It's tough to re-learn

 

It's been years since I've had the time (or interest) to return to digital photography and embellish / alter, etc.  I used to play for hours, layering images and text and textures in order to achieve "the right look".  But lately I've found I like the somewhat blurred, vintage look -- soft, ethereal.

I've always admired the work of Kim Klaussen and Jill Ferry of Flypaper Textures, but recently found the work of Denise Love in a copy of Bella Grace.  So today with the temperatures once again soaring into the 90s and high humidity, I retreated to my artsy "Bat Cave" to play a few hours before going to work.

Small blossoms are often lovely -- their simplicity compelling.  This is a shot I took several springs ago during one of my morning walks (no, not a power walk; more like a wandering meander!).  I layered several textures on the original image, including some text, then worked a Gaussian Blur and lowered the saturation a few times.

And then my software crapped out and the image was compromised -- just a weird wiry image like a dying TV screen!  WTF?!?   Deep breath, Kelly.  Start again.  And amazingly, I like this image better than the one before.  Goes to show that patience is a virture, uh?  

This image is now available on my Red Bubble account, if you're interested in notecards and such.  I still have so much to do to organize my little corner of RB -- create "collections" for easier searching, etc.  But I'll get there eventually.

 

And on another entirely different subject -- but still creative! -- I dug out my old tabletop loom this morning, dusted it off and polished it up.  Another project I intend to re-visit this autumn.  I'm loving the wall hangings I keep seeing in the Scandi magazines and sites.  

How about you?  What are you up to as the summer winds down and we're still somewhat constricted with the pandemic?  

 

Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.

Camille Pissarro

Is it truly Spring?

These are dismal times for so many of us around the world, and our hearts are aching for those who've lost their life and for their families and friends.  And yet Nature continues and evidence of spring abounds, even up here in New England despite a snowfall yesterday.  

Tulips #1 by me

Forced to stay home from work, I'm finding that so much of what I've pushed aside over the past years is now calling to me, tapping at my feeble, frenzied brain, reminding me that creativity and the need to express oneself never truly disappears.  It may fade into the background of our 21st century lives; it may be packed away at the back of a desk, waiting patiently for us to re-discover all over again.  

Tulip #2 by me

I'm going to take this enforced time to rediscover the joy of creating, even if it's something small and simple.  I've been culling through my photographs from the garden and feeling that a backyard garden can be a wondrous place.  I've been unwrapping paints and markers and pastels, lugging out canvases and sketchbooks, dusting off paint brushes and tossing out those that were welded together in neglect.  I just spent the last hour or so updating my blog (my art website was hacked last fall and I lost that, plus the email address attached to it!), posting a new banner that makes me smile.

Spring is a time for a new beginning.  It's as simple as that.  I hope you all stay safe and healthy in these coming weeks, months.  I intend to stop by your blogs -- if they're still alive! -- and revisit many of you.  And I hope I gain some new fellow bloggers, or Instagrammers, or FB friends. 

Spring Tulips 3 by me

Blast from the Past?

Well, it's been so long since my last post, I doubt anyone is out there anymore.  So many of the folks I followed have migrated to Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr and other platforms.

But that's okay.  When I go back to the first post I wrote in 2007 or '08, I was just doing my online journaling, talking about art and learning to paint, creativity and such.  No one was following me at that point and, quite frankly, it didn't bother me.  I was just thrilled at creating my blog and posting a few times a week.  

Eleven years later and in semi-retirement -- Good Lord, really? -- I'm still working part-time, but have found that the creative side has somewhat dissipated.  I suppose that's life and how it goes sometimes.  But after this first year of adjusting to retirement, I think I'm getting my sea legs under me once again.

I may not post about painting, but there are other areas of life I'm free to explore that sort of got pushed aside over the years -- cooking is one of them.  Never had much time for it -- although I love to eat! -- except to slap something on the table for the family at 8pm at night.  

Writing is another area I've been exploring, especially with the ease of indie publishing.  I belong to a local writer's chapter and have published several novellas under my pen name.  It's fun and not as stressful as if I had an editor breathing down my neck. 

And finally the garden.  I spend soooo much time out there come the spring and summer, I lose track of all else -- well, almost.  This summer has been difficult with the heat and the weeding, but I've made progress (I think).

So I hope some fellow bloggers will stop by and say hello, as well as new ones.  Until then, stay cool out there!  

