Thursday, 28 October 2010

grey watercolour days

These grey days of late October still hold some surprises if one only stops and looks a little closer.

At first glance I thought this shot was of the trees reflected in our little creek
 until I remembered that it was a closeup of a tree trunk.  I fooled myself!

Yes, the colours are more subdued... muted.... but the palette is simply more sophisticated.

Yet there is brilliance right underfoot in these starbursts of moss.

And the wild strawberry leaves make still another tapestry.

Golden flies gather sustenance from wild asters; even they become focal points of beauty.

Yes, these grey days do add a depth of colour that make our late-blooming chrysanthemums and dill glow.

And so, a little muted myself, pulling colour off the dried edges of a used water container,
I salvage enough for this dazed little lady, and find the next day that she is the inspiration
 for some new work in fabric and stitch that I will show you next time.

Look for the subtle message in the greyest days.
 It may lay muted but its glowing ember can turn into a fire.


Wednesday, 20 October 2010

meaning and creation

We are  so caught up by our senses, such a visual species are we.  Of course, some thrive on music and others on talk, and, as social creatures, can feel it quite necessary to their very being. 
 What does that leave?  Touch, smell, taste.
  How lovely it is to connect with our senses, and then overlay them with meaning.

Yes, meaning. That which fills the soul.

Meaning can also mean "definition".  And isn't that perfect, for how do we define ourselves?
By what measure?  One can use Relative Truth to define or give meaning to oneself: 
the truth of what appears to be
or one can use Absolute Truth in whch exists the inherent nature of everything.

I think that, like fibre and collage artist, Lenore Tawney,  meaning in life is like "creation ...a defiance of ordinary verbal communication.  Its origins lie in the ineffable part of one's own being and are much closer to the silence of the universe than to its noises and verbalizations. Art is always just beyond language.  Each work, seems to be called up from a bottomless chaos and despite the magic order it finds in the artist's creation, retains always the memory of the original chaos to which it is destined to return. [One] of deep insight knows that authentic life is not lived arbitrarily but is governed by a secret mesh of invisible images [ absolute truth]" 

And therefore it is all one.  We are all one. 

We must be patient, above all with ourselves.
Then we will find that Wisdom and Compassion are indivisible
for, in fact, Compassion is Wisdom reaching out.


Monday, 18 October 2010

new banner new doll


And here it is, that surprise I was anticipating . Such fun.  I hope you like the new banner as much as I do.  It was actually created months ago but I guess it was waiting for the right time to be born into this dimension.

  Maybe this strange painting doesn't look like it, but I'm in quite a celebratory mood and eager to try
                                                                         something new.

So along the same line, this little one came out.

And then, for a little variety, I tried some drybrush
 along with a watercolour wash for a lovely print quality I think.

All in all, it's been a satisfying day.

You may remember this little guy I first showed you in early June,
a linen Lavender Legs doll I made  in May.

And his sister, Lucille, who followed soon after.

Well, this Lavender Legs sweetie got her finishing touch, some eyelashes, this morning,
and she's ready for her debut.

A most gratifying day.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if every day could be like that.  And yet we have only to look in our hearts to find it waiting there, like a patient friend, the sweetest gift of all.



Wednesday, 13 October 2010

autumn is late afternoon

It's always later than I think;   I always hope to post sooner, but the clock keeps ticking.
 " the best laid plans of mice and men gang oft astray..."  and suddenly the leaves are off the trees!
I caught myself calling out  "No, no, no!" at one point as I ran for my camera to catch the leaves falling in great masses to the ground, as if they all agreed to " JUMP NOW".

As I compiled these following pictures from the mass I photographed, I thought about how the seasons seem to have their time of day.  For me, autumn is always about late afternoon.

 There's something about the light, the golden light...

And the irresistably pungent smell of fallen leaves. 
 Here the baby bracken rise again from the summer mown lawn.

Vermillion blackberry leaves against a bright carpet of moss.

It's not just a shot of red and yellow leaves but a million colours if you only stop and look.

Or maybe a billion!

It's the season that makes our vinyl Barbie doll box of a house look romantic and inviting.

How I already miss it.

And so, except for stacking some more firewood and raking leaves, I will be sequestered more and more indoors.  The reprieve from the rain and cold is over.  Ah , bittersweet autumn.

 I will show you a picture of the doll I have been working on and another surprise in my next entry.

Wishing you the sweetness without the bitter, and gratitude for a zillion blessings.

Sunday, 3 October 2010

these precious fleeting days

These precious fleeting days.

Somehow the very small seems spectacular.

I hear the gurgling of water in the creek and an answer from pirouetting leaves as they touch the ground punctuated by little birds that rustle through the forage.

I find myself reminding those that miss the sun how rich the colours are without it.

And even imperfections are suddenly more beautiful.

Today a friend pointed to the crackled lacquer of the sky and we marvelled.

It's all marvelous, really.  All of it.
Keep an open heart.  It's the only way.

Friday, 1 October 2010

October the First

October the First
and still playing catch-up from September with a few more of my favourite memories:

I spent  a little time with this dear toad as I came in closer and closer to him.
We often find toads around our house.  Last year one continued to hop the length of our long deck and climb into a flower pot to wait out the heat of the day.  I would continually take him back to the cool garden where he would be much happier, funny little guy.

One of our giant maples

Another tapestry that is already waning in brilliance as this season brings its wind and rain, all too brief.

I actually like the soft edges of this woodland still life.  There are so many times my inexpertise works in serendipitous ways that I couldn't have done on purpose, making a watercolour effect in spite of my initial intention.  Don't you love it when life hands you something greater than you imagined for yourself?

Let's be open to more happy surprises!