Author: freshcutfeelings

My art game has benefited greatly from a small town culture that breathes comfort through conformity. With no one else doing anything similar, I always get accepted into markets/shows/galleries/residencies. It is to the point where as an artist, I’ve never been rejected. That’s probably a problem. Seems like it’s time to make some leaps.
Speaking of:

I posted this photo online and suggested I’d offer a bouquet box program in 2020 to gather funds for a greenhouse. There was a lovely response and two asks to arrange floral wedding arches. It’s been awhile since I ran wedding decoration set ups. There was a lot about it I loved. Perhaps I’ll take on one a month for the 2020 wedding season to see if it feels right.

I will mention that I applied for a floral class scholarship and was declined. It was fair. I’m not ready. But I will be.

I started taking a prenatal multi-vitamin when I thought we could have biological children and was pleased to see that my fingernails swiftly fortified to absurdist claws. After the shake up, letdown and let go, I still take the vitamins but not as religiously and I’m always shocked that one missed pill turns these hardened razors limp and fragile. I looked down the other day to see a large chunk of one missing and my brain reacted the same way it would when encountering a visceral loss or flesh wound. A gut punch, all for nothing. To relieve the shock I had to TOUCH it with my other hand to fully acknowledge and cement that no pain or harm had resulted from the loss. They’re such a part of my reality/existence now that my brain panics at their loss. Why am I like this?

The paper I made from carrot tops for the larger gallery submission this year kept shrinking after the extended drying time allotted so they gave me my crate of pieces back between shows to see if I could address the warping before the next opening. I heard multiple cracks when I put it in the press so I’ve vowed to worry about it incessantly for 48h and then peek. I wanted to add more texture to the focal piece as well and I’m feeling decent about that.

When I submitted the pieces, I never wanted to see them again. At the first opening I cried while I stood in front of it all for the artist photo. I wasn’t even looking in their direction. I couldn’t.

Everyone was so kind at that opening. I wish I could recall the nice things they said. I do remember how the thoughtful words slowly seeped in and warmed me to finally turning around to look at the pieces, this time through their feedback/eyes. Now, when I see it up, I still feel the sorrow but there’s also some pride. Living through it, trying to express it, sharing what I could. If its reception hadn’t been so generous, so validating, where would I be with all of this? I’m grateful that I was able to turn the grief into something people connected with. I didn’t know I could do that.

Dreaded winter has arrived for keeps. The neighbours directly across the street have their tree up. To stave off hibernation season, it is instead Full Steam Ahead for Friendship Craft Gatherings!

November Playlist. On repeat.

There were two gladiolus stragglers that bloomed in the lull between the hard frost and this deep freeze that will hold me under ice for six months. Warm indoors, I find myself staring past them on the windowsill to the white blanket that has reduced a once vibrant landscape to nothing, or nothing that’s accessible. My greenhouse fund is real and it’s really quite vital. I have to limit lifting the coverings over my less hardy plants just to see dirt and touch something green. The garden has always been a coping mechanism and source of stress relief but I am feelingly the loss of it much more dramatically this year (clearly).

Nov 18th Update: I continued to fail at not lifting those coverings and went back for those roses:

Dear Everyone,
Do you happen know how small a cosmo seed is? Do you know how truly (and I’ve never used this word before) GIMONGOUS the resulting plant can grow? Because it is ALARMING. The low branches (ripped off and standing up) are even taller than me. What sort of agricultural alien nonsense is this. I’m going to make fences and grow all my container climbers on them next year. Just wait.

The first hard frost always knocks the wind out of me. Sheltered by their brethren, these blossoms are now all that remain. After the day dried out it was on to seed collecting, soil amending, garlic planting and some leafy shenanigans. Stick around, autumn.

October vibe.

The wrap up to the month long music quest.

Continue reading “Week Long Art Meltdown” →

Tunes

I drank a wasp. I slept alone. 

Returning home to my grandmother’s hibiscus in full bloom: