Today has felt like the longest day.

Summer Solstice departs!

My brother came to visit.

He lives in Los Angeles. In the morning, every morning, he wakes astoundingly early. He departs and heads towards the sea. He saunters into saline and drifts about with seaweed blooming beneath his feet. It is a very impressive activity. He gets out of the water and feels more like himself. I think I would disappear into the cosmic unity.

 

I would like to learn--

how to work on a loom. 

We both. . .

We both drive boxes, we both made bundles. 

MAH Art Market in July

Every Saturday during the month of July the MAH (Museum of Art & History) will be hosting an Art Market in Abbott Square. Every Saturday will be a worthwhile adventure in to this space. On Saturday, July 28th, 2012, I will be outside with a group of inspiring human beings sharing a world of hand made things. 

I have prepared fourteen different kinds of hand-made soap, as well as written and printed numerous zines for the occasion. See you there.  

Bed

A lithograph of bed. States of change inspired by sandpaper and ink.

Changing Space

It has been little over a year since I have lived in my new space. I was just revisiting my old process, thinking about the desire to simplify, renew, reorder. I wonder where that impulse to change an intimate space comes from.  

To sift, gather, dust, bundle, fold, glean.

Some choices seem to remain consistent.

Survival Quest

Sometimes the sole of your shoe falls off. Not so bad, kind of moccasin-like and soft. Nicer if it happens to both at the same time, so the ground is felt evenly. Sometimes, though, it may happen that your dearest friend loses the sole to their shoe in similar terrain. Then you both rely on dampened duct tape, until the mud flapping can't go on. Then you may tie the sole to your tarp, and reunite sole to shoe at  a later time.

What is a shoe without a sole? And a sole without shoe?