Last of 2017

Sometimes it gets to the point of ridiculousness how time slips through our grasp.  Today is New Year's Eve and, quite frankly, I'll be happy to see this year end.  But then again, I always feel this way about the current year as it comes to a close -- I suppose because the holiday season just rushes ahead, leaving us frazzled and stressed out.

So today, on a freezing cold day, I'm sitting in the lower level of the house, hunkered down and playing with stuff I never got around to posting / sharing.  I guess in some ways, I'll enjoy January - March just because it tends to be quiet and one feels quite content to hibernate.

Here are a few pieces I did in the past year or so -- sometimes these images get lost in the shuffle, buried under other "stuff."  

Wishing everyone a safe New Year's Eve

and a Happy New Year in 2018!

New Year, New Ways:

Necessity is the motherhood of invention.

What had been my newly remodeled craft / writing room created only about six months ago is now gone.  Actually, quite happily, I gave it back to our son, whose first foray into independent living with a bunch of his friends didn't quite work out. We said, "Come on back and re-group!"  So, here I am again, downstairs in the lower level of the house with little natural light, next to the laundry room.  But that's okay; I did that for almost 20 years.

It tends to be quiet, not in the daily flow of foot traffic, warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I can make a mess and leave it, which I was finding it hard to do in the new studio space -- it was just too darn pretty to mess around in.

So yesterday, New Year's Day, I wanted to do some quilting. But my son was snoring away in the room, recuperating from the previous night's party. Did I mention that I had such a huge stash of fabrics and yarns, I left them in the room with him, with a pledge not to stink them up too, too much (mothers are like that!) 

So now what to do? 

Downstairs, I began pulling out bits of exotic papers and specialty threads, little scraps of this and that, then decided to start with a basic one-patch - what quilters would call a basic building block to patchwork quilting. Using some lovely Japanese paper yarns I bought from Habu Textiles, NYC, years ago, I stitched through the papers, using a combination of stitches. The scrap of music score is from an old Dover book on Chopin, I believe (copyright free). "Cedez" means "give" in French. I truly like this idea of "paper quilting," a kind of simple collaging, I suppose.

So you see, I gave my studio to my son with all our love and support, and that move, in turn, gave me the gift of creating something I wouldn't normally have done. I think I'll start working on a 4-patch piece. I have a lovely batch of silk sample squares in a variety of textures, as well as a pile of fun Indian and Nepalese papers. In many ways, this reminds me of the traditional embroidery sampler young girls were required to make years and years ago; a way to learn a variety of stitches that would serve them well in the years to come.

Happy New Year!  

Let's hope for a better year ahead!  

A pause in the madness --

Days are getting crazier and crazier . . . shopping, traffic, preparing for a possible snow storm tomorrow. Sometimes when life gets like this, it's best to find a quiet corner and pull out some papers and embellishments and make something simple. I was thinking of my daughter and her fiance when I made this. They just bought a house, and I thought this might be a sweet something to hang once I frame it.

See, simple things. Sweet things.

Sometimes that's all you need to tide you over . . .

Small surprises

Been home today with a tough headache and just plain weariness. Roaming the house, at loose ends, thinking about work . . . no way to shut down the mind even though the body is screaming, "stop!" 

Finally wandered into my 'studio' area (actually was doing a load of laundry) and started to poke around in the files on my computer, drifting through various scans when I stumbled on a small file of pastel and watercolor sketches. God, when did I do those? And, more importantly, where are they? 

Surprisingly, I've always steered clear of pastels, although I do love the density and richness. Several years back I tried my hand, and I think I wrote on this blog about how I stupidly wore white shorts while using pastels -- a true 'duh' moment! 

But I keep returning to favorite artists, such as Casey Klahn and Deborah Stewart.  And, of course, one must revel in the pastel works of Wolf Kahn, so there must be something in pastels that stirs my feeble brain.

Earlier this summer I found that working small and quick while using watercolors as the underpainting truly gave me the effect I was seeking with pastels. Somewhere in this mess, I need to find those sketch books, perhaps tack them up on my inspiration wall, pull my head out of the dense cloud of work and the threatening depression of winter and sink myself into those colors -- 

Sunset on the CT River

The Stillness of Pines at Dusk

A Continuous Flow

High Summer along the River

Hope

Today I bought bags of potting soil and re-potted all the indoor houseplants -- just so that I could smell and feel dirt, earth, that dark brown stuff buried under almost three feet of snow.

How desperate can you get?

Pretty desperate, I guess.

