I love film. The limits. The waiting. The not knowing. The colors and contrasts. The grain. The “accidents.” The rush.

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.

Everyday conversations: “I can’t breathe.”

I love this “challenge” and had to give it a go! To find an image I turned to The Getty Museum and navigated to the photography collection. Recreating this photo was unsurprisingly fun, but surprisingly challenging - in the best and most addicting way. For the next one, I collaborated with my daughter. She chose a Warhol portrait or Marilyn Monroe. At first, we planned to do a magazine cut out mouth, but then realized the missing teeth in her mug were too perfect :)

Here’s how it works:

1. Pic your artwork (lots of museums are opening up their collections online for this challenge: http://getty.edu/art/collection, https://www.metmuseum.org/, www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/rijksmuseum-pubquiz)

2. Use some items you have laying around home to recreate it.

3. Share  @tussenkunstenquarantaine, @gettymuseum, @Rijksmuseum #mettwinning #artwillsaveyou, #betweenartandquarantine, #tussenkunstenquarantaine

The Painter’s Wife (Helene Abelen), 1926, August Sander. The J. Paul Getty Museum. Copyright Paul Getty Trus

The Painter’s Wife, August Sander, recreated by Heather Brincko 2020

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.

Snapshots of Artist, Kim Obbink’s collections. Found, kept, arranged. Existing alive and dead at the same time. A PNW marine and botanical wonderland where subjects for her insanely beautiful drawings and paintings are culled. Go feast your eyes on her work at kimobbink.com

How can there be so much depth in such a small radius, in winter? Layers upon layers seemingly still, but shifting . The landscape spoke with a sly chuckle, “can you keep up?!” I screamed back through the silence, "I’m up on my toes and down on my knees, looking!” Not with my voice, but with my shutter. With my hands touching the frosty ground in the shadows and, just steps away, a warm rock in the sunlight.

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