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!!
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
Nothing at all
See that little black fuzz on the floor? My favorite pair of socks decided to disintegrate all over the house at a family photoshoot on Sunday. Somehow we decided it was "toe jam" and played with it for over an hour; jamming it in between toes, tossing it in the air, hiding it in pockets, in hair, giving it funny voices, making it jump around. We laughed so hard. This type of play is pretty much my favorite thing in the whole world. Not to mention, it made for some amazing photographs. It doesn't take much, folks!
My niece picked up a hula hoop yesterday and rocked it with apparent ease, a big ol' satisfied smile across her face as it went round and round. Of course, it eventually wobbled its way down around her ankles, but she picked it back up - her grin never fading - and gave it another go. In my head I was thinking, "she's so talented." Outloud I said, "I don't have the hips for it."
Then, I remembered all the conversations with people I've had along the same vein about art and reminded myself I'd never given hula hoop more than a couple minutes before losing patience with myself.
With hula hoop, the apparatus has to be available. My niece has access to one, felt that spark, and practiced practiced practiced (also, I've seen her grandma rock a hoop too and grandmas are pretty much the greatest source of spark in the whole world).
The amazing thing about art is the apparatus is everywhere. You can draw in the dirt with a stick, dig through the garbage for sculpture or collage pieces (you don't even need scissors you can just tear!) and things to draw on, bend sticks into nests, stack rocks, paint with just about anything that leaves a stain or scrape and on and on. The only barrier to entry is a big dumb brain that says you must produce something breathtaking for Instagram or some other purpose. Shut that thing off and enjoy the process! That's what it's about.
Next time I'm around a hula hoop I will remind myself that.
Hilda's very soul cringed as the photographer shouted "smile!"
I felt like my mind was constantly going "snap, snap, snap" (camera sound) every step I took in Colorado Springs. We hiked Red Rock Canyon , drove through Garden of the Gods, ventured up (it was uphill both ways somehow?) to School Pond Trail in a thunderstorm, and drove around town picking up magical crystals on the way home. Snap, snap, snap. I've obviously been deprived color in Seattle; the green seemed to jump off the red sand. Boundless beauty and inspiration.