to paint.

If you live in the Minneapolis area, I invite you to see the finished piece at the
Dogs of Edina exhibition at the Galleria, May 6th-31st, 2010.


For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.
~

Grow :: {Project 44}

Grow :: {Project 44}
Not just a mug, but a daily reminder of the potential in everything.

In living life fully, completely, wholeheartedly...
let's face it, growth is simply inevitable.

"People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can't find them make them."

~George Bernard Shaw

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

Feline Rhapsody :: {Project 44}

Feline Rhapsody :: {Project 44}
photo shoots with animals that I fall in love with...

...this was just one of the colorful gifts from my day.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

She is Living Her Dream :: {Project 44}

She is Living Her Dream :: {Project 44}
Studio fuse box reminder

Sometimes, while standing at my workbench in the studio, I look up and see this magnet that I stuck on the dirty ol' fuse box that graces the wall...and I remember.

I am living my dream.

Despite grunge and dog hair...
this is one incredible dream.
:)

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.
~

Friendship :: {Project 44}

I sat down this morning, with a fresh cup of coffee, opened up my email and this is what I found:

One day years ago a woman found my blog and left me a comment that said something like I have a dog named Anu and I love samosas. Ever since that day those woman's words have resonated so much with me that I thought somewhere along the way we were supposed to cross paths. I miss her writing, but know that her absence in the blog world is due to all the amazing things happening in her life. I have this hope that one day we will meet and become friends. Tonight I was excited to come across her words and images again and I read them and thought about all the things in my life I'm holding back from doing because I'm afraid. And I look at her blog and think here is a living example of a woman taking the dream she had in her mind and making it appear in her daily life. I'm wondering what would happen if I did what she said and got out of my own way.

~from Anu, of Samosas For One

Friendship :: {Project 44}
Studio moment: Anu, my smiling wolfie...looking up at me as I paint.

Well, with that, here's to all the Anu's in the world. Here's to the fearless, smiling wolf in each of us. Here's to being brave on a regular basis. Here's to good friends. Here's to support and encouragement. And, of course, here's to remembering that getting out of our own way is an on-going process.

Because the thing about living our dreams is that it pushes and nudges and challenges us in ways that sometimes we can't even imagine. Growth doesn't stop with the first bloom, rather it's just the beginning! It's exhaustive, really. But once we've tasted the good life of turning dreams into a tangible substance, well...there's really no going back. And that's the real danger.

There's just no turning back.
The gifts of authenticity are irrevocable.

And so thank god for good friends along the way.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

Workaholic :: {Project 44}

Hi, my name is Jessie. Is it possible that I'm a workaholic?

Don't answer that.

~

Sunday Studio, Sunshine Version :: {Project 44}

There's only one thing I want to do today: and that is to paint in beams of sunlight.

Sunny Canvas :: {Project 44}
Stretching canvases. Raw beauty.

Sunny Workbench :: {Project 44}
Filling Etsy orders with Brilliant Red Happiness and Art for Dogs.

Echo in Edina :: Sunshine Version {Project 44}
Oil on Canvas, Completed Painting.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.

~

Introducing :: {Project 44}

I've come to the realization that there is just not enough of me to go around. I've also decided that, despite my intense schedule over the next month and a half, blogging is not something I want to give up. After all, I am a blogger. I like blogging and I want to continue. This blog has become a record of my life since 2004, but I've nearly disappeared from this space over the past several months. I hate to see that happen and, well, I want back in.

This space grounds me. It is the more intricate, yet simple parts of myself. I blog to stay connected--to both my interior self and to the tribe of like-minded souls that I have found here. I blog because it adds depth and dimension to my days. It helps me to understand, to let go, to process, to remember. I blog because it helps me to more deeply experience my journey.

These days my path has led me to an art-filled life. I am thriving. My art is thriving. My spirit is thriving. And in the midst of all this thriving, I find myself consumed by the tasks of preparing for my biggest solo exhibition to date. It is exciting and overwhelming all in one fell swoop.

In 44 days I will be given the keys to more than 2,000 square feet of gallery space and nearly enough wall space to go from one end of a football field to the other. This is my life in hyper-speed.

