“Nature” is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse— the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—
The Bobolink—the Sea—
Thunder—the Cricket—
Nay—Nature is Harmony—
Nature is what we know—
Yet have no art to say—
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity.

-Emily Dickinson

I haven’t posted anything here in a while because I have been in a bit of a creative dry spell. I am just now starting to paint and think about projects again. I’ve had some major setbacks over the past few years and life has taken some unexpected turns. But I am still here and I am still committed to my process and my path. Expect to see some new work soon…

Pisces Season. Collage in sketchbook. March 2018.

Growing downward

Be broken to be whole.
Twist to be straight.
Be empty to be full.
Wear out to be renewed.
Have little and gain much.
Have much and get confused.
So wise souls hold to the one,
and test all things against it.
Not showing themselves,
they shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
they’re accomplished.
Not competing,
they have in all the world no competitor.
What they used to say in the old days,
“Be broken to be whole,”
was that mistaken?
Truly, to be whole
is to return.
-Lao Tzu, Tao te Ching, Ursula Le Guin’s translation.
RIP Ms Le Guin <3

Sphere of the Moon

In the lobby of a luxury lunar hotel
we were serenaded and questioned
by the metal men of past futures
ready to embrace the city of dreams,
the great horizon

Happy New Year!

One of my annual traditions is making my New Year’s collage. This year I made two, this one and the one I posted yesterday. <3

2017 was an amazing, surprising, magical year for me in all of its ugliness and beauty. I’m so excited to see what 2018 has in store.  I wish everyone health, love, growth & creativity in the New Year. Onwards and upwards!

 

Awake

Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.

-Jim Morrison

VIII/XI

Cicada shell:
little did I know
it was my life.
-deathbed poem of Shuho (died in 1767), from Japanese Death Poems (1986)