a time for yellows

I went home for the holidays, and I hooked myself up to love, love, and more love. Sometimes, when I try to fill my heart up with words that sum up the way I feel about my family, it overflows with commas or exclamation points.
They are my eternal run-on sentence.
And so here I am, left now with thousands of pixels instead. Yellows and greens, honest blues, and fleshy fleshes. These photos fall over only a few days, and they play my heartstrings loud enough to break them.
What will I ever do with a lifetime?

doors, coffee filters, wine corks, and wood, oh my!

Too bad I don't have any trees to cut down.

Soon. 2 by 8 feet vertically on the wall.

Glass, an old door, and found paper. I imagine envelopes from hand-written cards.

This beautiful wall piece consists of many, old, letterpress blocks. I love it.

And keys?!! Yes please! (though, I would probably choose a different composition)

An installation by my friend, Alison Balcanoff. she uses old coffee filters in her work.

So really, this post is just a list of goals for me.

A source for collected color. Those tans, fleshy cork shades, burnt umbers, and the like.

I'm always searching for those old, old, old things. Now, the next time I go antiquing, I will pick up the jar of keys I usually pass by for lack of reason.

sharpie wallpaper

don't try this at home? or wait. do try this at home, just make sure you have an extra fifty dollars to buy a gallon of paint and painting supplies to cover it up if you, you know, make a mistake.

but wow. impressive. makes me want to draw lace all over my walls with gray micron pens.

on a "bold pick of the day" kind of morning, some beautiful color and form

These pieces are really really really awesome. They are by Michael Johansson. I just found out about him this morning in my design*sponge email. LOOK AT THAT FORM! He even utilizes color in his work. Clever. You get a two-fer.

Now, I will go learn more about him. So should you.

children

It says it on my bookmark. My name comes first, then yours. Our names one on top of the other like our bodies sometimes are. On top of table eleven, inside a perfect pair of parentheses. The dashes above my i's are spotted like rain, frozen in the middle of the air before you melt them and they land on the beginning of your A.
Just now, I jumbled all of the letters around and found the word, "children."

a late-night, photographic meandering on repeating form

whitney 2010 biennial announced

While I don't usually love this show as I much as I love the Venice Biennale,  I will still make my way over to NYC to see it. It's always something to see, and I walk away with at least twenty names of artists I want to learn more about.



a few I have already looked into and am excited to see:

dawn clements

 

suzan frecon

Hannah Greely

Emily Roysdon

I will never tire of seeing light through paper.

So I am also into design*sponge lately. They cover all sorts of design, from fashion, to interior space, to the lace tape I just learned about.

so, check out this post to get you intrigued.

a teaser.

funky tape.

tape of all patterns

So ridiculous..ly awesome. I think I would have too many uses for it!!

handwritten letters

My roommate mentioned something to me tonight as I was looking through my mail.

He sat on the washing machine and said, "you get a lot of handwritten letters." I had never really realized, but he's right. I keep the best ones in colored shoe boxes. Inevitably, every time I move and have to unpack, I open my heart to rummage through them (sobbing and laughing, back and forth) and I re-remember things I re-remembered the move before.

It gets me every time.

on how I would love to give a chandelier a nice home.

I just discovered www.cocokelley.blogspot.com

I'm going berserk about high ceilings, organized "clutter," and gold chandeliers. Olive greens and mauve. COLOR OVERWHELMS ME EVERYDAY.

look:

canada has artists, too!

Thank you, Annie Lynch , for posting this one day and allowing me to introduce myself to such a well-rounded artist. I like his aesthetic even more than I like his music (and I like the music A LOT).

hiroshi sugimoto's seascapes

I want to venture into my old sketchbooks to find things. While in class, at a museum, sitting on the floor at a gallery talk, in the car with my mother, etc. etc. I always write names and things down in my sketchbook. This means that I feasibly have thousands of tiny notes-to-self floating around in my many notebooks.

Tough. Here is something I found in the one nearest to me (oh my goodness, from fall 2006) as I write this:

Hiroshi Sugimoto's seascapes.

in an azure mood

This is one of my best kept secrets. Ella has one of my favorite voices. Although she is so renowned, this is one of the tunes she does that I don't think many people have heard. It took me over five years of dedicated listening to finally hear it. I happened to click past a documentary about her on television one quiet night, and this song was playing as images of a landscape passed by through the dirty windows of a train. I can almost remember the way the apartment smelled that night. I know it was cold outside.
This song is moody and pretty blue, but it resonates more than any song I've heard her do.

stephanie chubbuck's zipper skin

I also found a note in my 2006 sketchbook, Stephanie Chubbuck: pear made of wax with zipper discusses skin vs. interior

rachel braidman as an author

Rachel writes perfectly puncuated moments. Reading her words makes me remember how refreshing it feels when an afternoon starts raining on you and you didn't realize you wanted it to until it just did. I re-feel things that I forgot I felt years ago. She makes me wish for things in the future and notice the way the present tastes. Sometimes, I snuff my creativity and she reacquaintes us by reigniting the flame.

I let her stories swallow me whole. They are like passing tick marks on a road going somewhere wonderful. I feel them with my eyes closed.

I want to spray paint one of her breathtaking phrases onto a barn door near her new home. I want to write a thousand postcards with her prose and send them to twenty people in every state with her return address on it.

The world deserves to hear her heartbeat.

judy freakin pfaff

JUDY PFAFF


I never forget Judy Pfaff. Her work is colorful, linear, curvilinear, expansive, playful, dark, whooshing, bright, light and heavy (at the same time!), etc. etc. The list goes on. Just check her out. Now. Do yourself the favor. You won't regret it.

on lipstick

I feel like an adult. I can pay for my own dinner, I cross the street when I say it is okay, I can have sleepovers whenever I want to, and I don't have to tell anyone if I am coming home late. Lately I crave almonds, and I eat them whenever I want because I bought the bag, and I can't ruin my dinner if I'm the one who makes it.

I wore red lipstick yesterday because I felt beautiful when I wore it at my art opening the night before, and when I eagerly kissed Andrew, I smooshed it all over his face. He wiped it away with a playful, disgusted look. blegh.

Sometimes, it's nice to feel ten, too.