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pairings

I'm loving a new little boxed book set that I've been working on called Pairings. The "pairings" are a series of paste papers and sewn handmade papers, where I've played with patterns, repetition and color. I'm using a nifty structure that Julie Leonard taught us at Penland this summer, the glue-free (!) drum leaf. Will add more shots as the books and box are completed, but for now, here are some of the papers I made:

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no geographic fixes

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I don't want this to be my Denver. Let me explain...

Almost 2 years ago, my husband and I seriously considered uprooting and relocating to Denver. We were overwhelmed by the cost of housing in the DC market and were looking at all options. The "easier" path of getting more for our money and exactly what we wanted was very alluring. Never mind it required a complete reboot of my small business and leaving our support network behind.

The real issue, however, was fear of making the tough decisions and executing them with commitment and discipline so that we could get what we wanted: a home of our own that we loved here in DC. When we finally dug in to do just that, we landed nicely. While I'm guessing that we could have made Denver work, I believe we may have continued to run from the issues we really needed to face.

So is my increasingly strong draw towards a career in the arts my new Denver...or an important transformation not to be diminished or pushed underground?

I don't know enough yet, but the topic is on the table and out in the open around here. Finally. I've been carrying it around for over a year now, telling myself this is just a hobby...something to do in my spare time. But it's time to start airing this thing, this pull, this magnetic yet natural draw I feel to reclaiming my artist self.

Question is, can I do this without completely reinventing my life? Haven't I done enough of that already? Yes, and...maybe this is what's next. Maybe now that the dust has settled and I've got some stability, I can look around for my heart's desire. And maybe I can do it in a way that's not dramatic, does not cause unnecessary chaos or hardship, and that still keeps me grounded as a responsible and contributing member of a marriage.

That doesn't preclude there being some angst as this topic is aired around here. Far form it. But I trust that more than I would unquestioning support or codependent compliance. For this not to be my geographic fix, I must face and address the things that challenge me most.

moving parts

Have started a little project (Moving Parts) that involves my two passions: book arts and dance. More about it as things develop, but today I dropped by rehearsal at the dance company involved in the project, CityDance, to get a first look at "Entangled," a new piece being created for their January performance at the Harman Center. I was only there for about 45 minutes, but what I absorbed in that short exposure filled a page in my sketchbook!

It was intimate and fascinating to witness the creation of this piece - count by count, comment by comment, negotiations between the dancers (Liz and Jerome), choreographer (Paul) and dancers, perhaps the dancers with themselves (can I really balance her and dip this way?). Just listening to their conversations triggered ideas, as did asking the dancers about their takes on what's emerging for them.

Thanks, Paul, Jerome and Liz, for the warm welcome. Attached are a few shots from the field (complements of my phone - next time I'll bring a real camera)...

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not so far and away

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Have finally recovered from wicked jet lag and accompanying cold, post-China trip. Have not recovered from the perspective-altering, mind-shifting experience of this trip - and hope I never do. It was everything I'd hoped for and far more. Surprise after surprise appeared, some delightful, others disturbing, all eye-opening.

The world feels smaller and I now feel connected to a land and people so far away...all this from only a 10-day visit. Maybe it's because we sought out experiences and interactions beneath the touristy surface. That, and indulging my thirst for all things paper, print and book art. For a taste, here are images of some of my favorite things.

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books transformed

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Su Blackwell's "The 12 Dancing Princesses" (2007)I recall my reaction the first time I learned about altered books: a mix of shock, guilt and curiosity. It somehow felt wrong to tear into, cut up or otherwise transform an object I'd always revered as sacred, or at least precious. But how my take on this has shifted! Su Blackwell's work covers the sacred, precious and downright beautiful. I love how she describes her work, which resonates for me in many ways:

It is the delicacy, the slight feeling of claustrophobia, as if these characters, the landscape have been trapped inside the book all this time and are now suddenly released.

mein inspiration

Stumbled on another amazing paper art site, Mein Inspiration, this weekend. There are so many talented people doing beautiful work. Deep breath, Kel (I get very excited about this stuff). Will attempt to pace myself, savoring each discovery. Relish this cut paper art...

Chris Natrop's Into the Silver See-through

Chris Natrop's Goddess as a Young Woman IV (detail)

Miriam Londoño's Memories Hina Aoyama's Lettre de VoltaireRob Ryan's Papercut Frame for VoguePeter Callesen's Distant Wish (detail)Peter Callesen's The Impossible Meeting (detail)

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butterfly effect

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I started what I thought was going to be a straightforward project yesterday: a fitted lid box with a double-sided window in the lid, into which I'd planned to display a butterfly I found at Penland.

Only as I started thinking about this particular butterfly, it became clear that I have a lot to say about what happened around finding and being with this little guy as he died.