And yet...I find myself wanting to record these days, to take the time to slow down just long enough to capture my daily experiences, even if only in the fraction of a second unveiled by the click of my camera lens.

{Project 44} is made up of bits and pieces of me, of my day, of the world that surrounds me. It is made up of the 44 days from now until I begin hanging my next show on May 2nd, 2010. It is my life as an artist, dog lover, writer, coffee drinker, and person. It might be haphazard--a few words or a sentence, an image, a moment, a canvas in process--it will be made up of whatever I have to offer on any particular day. Whether my day be haggard or inspired or a little bit of both. These are simply glimpses of me: intimate and real.

Welcome to {Project 44}

Studio 3/20 :: {Project 44}
Day NUMERO UNO of Project 44 and a peek into my studio.
Finally putting the finishing touches on the second panel of a painting I started nearly a year ago.

Spring Vineyard Unveiled 3/20 :: {Project 44}
Vineyard life: Finally, the many feet of snow has melted and the vineyard, once again, is revealed.

For more glimpses:
{Project 44} on Flickr
Visit my website at www.StrayDogArts.com

Follow me on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/jessie.marianiello
and become a Facebook fan of Stray Dog Arts.
~

catching up... POST #1000!!

Hello, old friends. It is time. Time for a new blog post because the world is whisking by me once again and there is only me to decide when to put my foot down and stop myself for just one holy second and say HELLO! :)

It is a sunny morning outside. The dogs are asleep on the couch and I have a growing to-do list in my head. These days, life is in full bloom. Hell, I even have roots busting out of the bottom of my metaphorical flower pot and we still have 4 feet of snow!

For now, let me just say that I'm here. I'm here and am preparing for my biggest show ever. I'm here and am venturing into one of the biggest and scariest and most exciting moments of my artistic career so far.

I would like to start blogging more again. Perhaps I'll just write short ditties. I've been getting good at that on Facebook. Just something to record this journey--and all its highs and lows. Believe me, there are many of them!

Recently I've been granted a 2,000 square foot gallery space in one of the most upscale locations in the Minneapolis area for the month of May. No charge, with massive marketing as an added perk. I'm also working with a long list of businesses that will be creating events throughout the month around my artwork. If ever I've been given a chance to grow as an artist, a business, and a person...it is now. Holy crap--and I think I'm gonna need a seat belt.

I never in a million years expected my life to look like this. Yesterday I found out that I did not get a major fellowship that I had applied for. I have to admit that I really wanted it. $50,000. It was going to solve a lot of problems and give me some much needed artistic freedom. Despite the MAJOR odds, a wildly self-confident part of me was expecting to get it. But no. Nope. Not this time. Instead I got a rejection letter from them. The rest of the mail included several thank you cards from clients. These cards went way beyond thoughtful. I wanted to lay down in the snow and cry and laugh all at the same time. Ok, I admit, I did...but I waited until I got to the studio and did it there instead. I realized that I can make my life look any way I want it to. In just one day so many things happen.

Lately, every day has been filled to the gills with new opportunities and struggles, all at the same time! I've decided that success is coming...but I think I'm better off not having any expectations on HOW it's going to get here. This wild and surreal life. Sometimes it is an interesting challenge just to get out of my own way.

Peace sista friends.
j.

Upon waking...

The result of last night's magic-in-the-making.

~

from the studio to the house at night...

Nearly 1 am and I've just finished a painting. Tight shoulders, heavy eyes, a mug full of "Tranquil Dream" tea sitting to my left. I kinda like working late at night, although my body does not agree. Upon leaving the studio, the first thing I do is look for coyotes standing in the shadows. I've yet to meet one eye to eye, but they are alive and well, living in the woods just beyond our house. I hear them often, but not so much since the deep snows came. Tonight, rather than coyotes, I was surprised a thick mist that filled the air above me, like a plume. It came from out of nowhere and, immidiately clung thickly to the branches and pine needles of the trees. In the two minutes that it takes me to walk from my studio to the house, it happened. Instantaneous.

I do not doubt that this strange night magic is the result of so much snow, another warm day and then a quick drop in temperature. Even so, explanations never seem to detract from the unexpected phenomenon of the night.

Lately, it seems that being outside at night is when my exterior environment feels most unexplored. In the process, my interior environment takes on a much desired newness. I feel a deep need to travel, but without the means or time to do so, I'm beginning to feel a bit cagey. At night though, everything feels different. It feels adventurous, a delicious sense of danger in the winter air and dark shadows. The crystalline edges of things, like the space around the stars, feels sharper. The crunch of snow is more audible, as though one can hear the breaking of each tiny crystal. Being outside in the cold stillness of night draws out another side of things--revealing unexpected beauties, little mysteries--the invisible is made visible. Air turns to ice. In the walk between studio and home, I feel my thoughts sneak out of my skull for just a moment... and it is refreshing.

I'm greeted at the door of the house by sleepy dogs, warmth and a hungry cat. In two minutes, worlds apart.

~

Barometric mysteries...

Last night I stood outside under an inky black sky and reveled at the cascade of glitter that hung above me from the branches of our old willow tree. I used to be a florist and remember the bunch of holiday artificials that we had in boxes--dipped in glitter, their long flexible branches were meant to simulate some semblance of a winter wonderland. I stood there feeling amazed that the world we live in really is made of such wonderment. That is, if we choose to see it, if we take time to notice it.

This morning when I woke up, those same branches out my window were covered in nearly an inch of glitter. Some strange barometric mystery took place during the night--something that caused our entire world to be coated in a thick coat of magic. Looking out over the frozen pond and beyond, I am a bit mesmerized by the layers of beauty in the snow globe that I just happen to live in.

Today my dog Louie and I have a photoshoot in downtown Minneapolis for an upcoming feature article. I'm excited and a bit nervous all at once. I have to bring my youngest dog, Ella, with also. Vinny is out out of town on a business trip and I won't have an assistant to help me with the handling of 2 young dogs, downtown parking, a five foot painting and a big easel. It sometimes amazes me how I constantly find myself just outside of my comfort zone. It's an interesting feeling. This sort of discomfort combined with such extreme morning beauty...strange alchemical combinations. Sometimes life feels sort of surreal.

At the moment, my world is unusually quiet. These past couple weeks I have done a lot of untangling in my life. I'm still untangling. Mostly in the form of clutter and financial paperwork. I found an incredible bookkeeper, Jessica Reagan Salzman of Heart Based Bookkeeping, who I am looking forward to venturing into 2010 with--both as an accountant and a money coach. I have been wishing to find someone like her for such a long time now. It goes to show that one should never give up on their wishes. Sometimes the right person, the right place, the right circumstances...it all takes time. In overcoming my fear of numbers and money, I've needed someone like Jessica to work alongside me. Someone who understands. Someone who gets it. Someone skilled at the fine art of weaving love and numbers.

Every day feels like a lesson in bravery. I wake up, unclench my teeth and begin again. Last night I went over to the studio late and drew out the canvases of three dogs: Sadie, Chloe and Scout. I haven't picked up my paint brushes since finishing my last commissioned portrait that was delivered for Christmas. The break has been wonderful and necessary. I've accomplished a lot in these last two weeks. But for the past couple days I've been feeling my heart reaching for color and paint and canvas. If I go for too long without painting I feel a strange ungrounding. The glitter in the trees gets too glittery and I find myself seeking the sunshine and solidness of my studio floors.

Today will be made up of camera lights, paperwork and paint--a fine combination, if you ask me. Solidly rooted under glittering trees. Today expands and grows.

~

Little Miracles...

I woke up this morning to snow and wind. A lovely combination, actually--especially when you have a nice big mug of coffee with cream. The wind is made even more enjoyable by the fact that we were about to run out of water again. Wind! I have grown to love it. Our water is gravity fed from a well, which we fill by turning on our incredibly out-dated windmill that stands at the top of the hill on the edge of the vineyard. It's quaint, actually. We just weren't aware of how problematic it would be. Or maybe this year the wind has just been exceptionally still. I don't know and I don't care. Mostly, I just love the way the wind makes those blades spin, causing the pump to respond in a miraculous up and down motion.

