Attempted and not quite:
Sunday, we were going to day trip. A late start, a grey day, a chance to talk about things we never discuss and just like those volkswagen commercials, as casually as we talked, we collided with another vehicle. We were all shaken for sure but no one was hurt. We walked away with bruised cars and one bruised elbow.


Forthcoming:
Karen comes tommorrow and we plan to hit the road. We are in search of a good grad school for her, a bunch of visual and idea soup for both uf us, and me, I want to send some postcards and buy a new sweater and not think about work. We're planning on surprise and I'll share when we get back.

And it is Hockney's images of his homeland that have me thinking of this roadtrip, travel, space and place. Check this review for a smattering. If I had more time, I'd paint but if I had even more time I'd find more road related images...
life is short but the road is long. I long for a little adventure and a few days off. Soon, enough.
Rachael

Just when I think I know something. Just when I think I have a plan. That thing changes, that plan shifts, I get it that there's just too much out there to know and the truth is truly surprising. Nothing all that new but newly and truly learned every single day of the past couple of weeks. It's leaf-under-your-feet-crunching time, and then Buffalo got snow dumped. Though, that's never much a surprise.

The mere fact that I'm tossing words into this bottle is a surprise. That I'm giving myself more time to paint, to draw, to dream and to relax is surprising. In my working and waking life I'm surrounded by yoga instructors and stress so the yogi are kindly helping me breathe. It's the same lesson my mom taught me what feels like a billion years ago.

More surprises, if you want 'em. A magic song about want by Rufus analyzed and written so even a musically clueless could learn from here. This poem by T.S. Eliot which I found by accicent:
surprises...

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Prufrock and Other Observations. 1917.


Cousin Nancy

MISS NANCY ELLICOTT

Strode across the hills and broke them,

Rode across the hills and broke them—

The barren New England hills—

Riding to hounds

Over the cow-pasture.



Miss Nancy Ellicott smoked

And danced all the modern dances;

And her aunts were not quite sure how they felt about it,

But they knew that it was modern.




Upon the glazen shelves kept watch

Matthew and Waldo, guardians of the faith,

The army of unalterable law.

 
More soon when you least expect it. Surprise, surprise...
Rachael

It's been overwhelmingly paced in my life recently. Work has swallowed me whole and with the small bit of my self left over I've been trying to paint, teach and grow. I talk to a lot of people on a daily basis who want to make art or want to begin learning something daunting.
Some of my recent growth has been behind the wheel. I have a big fear of driving and am proud to announce that I've been driving around a good bit and haven't hurt anyone. I simply worked up the courage to start and with some support, I did. I've tried this before and have driven for spurts or with lessons or in extreme circumstances but I am tackling this project head on I tell you. I will make concerted efforts to get in my car and go somewhere a few times a week. This can only widen my world and with a small investment in a guardian angel and a supprtive group of friends and family I oughtta be able to do what almost every other American does. Guzzle gas and get to where I need to be when I need to be there without transfering.
Not that I won't be a bus rider, friend, I do still have a love for public transportation, even as it is a challenge at times.
I had the pleasure of spending a recent morning with my dad at our neighborhood garage sale and spending the next morning listening to Rachel Naomi Remen on the radio talking to Krista Tippet.
My paintings are starting to populate the attic studio and I'm been happily staring at Romanesque cathedrals and Renaissance paintings as I work to put art in front of folks who are new to looking.
We're all new at something.
The bold yellows of the trees in my neighborhood makes me sing.
All this is to say, thanks and see ya soon... take care, Rachael

Slowing down to a stumble. Walking slowly next to wild horses. Listening to armadillos. Meeting new people and learning about "tarantula man," the comic book invention of our 5 year old friend Hogan. We're still thinking about the effect of our short vacation camping in the wild. I have some sketches and little paintings but it may take me ages to scan the stinkers...
That's it. We are back home and it's an armadillo free week. Although there are some animals I've been dealing with.

There are benefits to being here that aren't in paradise and today I've been thinking about why I do the work I do to connect people to art:
Why and how I can continue to connect to the stuff myself even when work seems to swallow my time?
What it means to see things fresh?
Why do I focus on work projects when the really fulfilling projects are those that use my creativity and my self?

I rediscovered Tom Phillips in a magic way the other day. The creativity and connection with Phillips (best known for his Humament) was striking.

1263 heads all lined up and then crossed out. We come and we go.
Here's to a creative and productive time for you as for me as I march up to my attic studio...
take care,
Rachael

That's where we are headed. My sweet husband and I are headed to Cumberland Island to celebrate our anniversary with some of our best friends. I'm pretty excited about a weekend of no agenda and no rules and am planning to pack only a fresh sketchbook, my watercolor set, and a good book.

see you in a couple of days...
Rachael