.balsamroot season.

Balsamroot season is one of my favorites moments in the Shrub-Steppe landscape. The first declaration of spring and return of color to the foothills after a long dark winter. They don't stay long, so they demand attention. Depending on the year, maybe only a few weeks is all we get. I find myself walking the trails around town several times a week to not miss a moment. Last night, I went to a trail I haven't been to in a few days and was shocked to see so many blooms. I love this teenage awkward phase of blooms - slowly pushing towards full bloom, but not quiet. They each have their own personality. 

 

.spring equinox.

Happy Spring Equinox! It feels like the weather is a little bit ahead of the days, with 70 degree temperatures this past weekend, it feels like we jumped into summer. It's interesting with such a small space between a snow storm on the first weekend of March and 70 degree days, there's been little to no transition between the dark cold days and the increasingly long and warm ones. I can palpably feel the swell in energy. The hibernation is over and I jumped out of bed. 

I went paddling last weekend and not yet ready to head home, ventured out on a hike after. I'm ready to be outside all day. I found a copy of my favorite regional books, Washington's Channeled Scablands Guide and making a list of all my spring hike aspirations. I love the energy of spring. The wonder of finding wildflower blooms, the flash of color in the muted Shrub-Steppe landscape. Yesterday I saw the very first balsamroot petals emerging. It was the best surprise.

The Power Path says the equinox "marks and anchors a new path, a new trajectory and allows for the creative current of the time to forge its way forward and support progress as we envision the future." What creative projects are emerging? I feel like my head is overflowing with ideas. I'm also hungrily reading several books lately. 

Projects:

- Finding local color, inspired by a class with Alice Fox

- Finishing a winter sky inspired textile piece in response to a piece I made last year

- Walking memory - an exploratory abstract drawing from walks

- Basket weaving

- watching the spring wildflowers emerge

Books:

- Community: A Structure of Belonging by Peter Block

- The Cassandra by Sharma Shields (a Spokane author I met at the recent library conference)

- Coyote Stories by Mourning Dove, a Colville women

- Anita de Monte Laughs Last by Xochitl Gonzales

 I lit some candles yesterday and made some spring wishes. I'll leave you with a beautiful spring quote by Andrew Doerr, “A spring night is a power that sweeps through the crowded sheaves of blooming tulips and pours into your heart like a river.” 

.dark skies at confluence gallery.

I'm so thrilled to have two pieces in the current exhibit, Dark Skies at The Confluence: Art in Twisp.

How can I hold the wonder inside of me?

This piece was inspired by late-night stargazing in the North Cascades on Hwy 20. I was struck by a moment of deep awe in the mystery of the dark sky. The illusion of layers that emerge with a softened gaze. A moment of clarity washed over - that in fact nothing really matters - all the details and expectation and conditioning - life is a magical journey of deep learning. My journey is to stay awake and present. The dark skies remind me to release the limitations and to stay in wonder. The feeling stayed with me for a few days and I as reintegrate back into the busyness the truth faded, but this piece and the dark skies keep me connected to the larger and more expansive perspectives. 

Due to the dark nature of the piece the details are not as visible photographed. The dark stitching is subtle and provides an embodying effect around the center of the circle print representing the stars. The subtle nature of the darker stitches is intentional as it requires the viewer to focus and lean in with curiosity much like the dark skies.

Material: cotton, linen and hematite stones
Measurements: 46” x 22”

Expand into the Unknown

This piece is inspired by the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year. During a breath practice on the solstice last year I had a new awareness of the expansiveness of darkness. There is a need for balance and seasons. The season of darkness is an invitation to dive into ourselves to explore, to plant new ideas, to ignite wonder that will come to flourish in the season of light. I’ve been working on this piece over the past year as a contemplative practice to ask questions of the darkness, to be in practice of opening up myself, to allow myself to expand into the darkness, to listen. 

The piece is two layers of fabric densely stitched. As the stitching is dark, it is less apparent photographed. The subtle nature of the darker stitches is intentional as it requires the viewer to focus and lean in.

Material: cotton
Measurements: Measurements: 36” x 27”

You can listen about the exhibit on the Spokane Public Radio or read an article in the Wenatchee World. 

