I've always been a winter girl. I prefer the cold weather to the hot, the dove grey skies to the blazing sun. It's my nature and I always find myself settling into the rhythm.
But this year I've been restless. Moving quickly between snow storms and thaws and incredible art projects that need to be held in reserve (you've no idea how much it's killing me to keep my mouth shut, that is not my nature) and in turn, I've gone quiet.
The sun was a bright incredible odd orange yesterday when I was leaving for work:
I tried to capture it with my camera but the closer I got to it, the farther it skittered away from me. It was like trying to trap a bubble between my hands, it just wouldn't be held.
It feels like the season. It can't get a grip. We're covered in snow one day and opening the windows to the house the next.
The studio seems to be in the same mode. One moment there is an incredible volume of work moving through it and the next? It is preparing for the next project.
I've never experienced this much growth in my art in such a compacted period of time.
It's left me thrilled and weary and turning my attention with expectation to the new thing waiting it's turn in line. Some things I can tell you about in a couple of weeks. The other Big Thing has a ways to go yet and I promise I won't harp on it because really, it's a little annoying to keep bringing up something that I can't discuss just yet. I have so much hope for it that you'll love it that I want to ask you what you think, to know for sure. But I'll be good and wait until it's time.
In the meantime, I'm going to share with you the photo that inspired my newest project:
I love typewriters. I dream of one day owning an ancient Underwood but the turquoise and grey bodies of these have their own kind of charm I find lovely.
I've not been happy about the void here. I feel rude, neglectful. Maybe now that the winter stretch seems to be breaking I'll find my voice again.