I can't really describe the moment when in a cold vermont night I set out two packs of those grocery store cut daffodils in waterbottles. A few hours later I stepped into my studio to see an amazing blast of yellow. Pure Wordsworth. I will tell you if the clusters of daffodils I bought tonight (yes, I could have spent those couple of bucks on more vegetables, but I think flowers might nourish me more) bloom that wonderfully.

I have been absorbed this week with drawing, reading (about Lily Dale , NY), and being mundane. I made some small trouble, but more is brewing. I'm looking forward to a few days off to really draw (maybe daffodils, definitely some of these blue-ish shadows cast by trees in the snow, probably a few passes at the stained glass windows in the church around the corner). I've been putting some of those drawings off, but my pencils are sharp and tomorrow is not a promise. Just a hope.

Hope that you are staying warm in the cold, being kind to strangers, and looking closely at the images you are drawn to (for me tonight it's Texas watercolorist, Jan Heaton).

Goodnight,
Rachael

Mondays are days when nothing can stop me from painting. I don't have to go to work. I don't have to be at a computer. I don't really have to do all that laundry or call old friends or take walks or make bread or eavesdrop at the coffee shop. Only, that's what I tend to do. I do know that the 'not quite rightness' of my studio is a crutch for avoiding the hard work of painting, and I do know that it won't change by itself, and I do know that my work grows from drawing and observing anywhere and anything.

Weather's nice and nothing was getting done at home so I got gone and my wandering has led me to a university campus where the eavesdropping is rich (so many romances, so many awful roommates, so many looming tests) and there are enough standing and sitting figures to fill any respectable figure painters gesture sketchbook (and a few pages of my messbook/sketchbook). There's a lot of coffee and ideas here and I've got a library card so I'm off to:

• look for elephants in the Index of Christian Art
• browse and possibly even (if I can remember how) read some journals of popular culture, like Americana
• find out more about contemporary art in Lithuania and Slovakia

But with all of this important wandering to do, I wonder why I'm still typing this in? If only to reveal a working process I've noticed in a good many artists/creative troublemakers...that of the open questioning, the blind research into a bunch of seemingly random things ( you know I'd have to research it, but I'm pretty sure that's how Dennis Oppenheim comes up with stuff like this , and the need to share.

I've noticed that a lot of my blog-energy has of late taken the space that used to be filled by painting and being social, working, etc. If you notice a slip of entries, it may simply mean that I've made another friend. Or, that I'm sitting in a small room making messes, some of which may be as exciting as the stuff the elephants make . A girl can dream...

see ya,
Rachael

Amazing but true, I realized tonight that sometimes people need permission to be creative. We need to know it's ok to play. We have to hear, see, or feel that we won't be punished if we break the rules.

The results of granting this permission, is a magnificent display of creativity, a community of makers, and an artshow that is not about the precious object but all about the ways in which we make, communicate and interact.

The Paper Sculpture show was a lot of fun but now I'm tired.

Accept this permission, grant it to others, and have some fun with ordinary materials. There is no good reason why you can't make something fabulous. (like a styrofoam print or a seed pod bracelet or just make your bed. But you don't need permission from me, you can give yourself permission.

goodnight,
Rachael

Short report. I'm hoping the stew of ideas in my head comes out as the meatiest, savory, thickest stuff. Just back from the Ramones movie with a bunch of questions about the business and inspiration of art. When your band becomes your job, I guess you can just troop around the world making powerful music with a guy you hate. The story was pretty sad, powerful too.

J.T's got a great little project posting art and artists comments on a subject. He tossed me fun and posted it today which made me feel a little special.

But special ain't nothing if you aren't helping other people, I call. So I'll walk some ladies across the street and do some good deeds.

I have to get back to painting but in my sketches at least, the crisis seems over. The babies are fitting into the bigger picture, finding their way around the tall, shadowy (Feininger-ish) men, the pinnate leaves, the big orange bird beaks, the intertwining forms, and..um...elephants. It's a good thing I don't have to know the whys. I think it's more important I make the stuff. Just prepare and serve the stew. Gotta get back to the stirring I guess.

Goodnight, troublemakers, take care,

Rachael

Oh and do you know about Cat Power? Even when she lived in our neighborhood, we were a little slow to discover, but gosh it sounds so lovely to me... More for the stew.

Over the past few days my motor has been on. I've been running around and around and around and then as often as I can, I've been stopping to stop. To slow down. To look more carefully. To figure out why I'm drawn to the figure again. And then just when I least expected it, the babies came.



A plague of babies has landed in my paintings (yes, I know you have theories, but no, big news soon, I got nothin' to tell ya). Sometimes this happens. I walk into my studio, I sit down to work, and imagery I don't expect emerges in my paintings.

When an idea erupts and surprises me, I'm prone to laugh and invariably it makes some sense. Of course there's a plague of babies! Ali is adorable, Little Sophia is a year old, good 'Sugar' Rae has been in this world a few weeks, teeny tiny Olive is brand new, and more are coming any minute. We've gotten half a dozen birth announcements over the past few months, I've been to my share of baby showers, and I'm no stranger to board books ...these vunerable little creatures are lurking everywhere. I'm especially amazed to see the way my artist friends have kids; they remain creative, productive, and flexible even if they are supporting another creature on the iffy incomes we are used to as artists.

The paintings here are very much in process and very likely to change radically. Honest critiques honestly accepted. I'm sure not sure of where they are going but the goal is not so much cute, as vunerable. I'm not a mother, I'm an observer and a messy painter.



And well, this auntie Rachael is excited about the paper sculpture show. They liked it in Pennsylvania and we'll like it here. I fully disclose that I work for the people behind the paper and I've seen lots of hard work go into putting on a good show . That's what I do, I observe, and lately I draw babies...You got a problem with that?

Good, I didn't think so...

take care,
Rachael

Oh, and Mark reminded me of the Cheap Art Manifesto from the Bread and Puppet folks , very inspiring and very much related to the ideas behind the manifesto I cribbed the other day. Yea, let's post these puppies everywhere ...