Continued working on some small collages, playing with old watercolor and acrylic paintings, bits of fabric, 'rip-n-tears' from vintage books and such . . . 

Just seems like a kind of limbo -- waiting and watching for more snow (coming down now as I write this), waiting and watching for signs of spring (amazing bird song yesterday while walking, which made me smile!).

"Dio" (6"x8", watercolor and acrylic painting remnants, batik scrap, and found paper)

Next week we turn the clocks ahead for Daylight Savings -- whoooheee! And then spring arrives two weeks later. Don't be surprised to find me on my knees, kissing the ground (if I can find it).

"Contents" (6"x6", fabric bits, found papers)

So now I'm off to the fireplace and my cosy chair in the corner nearby.  I am counting the hours to Daylight Savings, continuously crocheting, reading, dreaming of the garden and making notes on what has to be done.  Lots of work but I cannot wait.

One of my favorite roses -- the English rose, Sweet Juliet -- a light, fruity smell and so lovely!  I hope this warms your heart as it does mine (taken last summer) . . .

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all - 

 

Emily Dickinson

Slow summer painting

A world of color and hue, 

 a world that remembers the nuance of light and shadow, 

of how darkening waters still send up a glitter,

a spark of sunlight, 

  a world quiet but for birdsong drifting on air . . . 

Sometimes the brush works with you, sometimes not. 

Another layer of paint, 

 scrap back, 

begin again. 

Losing track of time -- is it day or is it night? 

Does it matter? 

Muscles begin to ache,

fingers cramp.

Has it been that long?

Must be.

The body needs time

to adjust,

not to fight the flow,

to corral the brushwork.

Slip aside,

step back,

surrender . .  . 

 

Nothing going right? Go left!

Taking a break from painting. Taking a break from writing. Well, let's face -- I'm just taking a break from lots of things! The family gathering is over for the holidays; a great time was had by all. Today is quiet and the weather is changeable -- cloudy and cool, then the sun comes out and the humidity rockets. But I'm not complaining after the long winter and cold spring we've had here in New England.

I returned to my interest in digital photography and, more specifically, digital scrapbooking. I've been reading back issues of Digital Studio, as well as the current copy, and am intrigued by many of the digital artists and their works. I've tried this before but was always in a bit of a rush, so my attempts usually went bust. Also, although I have Photoshop Elements, I'm used to my old Jasc Paintshop. Not as powerful but it's a question of comfort. Someday I'll transition over.

With this image I was trying to work with my photos of flowers and was hoping to achieve a kind of mosaic effect that Donna Goar creates, which are awesome, but ran out of time. Still, I'm quite happy that I got this far -- at least for today.  The plumes and scrolls are from Anna Aspnes, a custom brush I created (compass), and a paraphrase from Georgia O'Keeffe.

When we try new things, there's always a learning curve; sometimes the curve is steeper than another.  And then my concern is, especially with digital images, that they are truly ephemeral, likely to disappear into cyberspace if we're not careful.  I think images like the one above would make a wonderful note card to send to someone you know who loves flowers and gardens -- and who does take the time to see a flower. 

*   *   *

When in the fresh mornings I go into my garden before anyone is awake,
I go for the time being into perfect happiness.

Celia Thaxter (1835 - 1894)

slender spray 

drifting 

on a dark plane --

why does one 

waver so, 

on this summer day? 

*   *   *

release has come finally -- a week's retreat to the Cape, to soak in the sun, walk in the sand, read late into the night with fireflies tapping one's shoulders and knees . . . 

to re-charge the creative batteries, like an old junk car, slightly tipped toward the earth, rumbling along, running on fumes . . . 

much to think about, nothing to think about . . . much to discard as so much unnecessary luggage . . . to lighten the load and find fresh glee in each day . . .

Happy Summer to all my blogging friends!

 

 

The Creative Struggle

Navigations [scanned quilt piece with digital embellishments]

 

things that do not seem to be working with one medium, come alive in another --

it's sometimes a frustrating journey, even from one step to the next --

sometimes it means going backwards to move forward --

and then again, maybe one doesn't want to move forward

but rather scuttle sideways . . .

how often do we get lost in the tangles of good intentions and great ideas?

quite often, for me anyhow --

the clock always seems to be ticking, a constant drip on the brain --

so what is one to do?

