For weeks since returning from Portugal, my workshop table has been a holding cell for maps, passport, scraps, 5 or 6 glasses of half-empty water, 3 pairs of my reading glasses, screwdrivers, calculators, matches, bottles of lotion, a bra, a bag of bird seed. Then the fires and smoke and werewolves 6 and 7 year-olds arrived. Someone got tired, took naps, pushed the pause button.
At long last, after weeks of staring at the scene of the disaster, I cleaned my art desk. What a relief. Spanking white new brushes were found under the excavation site. This morning I endeavored to get them dirty. Success!
I wanted to collage and paint and scribble. You know… make a mess… in the pages of my visual journal. So this morning I did. It looks like I did it blindfolded, but I swear I didn't!
ITunes shuffle played in the background reminding me of songs I love, but haven't listened to in awhile. Music-glue-paint-paper-scissor bliss. Away I drifted in my little row boat across the choppy sea to smoother water. I imagined myself in a zocalo somewhere in the Yucatan. You'll know why I sailed off in that direction soon (!)
Today is the first day of my 3 day vacation. I have a visual journal calling my name, more brushes to dirty, a book to finish, and nothing standing in my way.
The Station Fire has been 49% contained as of today. Mt. Wilson
Observatory, the place where Edwin Hubble first discovered the
expanding universe, has been spared. The astronomical world surely breathed a heavy sigh of relief at that. I know I did.