Sisters

Drew and Maya in Sinking Springs

I need a new moleskin. I'm filling in margins now.

There's something I love about Pennsylvania. It's so close to Maryland, my childhood, and my home, but  it's a little off center, and even a bit mysterious.

I've wanted to be there a few times this semester.

Alexander

Perfection

That girl in the airport.

She’s reading books by Dave Eggers. 

She’s eating almonds for snacks 

and has a best friend--a boy

sitting next to her.

And you can bet they’ve rock climbed together, 

or gone to Norway together,

and maybe even decided to be just friends.

And there’s a 30 percent chance her name is Kate. 

And that she exercises daily.

I started a tumblr...

yikes. I said it.

http://treesclaptheirhands.tumblr.com/

This blog here is still my art blog...the tumblr is a photography experiment thing-ish.

Dear Joanna Newsom,

You are everything I stand for in art. 

peacethief

part of a larger project.

In the quivering forest...

Went to Sundance with Audrey from Massachusetts and Claire from Germany today. Talking philosophy in the mountains is just what one needs on a crisp Saturday. We all appreciated that lovely decaying leaves smell that always gets the East Coast nostalgia going.

the littlest greyhound in all of norway

temporary

"Temporary." Drypoint. Self portrait. 6"x9"

Drypoint means that instead of etching into beeswax on the copper, I just used needles and burins on the copper without putting any acid on the lines or anything.

Monkey and Cat

Micron Ink with Photoshop

Referenced from a picture that I saw one time in an old 80s National Geographic.

Two Different Approaches

Blue Gel Pen, 1st Drawing

Pencil, 2nd drawing

I think I like the pencil one better. What do you think? C'est quoi tu trouves?

Also, I want to share a little quote. I'm reading this wonderful book called Imaginative Writing by Janet Burroway, and one of the things that struck me was,

"'The progress of any writer' said great poet Ted Hughes, 'is marked by those moments when he manages to outwit his own police system.'"

This rings so true for all you drawing and painting "theorists" out there, does it not? It applies so well to all creative pursuits, I believe, which means that it applies well to our human mind. For some reason it's when we least expect it that we do something we actually like.

intaglio shmintaglio

Bon-a-tirer! What, what. My first intaglio print EVER.

This is an anting blue jay. What is anting, you ask? Simply when a bird (typically a jay) lands on an ant mound, the ants get into their feathers and clean their feathers pretty well. And, hey, he might just eat some of the ants while he's feeling hungry. A pretty good deal for him, not so much for the ants. Its like going through a carwash and then eating the carwasher.

Anyways, I thought it was an interesting phenomenon, donc, Voila! Hope everyone had a good labor day.

change of scenery

I am officially back in Provo, which is a lovely place in the summer. It's hard to believe that in but a few months I will be cursing the cold weather and the icy pathways to class. I've been running up these sunflowered hills every day, trying to get acquainted with Utah's natural beauty, which is something I didn't really let myself do last semester. Running tends to help me do that.  Also, I have an intaglio class this semester, for which I am thoroughly excited.

      

       

       

But always up the mountainside you're clambering,

Groping blindly, hungry for anything,

Picking through your pocket linings--well, what is this?

Scrap of sassafrass, eh sysiphus?

do not underestimate

the power of the backs of peoples heads in church. Just a little sacrament sketch.

un renard

my animal preferée. ink on watercolor paper, soaked in coffee grounds.

I feel like I'm developing a phobia of...

mushrooms.

Is that weird? To be honest, its all because of this poem that

Maya showed this to me. There's this category of art in the world that is beautiful in its sheer creepiness.

Mushrooms
by Sylvia Plath

"Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door. "

Isn't that chilling?
And, apparently mushroom phobias are a real problem. There's even an ezine article about dealing with them:
You Are Not Alone In Your Fear Of Mushrooms. My favorite quote is "Most of us treat a trip to the supermarket as a common necessity, not a challenge. To the person with a fear of mushrooms the supermarket trip requires careful planning." Is anyone thinking what I'm thinking? So much untapped comedic potential. 