The creative process.  It's an arduous journey, a slow trek, a humbling process that demands your respect yet also your faith.  It reminds me of "Jacob wrestling with the Angel," that has been depicted by many artists over time --

Who at some point has not felt like Jacob, a mortal struggling with the Divine, holding fast to the angel all through the night and refusing to let go until, at dawn, he prevails and receives a blessing – an answer to his prayers. 

 Since the Renaissance artists have found in this tale a metaphor for the creative struggle. Rembrandt depicted it as a tender embrace . . . while Donato Creti portrays the struggle as more like a dance with the angel seeming to struggle more so than Jacob.

The British film director Sally Potter used the painting in yet another manner to depict the very basic struggle between the masculine and the feminine in The Tango Lesson.

So I suppose those of us who attempt to create should not despair as this has been going on since the dawn of time.   Ah, I feel so much better now -- 

"If you decide to enter the page

take a knife and some matches,

and something that will float. Take something you can hold onto,

and a prism to split the light and a talisman that works,

which should be hung from a chain around your neck:

that's for getting back."   

                                                 Margaret Atwood

Building the Simple

bird fly away

Collage

5" x 7" 

Oddly enough, life is quiet now only two days away from Christmas.  Having some time off, I've been working with simple materials: papers, fabrics, text from an old Italian dictionary, small bits of willow branches found on my morning walks. I'm hoping to take part in the International Collage Exhibition and Exchange run by Dale Copeland. It's been a few years since my last participation, so it's time to bring out the boxes of papers and such. The work above is mainly created from specialty papers from Nepal and India, some bits of marbleized papers, scrap fabrics from the quilt stash and a slender piece of Japanese silk yarn around the perimeter. I then stitched the collage onto Canson pastel paper using another Japanese paper thread.

Leave Taking

Collage
4" x 6"

Leave Taking is built upon a scrap of silk dupioni using papers, a bit of a monoprint I did last year,  Italian text and a willow branch stitched down with copper on Bristol paper.  I love the contrast between the fragile silk and the papers and copper stitching.  I hope to work on some more over the coming weeks.  I think participating in an exchange/exhibit keeps one focused and on track.  I find that I need that type of structure to discipline myself -- otherwise, I fiddle and procrastinate.

Quilting is another form of building with simple materials. This is a glimpse of a smaller work I did years ago, but became impatient to finish it as a full-scale quilt. So I framed it in a wooden embroidery hoop and hung it on the wall by the fireplace. Now when I'm on the couch reading or doing more hand-stitching, I look up at this and feel good about its simple lines and monochromatic colors.

No Rhyme or Reason

36" x 40"

In an all-together different vein, this is a mid-sized wallhanging quilt, mostly done over several summers at Cape Cod, hand-stitched and then machine-stitched into a larger piece when I had finally accumulated enough blocks. There was never any pattern except for the basic log cabin pattern. It is certainly not symmetrical; perhaps a bit wonky here and there -- but it makes me smile when I look at it, thinking of those summer days at the Cape and how the slow stitching and piecing kept me sane while raising teenagers -- need I say more?

Collage and quilting -- a process of building, of piecing, of working with colors and textures, with surface and design. Don't you just love it?

 In the depth of winter I finally learned

that there was in me an invincible summer. 

Albert Camus

Wherever and how ever . . .

Storms blew in yesterday afternoon and early evening -- small tornadoes touching down throughout New York and Connecticut. Very strange stuff!

But this morning the sun broke out and the air was crisp and cool with a slight breeze. One could feel the edges of autumn brushing past as I strolled through the garden, searching for any mishaps and destruction from the high winds. Luckily everything was in good shape.

Switching gears, creatively speaking, I began working on several quilting projects this weekend. At this time of year, I tend to gravitate to more tactile projects. Perhaps the cooler weather and the first signs of hibernation lead one to pick up fabric or yarn, things that warm and comfort us.

These two blocks of beautiful batiks are actually one large block, about 12" x 12" -- just couldn't get the whole piece on the scanner. I picked up the fabric at the World International Quilt Festival in New Hampshire a few weeks ago -- luscious cherry reds and burnt umbers, golds and deep greens -- good enough to munch on.  I have no particular plan in mind, perhaps several large 12x12 blocks embedded in an off-white batik background, something that will make those colors POP!  Or maybe a deep navy -- I can never tell until I start placing the pieces together on a large open surface.