And with that little description I just need to take a moment and say: Wow, I've missed writing here. I know...I seem say that every time I finally sit down to blog. The the feeling is truly as satisfying as drawing water into a nearly dry well.

For the past 10 days I have been working diligently on bringing order, understanding and growth into my life. After we moved this summer, I got sick and then, before I knew it, nearly 6 months passed and I still hadn't unpacked my office! That in itself seems sort of crazy. I mean, how did my life get so freakishly busy? My business exploded. It has been incredible and yet...well, I was quickly running myself into the ground and the state of my office was driving me crazy.

After delivering my last commissioned painting for Christmas, I hit the much needed "pause" button in order to give my attention to a few behind-the-scenes necessities. Things like paper work and the state of my office, pricing and other works in progress. The change around me has been extraordinary. For the first time since moving, my office space actually feels calm. My cats love it so much, they won't leave and, often, I find myself surrounded by the soft sleeping breathing of my animal menagerie. It is a supremely comforting feeling. It grounds me. Even my collection of found rocks and old wooden crates (which I've converted into bookshelves) feels comforting. I thought I wouldn't be happy until I had new flooring and new cabinets and new this and perfect that. Turns out I was wrong. The things in this room hold warmth. They hold my history. They hold the pieces of me that bring me back to center. The sheepskin thrown across the seat of a chair, the rich silk textiles that I brought back home with me from India, my books, a wedding photo of Vinny and I, the soft glow of lamplight...yes, this feels like me. And it feels good.

Granted, this has been a huge process and I still have more ahead of me. Going through so many boxes and pile after pile of paperwork sort of made my brain feel like it was being dragged across a bed of nails. Now I've moved on to the thing that has given me more fear than anything else: financial paperwork. Wowzers. And it won't stop there.

All I can say is that it's happening. It's finally happening. I don't know what took me so long to finally work up the courage to take control of these aspects of my life, but I am relieved to finally be doing it--even if I have to nudge myself forward over and over again. I hear myself chanting to myself in the back of my head and am impressed by the level of support I give myself. For the most part my brain is acting like my very own guardian angel. Or maybe I really do have a spirit guide sending little whispers of support and motivation. Forward movement requires a bit of discipline and, yet, if there is one thing that the past two years has taught me it is discipline. Along with discipline, what I'm really learning now are the virtues of self-care.

Two years ago I began the Be Brave Project and started on a journey towards a life that I never in a million years dreamed of. These days I find myself in the midst of beginning this journey all over again. It's time to start taking risks again. Not just the little kind, but the sort that makes me feel a few butterflies; the kind that makes my face go a bit flush. Change requires risk-taking. You would think that it would be easier this time around. After all, I've proven to myself that I can make anything happen when I really want it. Oh, man(!)...but it is still so incredibly scary! Brave souls, we need to band together.

These days I am taking it one step at a time. Lots and lots of little steps. In an odd way, even taking time to blog is one of those little steps. This new beginning, it's a package deal. There is something for me on the other side of this--and I'm simply too curious to stop now.

~

Dear Self,

Write a blog post soon. Writing misses you.

with love,
Language

~

Merry Christmas from our hobbit castle to yours!

The Bicicletta, Italian cocktails anyone?

Charlie Brown, we love you.

A cozy snowy Christmas Eve in our hobbit castle.

with love,
The Marianiello's

~

35 :: {My Year of Relief and Happiness}

{click on images to see the oh so delicious details}

I've decided to dub this year 35th year of my life as "My Year of Relief and Happiness." And I have a feeling that there is going to be some wonderful change ahead.

I didn't start out feeling this way about turning 35. To be honest, I haven't felt much of anything about it. It's been just another blurry thought on this freight train called my life. I've been thinking about what I want this year to be about for a few days now. I started making a tradition out of this a couple years ago and didn't see any reason to stop now. However, this year, my thoughts on the topic did not start out with much optimism. I've been exhausted and should have known better than to try and define my coming year in such a state of disrepair. The only words I seemed to come up with were things like "burden" or "responsibility" or "getting by." Good god, can you say depressing?! Eeeerch! The brakes needed to be put on those thoughts. Pronto!

I firmly believe in the power of our thoughts and I am simply NOT ok with the idea of attracting a burdensome year. I'm much too good at attracting things to play around with a dangerous word like "burden." And so I did the smart thing and asked myself: What is the opposite word of burden? What came to mind was "Relief." Oh, now I like that word. I like that word a lot. It feels good. I can sink my teeth into that one. It feels like something I can believe in. It feels realistic, possible. I can wrap my head around it. For such a simple little word, it also feels immensely powerful.

My life is fully ready for a little bit of relief. But wait a minute. Relief all by itself sort of sits with a flat feeling in my mouth and limbs. I don't need all the hoopla that I was seeking at 33 and 34, but I would like to include some sunshine, sparkles and a smile that radiates from the inside out. Relief is good, but I think I'd like to top it off with a nice sized dose of happiness when all is said and done.

When I told my husband, Vinny, about this, he was a little worried that I might be asking for too much. He also believes in the power of our thoughts, but usually leaves the magic-making up to me. He also tends to be a bit conservative when it comes to reaching for the stars. Adding happiness onto a request for relief--is this asking for too much? I don't think so. After all, why limit ourselves? We are, after all, our own biggest limiting factor. I've decided to add a little bit of whipped cream to my coffee. Goodness on top of good. Why not?

Relief means quite a few things to me. It means getting my shiite in order. It means finally finishing the unpacking from our move this summer. It means having time to be human. It means limiting my workload to a manageable amount. It is relief from the endless pressure of work and bills and the toxic combination they can sometimes create. I love the work I do, inside and out, but these 12-18 hour days just can't go on forever. Period. Relief looks like a big fat fellowship and a backup plan to live sanely, whether I get the fellowship or not. Relief will include facing my fears head on. Heck, even joyously. It means breaking a few self-destructive patterns. It also means finding out what, exactly, those patterns are. I'm hereby mining them out of the naivety of my subconscious and exposing them to the light of day. It means taking a deep breath and then embarking on the necessary steps to reach my goals. One thing at a time. One action at a time. One day at a time. One thought at a time. It will be made up of knowing when to say yes--and also when to say no. It will be made up of knowing when to push--and also knowing when to relax.

Last year my words of the year were "Wild Bloom." They were inspired by a photo and a story that my coach and dear friend Jamie Ridler shared with me during a coaching session. Holy taledo, and did my year ever go WILD with BLOOM!!! Things bloomed so fast and feriously that it's a miracle I didn't spontaneously burst into flame! Of course, life never looks like we expect it to. Nope. And sometimes not even at all. Anyway, despite difficulties, 34 was a good year of blooming all to pieces. But, I'll admit: I'm exhausted. And I am really, really, really ready for some relief, topped off with just the right amount of happiness.

Today I celebrated my birthday by taking the entire day off. I can't even tell you how good it felt. To be honest, this is the best day that I've had in a really long time. I took a couple naps, read, snacked on delicious food, played in the snow and generally relaxed to the nth degree. Did I mention that we were snowed in? I also created a vision board to help guide me confidently into this 35th year. And, by gosh, I really love the way it looks.


I get the feeling that this is going to be an especially good year. In big ways--but in nice, quiet sort of ways. I can already feel my heart nestle in a little bit more comfortably in my chest and the tension in my shoulders drop down a notch. This year I have a different kind of faith. It's called: faith in myself. I also have faith in the kindness of the Universe. I have faith in love, authentic work, and gentleness. I have faith in passion--and this year I'm not afraid to adjust the flame as needed.

Today I woke up in a snow cave. After a big snow-storm, our world has turned into a surreal landscape of drifting white. It felt like someone hit the "shift" button and I'm grateful because I needed to get snowed in. I needed to relax. I needed to spend some time with my dreams and the hush quiet of this newly white blanketed world.

And so here's to Relief and Happiness. It all its strange forms--both expected and unexpected.
Here's to wishing with our whole spirit.

Hello 35.
:)

~

Random thoughts on a Sunday Morning

Sitting in front of my computer trying to get my wits about me, I figured I might as well write a blog post rather than starring like at idiot an my email, Facebook, and Twitter pages. Blarg. I'm shaking cobwebs out of my brain with a cup of coffee--or more--and then it's off to the dog painting factory. ha!