(P.S. Pay no attention to what time this was posted at.)

only skin

l'arbre tombée

In Old Lyme Connecticut there are wonderful, fern-filled woods. Me and Maya went out one day and we found a humongous fallen tree. It left a pond of water behind it and its roots were tangled.

maya and a bird

My sister loves every winged thing that exists. She's been trying to convince my dad (who only likes cats) for two years that she needs a bird. As a replacement for her lack of a bird, she often goes outside and finds nests of cardinals and mockingbirds. She has been attacked by many a momma bird.

red-tailed hawk

I saw a red tailed hawk today in flight down at Phinizy Swamp. Phinizy Swamp is now my favorite place in Augusta. It just beat the Savannah River Walk. My sister joined a bird watching club there, so I spent a few hours there waiting for her this morning, walking through the swampy landscapes (which can get quite incredible). I saw a couple of different birds of prey and a large blue heron while I was there.

This is an 8"x10" watercolor and ink painting. This will be on my etsy shop shortly and also on display at the bean baskette café at the library.

your precious long face

My aunt and uncle live in a suburban Pennsylvania in a town called Sinking Springs.

Just a few days ago, I was taking a gravel road back to their house during a run, and while doing so I stumbled across this little dead baby deer. I found her at the top of a grassy hill and I almost ran onto her body accidentally. After I registered what she was, I couldn’t help but stare at the fawn for a few minutes. I’m not really a death-centered person in general, but for some reason this little deer struck me as very interesting and a little bit nice in her fallen state. She didn’t smell bad; Her fur and bones seemed to be, for the most part, all that was left. 

discoveries

there's a light in the wings, hits this system of strings,
from the side while they swing,
see the wires, the wires, the wires

une promenade du matin

Nor'eastern Sketches

I found these bad boys on my computer. I drew them in New England not but a month ago.





Oh, and.....I'M GOING BACK TO THE NORTH!!! FOR THE THIRD FREAKIN' TIME THIS SUMMER. CAPS LOCK.

FYI, I LOVE CAPS LOCKED CONVERSATIONS WITH LIZ.

grandpa's hands

the swamp after dawn

The southern lands are pretty in their own marshy and humid way. And sometimes I don't respect that enough.

After a little morning jog around the hood, I rested and drank water in the piano room. I heard movement upstairs and saw my mom walking around with her purse on her shoulder.
"Maya and I are going to Phinizy Swamp. You can join us if you'd like."
"Okay."

Tatyana's Letter

I've been reading some of this Alexander Pushkin guys' stuff lately. I watched the film Onegin the other day and it hit a note, so I checked out his poems. I love this following passage as the young impressionable Tatyana writes a desperately honest love letter to the worldly and handsome Onegin. Keep in mind that this was all written in Russian and translated to rhyme in the English language.


"Another!… No, no one on this earth
Is there to whom I'd give my heart!
That is ordained by highest fate…
That is heaven's will - that I am yours;
My life till now was but a pledge,
Of meeting with you, a forward image;
You were sent by heaven of that I'm sure,
To the grave itself you are my saviour…
In dreams you have appeared to me,
Though yet unseen, I held you dear,
Your glance and strangeness tortured me...
Before you the tears roll down my cheek,
And your protection I beseech
Deserving, I know, reproach and scorn."

In Onegin's later utter refusal of her offer of love he responds,
"But I was not born for happiness;
It is foreign to this tortured mind;
Your perfections are so much nothingness
To me, I am of the unworthy kind.
Believe me (my conscience is here guarantor),
As spouses we would suffer agony,
For, however much I adored you first,
Custom would cool me instantly.
Then you would weep, but all your tears
Would leave unmoved my stony heart
You interpret my heart, my nature,
as you wish to believe it.
In truth, I have no secret longing to be saved from myself."


Yes.
Pushkin I think, might just be Russia's Shakespeare.
(OR is Shakespeare England's Pushkin? TWIST!)

Birds of My Neighborhood.

Natural history is kind of what I'm feeling, so I'm going for it.
I figured I'd start with birds that I see in my backyard and on my feeder all the time. The oriole was something I spotted the other day while sitting by the pool. I don't think I've ever seen one in Georgia until now.
Top to Bottom,
Left to Right:
cardinalis cardinalis (Cardinal), icterus spurius (Orchard Oriole), archilochus colubris (Ruby-Throated Hummingbird), peucaea aestiralis (Bachman Sparrow)

Un Arbre de Georgie

une jolie fille et la boite

I'm into awkwardness lately.

Ink on a wood panel.

Not finished, bien sur.

I'm thinking of painting it...peut être .

Fox attack!

Mimba

My bulimic, senile, and very drawable cat.