Often as I work with these bits and pieces of fabric and colors I think about painting abstracts or building a collage -- what if I did this with oil and cold wax?  what if I did something like this in pastels or with papers? -- 

You see, it never ends.  Or rather it's all connected somehow, isn't it?  Whether you're creating with traditional materials, such as fiber, or with more aesthetic materials, such as oil or pastel, one is always creating, combining color and pattern, texture and line, seeking that point where all comes together into some thing that pleases, that sparks excitement or serenity.

This odd little fellow [above] is a block I experimented with in following the methods of Rayna Gilman and her quilt work, as published in Free-form Quilting, a great book that takes you out of the same-old, same-old frame of mind.  I'm still not sure I have the hang of it yet, but will continue to challenge myself.

Another experiment but more in the realm of combining colors -- hot pinks and oranges with deep cobalt blues and purples, all couched in that gorgeous khaki green shade -- BAM!  It makes one's heart beat faster, makes you want to dance around the room to some Brazilian jazz -- oh, yeah!

So you see, whether working with fiber or with paints, you learn so much about color combinations, pattern and line mixing and more. And, in the case of quilting, you end up with something that you can wrap around yourself, or around someone you love, and feel cozy and protected. How good is that?

"These fragments I have shored against my ruins."

T.S. Eliot

The Waste Land

Marking Time

And still it goes . . . time compressed, hours in the car commuting, juggling budgets, hiring, training, publicity . . . poor right brain! It sits quietly squashed into a corner, waiting patiently for a gesture, a signal that it can function once again.

But I know the time is approaching. Perhaps the Solstice is nudging things along? More and more, as I work, commute, do laundry, food shopping, weed the garden, part of my mind is shifting and sorting, fingering ideas of color and shape, of how the light spills at a certain time of day. For the first time in months, I picked up the camera to catch the early morning light on some roses. A kind of coming home after a long departure . . .

When time is short, simple papers and a glue stick work for me. What works for you? These could end up as note cards for friends and family -- or they could be framed up as small works to be arranged on a white wall that catches the summer sunlight, a kind of paper quilt . . .

Archipelago

6" x 8"

collaged papers

Translation iii

5" x 7"

collaged papers and fabric

Totem

6" x 8"

collaged papers; fabric

The Source

5" x 6"

collaged papers (sold)

Translations ii

5" x 7"

collaged papers; paint; text

Even if it is only the tactile movement of touching papers and fabric, of moving small masses of color and textures around on a clear, white space . . . it is enough -- for now.

What art offers is space - 

a certain breathing room for the spirit. 

~John Updike

Working Quick, Working Small

It's been so long since my last posting!  I just took on a new position and have been wrapped up in learning a new environment, a new staff and new communities. But today on a quiet, chilly gray Sunday, I decided I needed to do some catching up --

Is this my "Blue" phase? Not sure but this winter seemed to bring out blues in a variety of hues and values. For Wassily Kandinsky, blue was the color of spirituality: the darker the blue, the more it awakened human desire for the eternal (On the Spiritual in Art).  Kandinsky also developed a theory of geometric figures and their relationships, claiming that the circle was the most peaceful shape and represented the human soul.

Circular Thinking

acrylic on paper, 6" x 8" 

 mat opening of 3.5" x 5.5"; 8"x10"

Perhaps that helps explain the prevalence of blue -- the need to keep calm, to focus on serenity amidst a chaotic period of life.  I found I had to work quickly, sometimes just on a smaller scale; otherwise, I'd never had done anything. When going through interviews and waiting to hear the results, it was hard to concentrate on anything else. The creative life was shoved off to the side; not a good thing, but I had no choice. So these mini-works were about all I could handle.

Racing the Storms

oil pastel on bristol paper

3" x 5"

And I find that as I look back over these paintings and sketches, I like what came through -- nothing belabored, heavy and dull -- at least, in my opinion. The funny thing is that I have so many more that I unearthed from the piles stacked on the shelves or in portfolio bags -- pieces of larger paintings that just didn't make the grade, that I salvaged by cutting up and matting.

Ghost Barn

watercolor and pastel on Cartiera Magnani paper

6" x  6"

Why do larger paintings sometimes not work while the smaller bits do?   I'm not sure -- perhaps the brain can only take in and register pieces of a whole. Or is it that the artist is truly working on several paintings within the larger one?  Is it the push-pull between the right-brain and left-brain processes that seem to create this phenomenon?

Waterfall

6" x 8", acrylic on Yupo paper

matted to 8"x10" with 3.5"x5.5" opening

And then there is the color, again pushing through, insisting on a presence whether you want it there or not. Working quickly, working smaller -- spontaneity, process over detail -- swift movements that evoke a kinetic energy that inevitably calms . . .