Ok, I'm just kidding about the factory comment, but today I will be mounting about 200 prints and painting 10 display frames. Stray Dog Arts has gone wholesale, baby! Not sure if it's a blessing or a curse. Well, it's definitely a blessing, but my lack of an assistant feels like a bit of a curse. Thought I had finally found someone one, but the timing (at least when I need it most) is off. (Dear Universe, please send me the right person).

The pond has hereby frozen over for good, complete with a dusty layer of snow. The sky is bright and blue, the air colder than ever. I've fallen in love with my new blue leg-warmers because they feel cozy and look good with my painting apron.

I'm going to be 35 in three days. I'm not sure what this means except that my metabolism will probably slow down. 33 and 34 were really special years for me. 34 threw enough monkey wrenches at me that I've decided that it will be ok if I somehow just simply enjoy and survive whatever the next year has to offer. I want my wild optimism back, but maybe it would be better for me to chill the hell out and just relish the small bits of life as they're offered to me.

To me, 35 feels like a big shipment from Dick Blick: daunting and full of possibility all at once. Did I mention that large UPS and FedX shipments are a new addition to my life? I've finally become like the girl in Cast Away (you know, the movie with Tom Hanks?). I even wrote a blog post about it here about a year ago and look how it's manifested itself! (please bear with the randomness of my brain) Like that girl, I'm the artist who lives beyond the crossroads and down a really long dirt driveway. I have an old garage/workshop rather than a barn, but the feeling is the same. Yes, I'm romanticizing my situation quite a bit, but this is a necessity in order to survive the otherwise endless pile of work sitting in front of me. Life is good and yet it doesn't feel like anything I was expecting.

Cup of coffee #2 required.

Signing off with peace and love,
j.

~

December 1

It feels amazing to me that today is the first day of December. The pond has frozen over in a fragile sheath of ice for the first time this year. It's been a process of freezing, starting at the edges, and has been going on for weeks. But this morning it has finally found its way across the entire surface.

I love the pond outside our house. It reminds me of Thoreau and a favorite quote:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

This is a quote that I have lived my life by. I came across it in high school and have made many decisions in its echo since.

It seems surreal to me that it's already been 4 months since we moved from the middle of a city to the almost-middle-of-nowhere. We moved at the end of July. In mid-August I got really sick with Rocky Mountain spotted fever (most definitely the strangest illness I've every acquired!). I had to drop everything for an entire month--the unpacking, painting, my work. Everything. That was difficult for me to do. I am pretty hard-driven and to be stopped in my tracks is not something I'm very good at. Not to mention, my schedule was already packed to the gills. Those lost weeks were not something I had to spare. From there it was a domino effect in trying to catch up. A big solo exhibition, many events, two major projects, and a handful of commissions later...here we are taking our first step into December. Time is a tricky monkey. It's gone from July to December in one fell swoop. Blink! This must be how it happens, how we grow old. This is how one day we wake up and we're 90, remembering how young we felt when we were 35. All I can say is: dang. I hope I live to be a 1,000.

And so today I drink my coffee out of an especially fragile cup. Some days I prefer the thickness of hand-thrown ceramic. Other days, like today, I prefer the fragility of fine china. I think it says something about how I'm going to approach my day. Sometimes I put on my old jeans, a sweater and boots and dig into my day with a full heart. Other days I like to move more deliberately. I like paying attention to the delicate surface tension that stretches itself across the pond, a fine combination of stretched lace and glass. Who knows, by mid-afternoon I might switch to that heavy ceramic mug, but for now I am content with the subtle features of the morning.

There are so many things to share and catch up with you in the space of this blog. Photos, stories, events, paintings...they wait in files on my computer and in my head and on my camera. But, for now, here is just a little slice of one moment out of one morning. This is my life as an artist. And, this morning, it is a life lived deliberately.

Here's to a December filled with a life worth living.

ps.
Photo taken by my husband, Vinny, this past weekend. Sitting at my computer in the studio with my wolfie girl, Anu, contentedly asleep at my feet (if only she were in the photo, too!).

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