.dune trail on 35mm.

I finally developed a roll of film from my trip to the cape this past November. Of course, the roll was mostly pictures of the dune trail. I'm not sure why I hadn't done this walk before. Being that I went in November, I had the trail to myself - fully engulfed in the dunes. It's pure cape cod magic with undulating dunes just a few minutes drive from the seasonally chaotic ptown. Within a few minutes of walking, the presence of town and the highway fade away, transported to another world. Walking up and down the dunes, the views expand and contract, and sounds rise and fall. Then, after maybe a mile of walking in the sand, a final hill brings you to the wild open waters. The trail offers a short beach walk and then loops back inland. As you climb back up into the dunes, suddenly, tiny weathered dune shacks appear. These little artist retreats are the ultimate off-grid residency. I was reading The Creative Act by Rick Rubin (again!) this morning, and a quote stood out to me. He wrote, "when we build our awareness, the universe expands." The silence and solitude of these dune shacks - I wonder about all the art that has come from such an expansive space.

.leaving marks + the search for belonging.

I went to Spokane last weekend for the state library conference. Above is the view from my room, a new perspective of Spokane. It's interesting how a different view or a new neighborhood can alter a place. 

I went to the conference to present about my library programs from the perspective of programming building community. It fits well with the conference theme of belonging. It was exciting to be with peers and expansive thinkers who also want to push the potential of library spaces. For me, it felt that, for two days, I was a part of the larger community of librarians. The conference ended Saturday night, and I stayed until Sunday. Last year, I went to Spokane this time of year when the daylight and seasons are changing. It's a fertile time to rejuvenate with new ideas. The Northwest Museum of Art and Culture had four new exhibits. I stopped in as I was leaving town and was deeply inspired. The main exhibit was Harold Balazs' Leaving Marks. He was a longtime resident of Mead, a Husband and Dad of three who made art with unconventional materials with a deeper philosophical approach. 

Walking into the gallery, I fell in love with all of these doodles and shapes. There's something so raw and unfinished but organic about this approach. Then I read the wall posted below and felt the magic of this deeper well that he created art. I felt it. This powerful process of making art, not always understanding why, but the feeling the deeper/greater pull to interact and translate with space/place. 

"dedicated his practice to the simple, yet expansive, pursuit of wonder!"

Some of the conventional materials he worked with were styrofoam and cupstock (the paper that makes to-go coffee cups). I also loved his wood carvings and copper pieces. His work and artistic language seamlessly translated between mediums. 

The other exhibit featured another Spokane-based Venezuelan artist, Reinaldo Gil Zambrano, a woodblock artist. His work was so incredibly detailed that tell elaborate stories, very much based on his own family stories, memory, and the mystical. Viewing art like this feels like an invitation to sit inside someone's mind for a moment, not fully understanding but quietly sitting and observing a new world. What a beautiful thing to offer someone.

Then, on my way home, I finally made it to Coffeepot Lake. A place that a friend and a Scablands book had mentioned last year. It's in an isolated corner that makes it not close to anything. So I drove the long, empty, flat farm road until they dropped into more open scablands. Coffeepot seemed limited to explore but would be amazing to kayak. I also found another set of lakes about a 30-minute drive due to the muddy, almost-spring roads. The lakes are hidden gems. I can't wait to go back soon. There's something so magical about the vast and quiet ways of the scablands. 

 

.february on the Columbia river.

I explored the Palouse to the Cascades Rail Trail near Beverly this weekend. The partly cloudy skies always make for the best reflections on the river. On my walk back, I saw two bald eagles perched on a metal trestle. I was just about 20 feet away before they took off into flight. So incredibly majestic. 

February always feels like such a breath of fresh air after the long and dark winters. The days are getting longer, the sun is more frequent, and the colors are returning. 

.illuminated sky.

 The morning sky on January 30th, almost last day of the month, one day away from February. 

I noticed the first spark of color at 7:09 AM, the light is returning. I love watching the illuminating sunrises of almost spring. From 7:09 to 7:30 the dark sky crescendoed into an immersive golden glow and then slowly dulling into a cool watercolor pastel of blue pink by 7:35 AM. Winter is slowly fading.