hello cool blustery monday. i’m just here inside the pages of my newest visual journal.
this is what the sky is doing:
i cleaned out my flat file paper cabinet and found some vintage postage.
i’ve taken a renewed interest in cancelled postage. how nice to use neglected ephemera from the paper vault.
here’s what i intend for my new book. some cut & paste, some drawing & paint, some random recording of thoughts.
a record of my time on planet earth. of a sunday night in los angeles when the wind was blowing and the people of paris were still reeling, but increasingly hopeful.
i was deep in thought and no page in any of my books could contain all the words, but i got a few down. there’s a lot to consider. so many ways to think about what has happened.
this morning the trees were still shaking. acorns and leaves and small branches fallen like a carpet across the streets and sidewalks. the wind was howling. the sun was blazing. the world was intensely alive.
back to the pages of my newest book.
an envelope from long ago sent to me by someone…i can’t remember who. i cut it out knowing i would put it in one of my books one day. thank you. (no longer my p.o. box)
and finally, a house i passed on my morning walk.
so many different houses. so many different lives being lived just beyond these windows and doors. i’ve referenced this quote so many times on my blog, but it’s because i think of it so often. and find it so beautiful.
A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!
i’m glad we’re learning more about the people who lost their lives in paris. all those unique human beings. i want to know about them. and i want them to know that who they were is being seen.
over and out from los angeles friends. be safe. be warm.