bee creative

ellipsis, day eight

Three dots, sometimes followed by a fourth.

They make me think of liminal spaces...

I like to imagine three dots as an endless amount of possibilities; the fourth dot as a finite amount.

Just before sunrise this morning... 

 

arrangement, day four

My aunt sent these to me, something she found at my grandparents and thought I would like.

I do, thank you!

Yesterday morning I woke up mid dream.

  Mary Oliver was telling me something. 

I wish I could remember what.

tucked in the moss, day three

playing, but not

 

To return to the On Being conversation with Christiana Figures, she introduced me to a new to me word...glocalization;

"think global, act local."

Thinking about that as I move pigment dots around...

local color, sharing globally.

The two small circles are the pigments that I made from rocks. The moment that I hit the rock and it shattered...I don't know that I've shared how that felt. 

Amazement, awe...a sense of gratitude.

Rocks are so old. 

To transform a rock to something else, it's something to do with respect.

 

And here, a little something different. 

Pigment made with willow leaves +  pressed leaves from high bush cranberry (viburnum family) and red twig dogwood.  The willow not native to this area, the other two are.

Looking closer gives a better sense of the willow pigment,

there along the edge...liminal space.

 

 

transformation

Earlier this week, just before sunrise. 

I wanted a sense of the color and was surprised to realize I also captured an image of Venus (I am pretty sure.).

Today, walking on the boardwalk. 

Thinking about how the rocks are always changing, even if very slowly.

And how water and sky can change so quickly. 

I also watched a seal for awhile.

This is the bottom of the jar that the red cabbage pigment was in. 

It says so much about transformation. 

There has been some sewing. 

I am reclaiming two pieces of clothing.  One with a bleach stain and another that had a torn sleeve. 

Both are vests now with patches and pockets.

a list of sorts

I have a goal...that my altered photos always look altered. Altered not to "fix" something but rather to tell more of a story or to look at something differently. 

The cats continue to be "not helpful" when I am trying to sew clothing. 

The boys got locked in the bathroom for 10 minutes so that I could cut out a shirt.

I spent a few hours in the garden today, getting ready for cold weather.  This is the first medlar that has been picked off the tree I planted a few years ago.  Medlar's ripen off the tree.  I will probably use this to make some kind of flavored vodka that can be used as an "extract" for baking. 

Probably the last of the dahlias for the year...

 

what might hold us up

Yesterday I updated my CPR/first aid card, went to the beach and then the farmer's market.

At the beach, I picked up one clam shell, one oyster shell and a piece of brick. I noticed the way that some of the old posts are breaking down; looked at the mix of broken clam and mussel shells, the rocks, glass, and brick. 

Wondered about the things I couldn't see...not just the physical but also stories and history.

Thinking about erosion. 

I listened to the On Being podcast with Baratunde Thurston for a second time and read the transcript.  During the "On Being" conversation he talks about "citizen" as a verb and describes it with four principles: to show up, invest in relationships, to understand power and all the different ways we have it and to value the collective. 

It seems so timely with everything that I am thinking about. 

I've started listening to some of the episodes of his podcast "How to Citizen."  I know that I will be listening to more.  One thing that I love is that the episodes include suggestions for reflection and action...participation!

It's hard to push past (edited, what I mean here is to think of anything else other than...) what is happening in our world right now, on so many fronts.  Some of the instructions given during the CPR/first aid class: stop for a moment and slow down, assess the situation, start over when you have to.

I am holding this thought close, the one that has been in my side bar for years and is one of my touchstones:

"It's not about healing the world by making a huge difference. It's about healing the world that touches you, that's around you." Rachel Naomi Reman

 

One thing I can do right now...

The two pots yesterday.  The pot with the mullein has been simmered for a few hours. The willow has just been soaking but I will heat the water soon and see if the fabric will absorb more color.  The fabric was soaked in a mordant.

Thinking about the act of absorbing.

There is enough fabric to make a top, both pieces are leftover from other projects.  I will probably over-dye with indigo to make a green.

Both of these plants (although maybe not this specific willow) are sometimes considered invasive.  Both have traditional healing qualities, color to share and their own natural beauty.

Thinking about the definition of ruderal again...

plants that grow where the ground has been disturbed.

 

 

 

leaving (the season)

Friday, down along the bay.

Mullein and willow.

Powdered buddleia pigment.

Made mostly from the flower heads but a few leaves too.

Late afternoon, probably the last of the grape harvest.

collecting

The older part of the boardwalk.

I walked underneath so that I could stand at the tide line. 

I sat for a little while.

Some brick collected from the beach to make pigment with. For a long time this was an industrial area.

And a few more rocks that seem like possibilities.

I found a beautiful oyster shell with barnacles to add to a collection of rocks and shells I keep in a bowl outside.  The clam shells were collected to store pigment in.

Time to wash that bowl...

Stacking dots in various ways.

I love the softness of this one. 

pause/paws

Tired tonight and all the things I thought I would do won't happen.  Trying to stay awake just a little longer.

What I am going to do is listen...

Last week I discovered a lecture series that so far I am loving.  It is being given by Alice Oswald and I found it in the Poetry Unbound newsletter.  Pretty sure I will end up listening to all of them several times...they are fairly dense with ideas and oh so beautiful.

I will probably fall asleep listening.

And if I wake up in the middle of the night,

I will go look for the Northern lights.