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Morning floats in on a wave of mist, and the hare's come out to wash their ears together.
The first finger of light is drawn across the grass . . .
and soon washes the paddocks in shades of gold, vanilla and wheat.
And not for the first time, I feel that this landscape makes me who I am.
If you befriend the earth, if you listen patiently,
she will share her secrets.
You will begin to know them. The same way the butterfly knows where she was born, and returns at first light.
The light this time of year takes my breath away. Tonight I was out in the garden, picking spinach and herbs, with the sun shining so warmly on my shoulders and a lovely cloud floating above my mountain. I felt so overwhelmed with all the beauty in my life that I stood and acknowledged it, and quietly said thank you.
My friend Nicole sent me the most delightful link to an interview with my favourite poet Mary Oliver. Mary said so many things that made me sigh with happiness, but one idea in particular has stuck with me this afternoon.
"I spent a great deal of time in my younger years just writing and reading, walking around the woods in Ohio, where I grew up. I often say if you could lay out all the writing I did in those years, it would go to the moon and back. It was bad, it was derivative. But when you love what you're doing, honestly, you can get better."
I love this idea of the love you have for your art being the one thing that helps you improve. I think so often people imagine that you need some enormous talent, that if you don't have that there is no point trying. But no, you just need to love it. Or as Mary says in her poem Wild Geese,"You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."
That's how I see myself too. Just an ordinary person who didn't want to take anyone else's road. Find your own path, and your own vision, and hold to it tightly.
P.S The lovely Jannelle is holding a giveaway of my art. Visit her gorgeous blog to be in to win x
So, you need to start off with a piece of fairly stiff cardboard which will be your 'plate'. From card that is a little thinner, begin to cut out your design.
I like to have some pencil lines on my design, so I know where I would like to position the next layer - such as the bird's eye and wing.
Next I began to build some details over the original paper circle, which is the little girl's head. I added a new layer for hair and also for her features.
Finally I added the word nest (you must mirror image words, and run sentences right to left) and a serious layer of mod podge. Let your sealant dry. It's probably wise to do a few coats of mod podge/sealant. But if you are impatient like me, one will still work. Let your sealant dry for around two hours or until you can see it's completely dry. After this you need to get a roller loaded with ink, and cover your plate with it, so it's ready to print.
When your plate is all inked up, gently lay your paper on top of it. Rub the back of the paper making sure you run your hand over the entire plate area. Gently pull the paper off, and there you have it!
Now, being me, I didn't notice that the thicker cardboard I used as the plate had a slight bumpy feel to it. So of course all those bumps printed as a kind of square background pattern. Not really a fan of that, as it turns out. So I have now cut around the image and transferred it to a smooth cardboard plate. I also took the string off the little girl's hair as I didn't like how it printed. But that's what's great about this technique I think. You can change things as you go. Give it a try!
It's cold and rainy here already. And for once in my life I'm not looking forward to autumn.
I was so excited to come home and work on my collagraph poem this afternoon. And then three quarter's of the way through gluing the letters down I realised something tragic. Not only do you need to mirror image the letters, you also need to do the entire sentence backward. Insert many unhappy thoughts here.
So I made myself some coasters, but the sewing was all crooked. Bother!
But then I remembered that Dean was on his way home to me
and that yesterday the sun had shone while I watched a hawk herd a flock of starlings into an oval shape
and that I had put a butterfly in the sun to warm up so she was able to fly away
and that this very morning I had put my little sleepy owl in the post because she was going to go and live at Sadie's house. And then I didn't feel so bad.
The End.
You never need to worry about where the art is going to come from or whether or not it will be any good or if you have any talent, because you are a conduit. You will receive the work you are meant to make, and all you need to do is make it and send it into the world. It's none of your business how it turns out, or how it is received as long as you did your best. It is a much bigger thing than you and you have no right to judge it. Just give thanks that you were chosen to make it at all.
- from Feb 22 2008
Found tonight, on a tiny piece of paper in a cupboard. I love finding little messages from the 'past me' to the 'present me'. Especially love it when I realise I don't worry about that thing anymore.
The sun spills her pink light over the mountains, gently waking me.
I yawn and carry the first black chrysalis outside to freedom. But she waits and waits, emerging in the afternoon to dry her wings. Just at the moment, watching a life cycle seems more important than ever. The ancient cycle of birth and death whispers that life goes on.
I begin a new collagraph of massive proportions. So many letters in my poem, I'm running out of space. But I am joyful because I seem to have found a new medium that really suits me. This has only happened twice before in my life. I treasure this feeling.
In the letterbox I find my first collage print. A little song of autumn and of me.
I'm thinking about Japan tonight, as I often am these days. Watching the news soon becomes unbearable. And yet what strikes me most is the dignity of these people. The way they line up silently for food, the way no one pushes or yells or forces their way to the top of the line, the way they all seem to be aware that everyone is equally important. I heard on the news tonight that one supermarket full of people lost power, and the customers were all unable to purchase the food they so badly needed. But what did they do? They calmly put the food back on the shelves and left empty handed. Where else would this happen? Not in my country, and probably not in yours. Such grace in the face of so much sorrow. Somehow this gave me heart. Somehow it says, even in the face of such devastation, we still get to choose what kind of people we will be.
People often say we are all connected, we are all in the same boat with the same hopes and dreams. I can't always feel this, but this hour, this night, I do. This is an unfathomable sorrow. A sorrow deeper than tears. In New Zealand after the Christchurch earthquakes, the words 'Kia kaha Christchurch' appeared, spelt out in rocks, on a hillside. It means forever strong in Maori. So now I say Kia kaha Japan. But even from this distance, I can see that you already are.
My dear friend Nicole, over at blue bicicletta, has been making collagraphs for a while now. I have been watching her with more than a little envy. I asked her how to make them and she very kindly gave me some tips. There was just one problem. Sealant. There are no art stores out where I live. I would have to make the trip into Christchurch. So yesterday with much trepidation I drove into the city. I passed many piles of rubble, and houses broken in half and prayed that there would be no after shocks. That's how badly I wanted some mod podge.
Fast forward to this afternoon when I happily sat down with said sealant to make a collagraph plate.
So I drew my owl and cut her and some feathers out of cardboard, and stuck it all together. Then I covered it all with the much sought after mod podge. I seem to recall there should be several layers of sealant. I did one. . . because the light was fading and I really needed to make my print TODAY. Oh dear, the sealant wasn't even totally dry. Tsk, tsk. Such impatience.
The first print was ok. The second was alright. But when I did the third print . . . well that was when I fell in love.
I cannot wait to make some more. Thanks Nicole!
They came to visit the garden because the sedums are blooming . . .
and by some gift of grace
they stayed
and stayed
and stayed. They had the most beautiful melancholy faces.
When I think of Mary Oliver, I think of her striding out towards the fields and wild places with her beautiful porous heart wide open. I think of the world rushing through her, sieving itself through her light, continuing on it's way; while she stands strong, unyielding, knowing what matters most.
"Ten times a day something happens to me like this - some strengthening throb of amazement - some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness."
Amen.
