A little bit waxy, a little bit sticky, totally veiny and peeling off in the most wonderful shapes, pojagi voices whispered as I peeled tomatillo skins, “get the thread!” A twisting and delicious adventure in cooking and art unfolded for days.

Take a relaxing breath and listen to this story about how art was made on a recent Monday morning.

A while ago, I pulled some photographs and paintings out of my uncle’s (davidkingartist.com) trash. I heard one singing to me from a bin in my studio the other day. Then, my pile of stained tea wrappers joined in the chorus. And finally, I turned to my sewing machine to provide a beat.

My Aunt Patti’s Pojagi work providing heavy influence, I stitched the wrappers to the painting following ghostlike lines from the painting beneath, along wrinkles and edges. Whatever felt right.

Once it felt finished, I flipped it over and after a moment spent with hands on hips, I grabbed my watercolors and filled in the stitched patterns. It was hard not to peek, but my hope that paint was bleeding through the holes left by the sewing needle came true. Beautiful blots of color had joined variations of brown and a reversible painting was born.

The End.

There are a lot of spills in our house. So many that I started a series on my instagram feed called #spilloftheday. The images rarely receive many “likes, ” but when people see me in real life, this is the series they talk about. The series they say makes their day.

I wish I could blame the kids for the spill, but a lot come from me. As a often overly self-critical person, I have had to work very hard not to be frustrated with myself over things like spills. Mindfulness and children have taught me to laugh and admire the beauty in a spill instead.

Last night, we looked out the window to admire the sunset and saw this massive spill unfolding.

One could be mad about such a thing (seriously, how did they get all that water out there without anyone noticing!! And the chalk? Not ours. Magically appeared!)

OR

one could notice the colors, contrast, wet vs dry, the kid’s inhibitions in creating/experimenting, the strange conversations and other sounds.

One can laugh. A LOT.

For me, spills are an opportunity to be mindful, to enjoy serendipity, to join in and play/create without expectations. This one was not to be missed. I ran downstairs and grabbed my big girl camera and enjoyed every minute of capturing it.

Sure there are places you can go with tables that have all the tools and piles of shrubbery, but - in my opinion - finding your own way (and stumbling a bit) is so much more fun! I especially love trampling through the forest/garden to find clippings, gathering twigs etc and finding other winter treasures (like the glowing orange fungi below!!!)

Anyhoo, below are some clues for wreath-making from this non-professional. Good luck and have fun on your adventure!!

Found glowing up from a dark, soggy stump! OOOOOH :)

We found GOOOOOOOOOLLLLLDDDD!!!!! :)

Also, glowing from the darkness!!

Ok, on to wreath construction:

Supplies: Something to cut with (official clippers would probably work better), something to bang down the spikes (I tried pliers, hammer worked better), tree and plant cuttings (seek out little bits of color. Dead stuff looks good too!), wreath frame with spiky things.

Warning: Do not wear soft soled slippers for this activity. Ouch!!

Make two types of bouquets. Theoretically, you’re supposed to keep this pattern, but I always forget what I’m doing and the world does not end.

Lay bouquet 1 diagonally facing outward from the frame. Hammer down the spikes to hold it in place.

Lay bouquet 2 diagonally facing inward. Hammer down spikes. Repeat all the way around.

We turned on some music and scribbled (6B water soluble graphite stick - basically a big fat pencil) to give some overexposed polaroids new life.

A week after my Aunt passed away, I found myself on Harstene Island with a heaviness. It felt like I was standing in a muddy hole. Not a deep one, but my body was so heavy that I couldn’t climb out. It was dark and damp. Moving was the only way out. It wasn’t easy, but I took a step and I picked up a rock, then a leaf, some grass. I looked up and saw roses. I reached for one, cut it, and put it in my pocket. I grabbed another. A thorn left a small scratch on my arm. Ouch. I started noticing more things. Bright green moss. Curly reddish brown - my favorite color - madrone bark. Things started to feel less dark. I dumped them out on a bench, organized them and then just… started moving things around.

How to make art with nature:

Step 1: Go for a walk. Gather some shit (not literally. leaves, rocks, sticks, dirt etc…)

Step 2: Move shit around while thinking of (choose one of the following or insert your own)

• Someone you miss

• Someone you love

• A feeling

• A problem

• Nothing at all

I used to look forward to smores when camping, but now it’s this. Intuition switches on and, like a magnet, the forest provides materials. They bend and shape as if it’s what they were made to do. Sometimes they snap, flip, fall. That’s part of the fun and challenge. This took me all day and I returned to it at different times of day to admire shifting light and shapes. Ahhhhhh. I can still feel the sense of accomplishment even though I left it behind weeks ago. This one reminds me of the gigantic spider sculptures by Louise Bourgeois and that makes me smile a lot.

Today, I had a little help building a nest on the beach from my friends, which was really cool!  Michelle was tentative at first - she didn't want to "break it." It's hard to break something you have no plan for, ha! So no worries there. Plus, my favorite part is when things fall apart.

A twig breaks, then another and another. After some time, I figure out which ones are brittle and which aren't. If they are all brittle, I have to figure out ways to make them work. Sometime the whole damn thing crumbles to the ground (profanity follows) - repeatedly - forcing me to rebuild and look at the whole project in a new way. It's so fun. It started to pour today, but I couldn't stop. I spent almost 3 hours building this sucker and enjoyed every minute.

Painting #20 in this series. We live on opposite coasts, but our bond can never be broken.