So instead of whipping out another box, I'm letting this process unfold as it will. So far, it has me journaling about death mostly. Not in a morbid dark way, but in what feels like an honest way...about the people I've been with as they died and what was happening in my life at those times.

This week marks the second anniversary of Maggie's death, my maternal grandmother with whom I was very close. She died on the last day of our honeymoon. I swear, she waited until the wedding and honeymoon were over. It makes sense that I'd feel something now, but I didn't see it coming. Slowing down to listen to the stories my butterfly is asking me to tell is having its intended effect, I suppose.

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what if...?

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In Brenda Belfield's class this weekend at The Art League, Design Rules and How to Break 'em!, I was kicked right out of my comfort zone. I didn't think I'd been at the book arts long enough to know what my comfort zone is, but I discovered in this class that I clearly have one.

Brenda's a world-renowned abstract painter and glass artist, so just taking her class was a leap for me. As she encouraged us to think "what if...?" with all of our initial solutions to the design challenges she threw at us, I clung to what I now see is my comfort zone: sticking to the safety of the grid, a delicate esthetic, minimal patterns, a monochromatic palette. Hmmm...is this how I live my life?

I'm probably being a little hard on myself. After all, I color decidedly outside the lines at times. Yet as her question continues to pop into my head today (and my post-Penland high remains), I'm struck by its application to more than our little art class exercises. What if I really embraced my art? What if I could learn to fully express what I'd like to say through these magical media? What if I could change the world, just a little, with my art? What if I could design a life that, in my wildest (no, I think these are my oldest) dreams, I never thought I could have?

Never mind how for now. Just...what if?

landing

Just returned home from 2+ weeks at Penland in Julie Leonard's box making class (assisted by the talented Jessica White). Hard to capture here what this experience has done for or means to me. Actually, I'm still trying to figure it out. What I do know is that under Julie's patient, expert, kind hand we all flourished in different ways. I went expecting to learn something about box making and have left with far more. 

The 8-hour drive home was crucial. I don't do long drives well, but I really needed (still need) the transition time to resurface...to come in for a landing. To reconnect with the people and things outside of that special bubble I was inhabiting in the Smoky Mountains and inside of myself.

More to come, but for now, here's some of my work...

penland fever

I leave a week from today to immerse myself in the book arts at Penland School of Crafts in the Great Smoky Mountains, about an hour from Asheville, NC.

It's all I can think about.

I've been very focused and organized this week -- a way to manage my anxiety, perhaps, about leaving behind clients, home, my husband and pets for nearly three weeks.

Part of me is not-so-secretly thrilled to be leaving it all behind. When I've run away in the past (to France for a month, for example, after a string of self-induced dramas), I sought a port in the storm.


This time feels different. For one, the little heart tugs I feel at the prospect of leaving are a good thing. There's nothing to run from here now.

I feel like a kid getting ready for summer sleep-away camp! Check out some what I'll be up to...

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 Papermaking studio
 
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Working on a letterpress book
 
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Print studio 

living the artist's way

514AV7K8Z2L._SS500_.jpgDo you know Julia Cameron's work? Thanks to my dear friend Mandy, we've been using Cameron's tools to guide us on a "spiritual path to higher creativity" for over two years, now.

I have Mandy to thank for my foray into the book arts. We set out with The Artist's Way, gave Vein of Gold a try, and are now wrapping up Walking in This World.

My spiritual/creative recovery has not been theoretical. The speed, depth and integrity of my life "redesign" are evidence of these tools' power. They are grounding as they inspire.

I'm reminded of their utility today. This morning, I opened The Artist's Way in search of a touchstone to anchor me as I wade into a creative project that feels way over my head. The book fell open to just the reminder I needed, "Filling the Form:"

"What do I mean by filling the form? I mean taking the next small step instead of skipping ahead to a large one for which you may not be prepared. As a rule of thumb, it is best to just admit that there is always one action you can take for your creativity daily. This daily-action commitment fills the form."

And then this, from Walking in This World:

"...the spot-check inventory of blasting through our blocks by the naming, claiming and dumping of any worries, angers and fears related to a project can also get an artist out the starting gate effectively."

With this as context for my morning journaling, voila, a creative breakthrough appeared. My clarity toward this project had been clouded by anxiety and self-doubt for months. This morning it finally emerged, like sunshine after a long spring rain.

seductive gravity, mirthful levity

Came across something today on the Oregon College of Art & Craft Book Arts program page that makes my heart sing:

A book is the material vessel through which our minds explore the world and beyond, but the experience of the book begins with its look and feel - binding us to it - with seductive gravity and mirthful levity.

That's exactly the wonder I feel when I'm lost in my papermaking, book binding and box making. That I get to immerse myself in this happy state at Penland for 2-1/2 weeks this summer is pure joy.