Update on Creative Paralysis & Procrastination

So I've tried to follow what I wrote last week, trying to build up that "one thing" creative savings account throughout the week so that my weekends are relatively task-free.

Tuesday I did this one thing:

If you haven't heard about MOO cards, check it out -- it's fun, very user-friendly and you can't beat the price! I love the tips that other artists and marketers share. I will post a pic when I get mine next week.

Wednesday I did this one thing:

I have used this company before -- again, very efficient and easy on pricing: Documounts for custom-cut mats and backing, as well as a host of other accessories most artists need.

And today I cheated a bit -- nothing to help my art business but rather something to help my spirit. We all need that from time to time, don't we? I found Copper Canyon Press, a wonderful publisher of contemporary and international poetry. What I love about the site is that you can sample bits of poetry from the various books and then share them via email with friends and colleagues. Cool! If you download their catalog, you can browse through and read excerpts. That's where I found a backlist of Pablo Neruda's works -- excellent treat for such a wet and dreary day.

So now I've cleared the deck of "have-to-do's" and can devote that much more time to working on the art. I've still got so much more to do before the Hartford Open Studio weekend, but now I feel I've achieved a bit more balance by keeping the menial things off to one side.

Out of clutter find simplicity;

From discord find harmony;

In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.

Albert Einstein

Creative Paralysis

Last weekend I was feeling overwhelmed with too many projects, deadlines for shows, my workspace cluttered and confusing, other demands on my time. I know that when this becomes unbearable, I become paralyzed with not knowing where to start, what to put aside and often just wondering where the heck is everything I need to get started?

So much you want to accomplish but so little time . . . sigh.

And then that growing stagnation, that feeling of why bother? begins to take hold.  Did you hear that?  That was the sound of your creative life coming to a screeching halt, of slamming into the wall of despair.  This happens in my work life, too -- budgets, grant deadlines, building projects, keeping up with technology -- the list goes on and on.

What to do?

We've all heard it -- the whole is the sum of the parts, but sometimes there are just too many parts, and they tend to scatter like a herd of kittens.  The solution is not to be overwhelmed by the big picture but to deal with the parts one at a time.  Not easy to do in this society that thrives on multi-tasking, is it?

So back to basics, back to dealing with the one part, to distill all the lists to one element that is conquerable, do-able now, today, this minute, this hour.

Just do one thing today, just one thing that will help your art, your passion.

Just do one thing that will take no more than an hour, preferably less.

One thing, no matter how small or insignificant, that you can point to when done and say it is done.

One

Thing

And when you've finished, you will write that one accomplishment down and feel good about it.

And tomorrow you will start again -- just one thing.

And as the days go by, these one things will add up so that by the weekend you will not feel as stressed to get ALL things done because you've accrued these little one things all week, a kind of creative savings account.

And you can feel good about that.

Two books I recommend are:

Twyla Tharp's The Creative Habit

Eric Maisel's Fearless Creating

Piecing One's Dreams

What sits on the margins, forgotten, shoved aside in search of something "better?"   In another effort to sift and sort, to organize my workspace, to dig and toss the detritus of years of making, one stumbles upon little projects, items that intrigued months, years ago . . . and then were shoved aside.  Perhaps not intentionally, but life has a way of shoving the small aside, including people.

These were little works,  bits of flotsam and jetsam, like puzzle pieces that I had pieced together for some reason, maybe for no other reason than that I love the idea of Italy, of traveling someday to Venice and Florence, to the Italian Lake District (remember that wonderful movie, A Month by the Lake, with Vanessa Redgrave?) or to the Italian Riviera (another great one, Enchanted April) --

So this was my way of bringing Italy closer to me, by finding an old 1920s Italian grammar book filled with lovely phrases, and making these small collages.  And then something else came along, and they were slipped into a drawer until the other day.

Funny, though.  Once again they brought a smile to my face, a fleeting glimpse of standing on a canal or on a seaside cliff, speaking Italian effortlessly with the locals, sipping golden wine alongside my husband who would be draped in a soft linen jacket and wearing a panama hat just like Edward Fox in A Month by the Lake  (don't tell him about that point, though) . . .

Well, all I can say is that at least now I have finally renewed my passport -- that's a step in the right direction, which I believe is due east and about 3,000 miles away.  Ah, some day . . .

Venice, the flattering and suspect beauty - 

this city, half fairy tale