Pink House

One of the great discoveries that made this trip possible, and even more fabulous than expected, was airbnb.com. I found it just before my trip began. You can rent a couch, a room, a studio, or an entire house. If you have an extended stay you can often get a discount. I loved being able to stay in neighborhoods I never would have known about. I felt like a local and didn't have to suffer continental breakfasts at hotels across the country.

I stayed at the "Pink House" in West Philadelphia, and rode the trolley to the Studio. The last picture was taken during my daily commute, the one above it is Milk & Honey, where I bought groceries, down the street from the Pink House and across from the trolley stop.

Studio Incamminati

I discovered Studio Incamminati in the summer of 2009, when I took Sherrie McGraw's workshop. I'd never heard of it before and was in awe when I walked in. It was what I'd been longing for as an artist; huge studios, lots of light, well organized, great instructors, and professional models. I was impressed with the quality of the student's work on the walls. I knew I had to get myself back there somehow.

This is the first day, we began with gestures. Mine is the one in the middle.

About gesture, the instructors said, "Exaggerate the gesture in the beginning, because it will mellow as time goes on," and, "Art expresses emotion, get that feeling in the initial stage."

Philadelphia

Years ago, I made a small box in a silversmithing class that illustrated a Sufi tale called "Fatima, the Spinner, and the Tent". Inside the box, I put a tiny treasure chest to represent the riches bestowed upon Fatima at the end of the story. I went to a local gem shop and bought a tiny diamond, sapphire, emerald, ruby, and piece of gold. They were each the size of a pinhead, and all the jewels together cost less than $20. They were small, but they were real.

It turned out that Fatima's journey, looking in each moment like never ending struggle and disaster, was ultimately leading to her own true happiness.

In the summer of 2010, with everything falling apart around me, I reached out to create my own tiny treasure chest of things I'd always longed to be. Small, but real. I longed to live on the coast of Maine, my days formed by the rhythm of nature, and I wondered what it would be like to truly have time to write.

In Philadelphia, I wondered what it would be like to spend my days as a painter...

Above, John Hancock, poised to make his freedom declaring, no apologies signature, inspired me as I strolled past Independence Hall. He with his feather and parchment, me in the glow of my laptop.

Paper and Flight

Dear Muse,

I know I've pushed you away for quite some time now. It wasn't personal, and I've missed you so. It's that I don't always know you will support me, and I have to watch out for myself. Things are made of bones and gravity down here, Muse, and I've been working to give them a roof.

I'm hoping that if I just keep typing, keep putting shapes on the white parts, you might take notice, and come back again.

Do come back.

These sculptures, made entirely out of paper, greeted me as I arrived at the airport in Philadelphia, almost a year ago. I wrote the name of the artist in a little notebook that I still have somewhere, though I don't know where. I'll post her name when I find it. I was afraid if I tried to find it before posting we would still be waiting, and I've done so much waiting.

Tea for Tohoku

I am done with OT school. I'm now spending my days studying for the licensing exam and unpacking boxes. I moved back to Albuquerque in January, but due to the intensity of my internships, I haven't had a chance to unpack until now.

I found this collage this morning, something I made a few years ago. It's a bowl of matcha tea and a Japanese tea sweet. A hand in a gesture of offering. Those familiar with Japanese sweets will recognize its jellied consistency. The collage is made entirely of Christian images, the hand belongs to Jesus and the sweet is made of the light from the Holy Spirit. I love collage, anything can happen!

I received an email today from my friend and Japanese Tea Ceremony teacher, Haruko. A tea group she belongs to in Japan donated tea to those affected by the tsunami. She included the following message, written by one of the tea store owners to the survivors.

"Thank you very much for allow us to send tea to you. these tea leaves were picked in 2010. The year, we had a big problem at the tea plantations. Because the freezing cold weather attacked right before picking tea leaves. All of the green good tea leaves were turned brown and seemed all of the tea bushes were dead. But few days after the weather warmed up, the tea bushes were growing and had nice green young tea leaves. We did not get much tea leaves, but the tea was wonderful. Please you, survivors and Japan will come back strong like this tea. We are thinking of you."

Art for Japan

I've donated three drawings to a fundraiser to assist those in Japan affected by the earthquake and tsunami. You can bid on them at the Daily Paintworks Help Japan Challenge. Just scroll down to the bottom of the page to see the images and place your bid. 100% of the proceeds of the sale will go to organizations in Japan to provide relief to evacuees. Shipping is on me. You can read more info on the description of each drawing and the organization the money will go to on the website. The artists have done a great job raising money so far, and I'm thrilled to be a part of it. The auction for my drawings ends in just three days, on April 13th, so please take a look, and if you're interested, bid as soon as you can.

I adore Japan. I taught English on a tiny island in the Sea of Japan, years ago. I've been horrified and heartbroken about what happened there. The world feels very small and interconnected in some ways, but at the same time it's so hard that it's so far away, to not be able to go over there, to "do more." My part in this fundraiser is small, but do visit the site and pass the word along to as many as you can, so we can raise as much money as possible. Or if you have art work to donate, that would help too.

Arigatou gozaimashita.

Coming Attractions

Last night I dreamed that I was inside my blog, looking out. I was in the ocean, or on the ocean, or I was the ocean, as I usually am when I dream. I was flowing along, minding my own business, when I felt that someone was looking at me. I looked up to see a gray frame around me, and felt white words running under my feet.

It was on a walk this afternoon when I realized that it was in my blog that I dreamed I was. Nature has a way of making things clear like that. It made sense to me because I love the world that I live inside my blog, and it has bothered me every day for months that I haven't been able to tell you about the rest of this trip.

Has life really been so busy that I couldn't spare a moment to share a photo, or a story or two? Yes, it has really been that busy. I'm in my second (AND FINAL) internship. With 10-12 hour work days, sharing this summer's journey has been impossible, and it haunts me because there's so much to tell. I worry that I will forget the stories or that their meaning will fade. Everything has been happening so fast, there's no time to process. It will be two months, until this internship ends, before I will have time to organize the photos, and tell the rest of this story. But I will.

I think that's what the dream was about. Telling me to tell you.

My trip was incredible, incredible. It was my window and I took it and it was worth it. Here is a sneak preview. A bodhisattva in a window in Manhattan, cupcakes at the Magnolia bakery in Grand Central Station, a mermaid in a window on South Street in Philadelphia, a sunset in Vermont, a sculpture created by Beatrice Wood, overlooking the Ojai mountains of California, taken from her porch.

I fell in love with taking photos of reflections in windows along the way. I'm enchanted by the way they capture different worlds that exist at once.