Mojave Light Musing

Hello dear readers, I've appreciated the feedback and conversations surrounding my art collaboration and friendship with Ellen. Good food for the soul. Thank you! Today is day 3 of 7 in the 7 Days Series Ellen and I challenged ourselves with. We limited ourselves to a 5x7 work area, only using cyanotype chemistry (and maybe some additional 'secret chemistry' thrown in...), and printing on natural fiber papers conducive to receiving light sensitive solutions (as well as holding up to a lot of soaking and washing in water).  We do not confer with what the theme of the day is so it's a joyful surprise to each of us once we share the one print we are happiest with for that day. Take a look at the diptychs of our daily work on our  Two Women Talk  Instagram page to see how the pieces pair as well as follow what transpires on the series. We would love to engage in feedback and discussion as well - that's the rewarding part  - connection and discovery .  My reflections s

Hello kind readers! This is a bonus post from Two Women Talk as we have a fun announcement... Ellen and I have decided to do a 7 Day Series project in July. Something to celebrate summer, something to do while the heat keeps us in, something for the sheer fun of it while we experiment and practice our mutual love for analogue photography. During the week of July 5 - 12, we will each be making a handmade, camera-less photo, one every day, on 5x7ish natural fiber papers of our choice using sun sensitive chemistry - literally painting with light. Each photogram will be one of a kind, a unique creation difficult to reproduce due to the nature of the heat, light angle, exposure time, and amount of chemistry combinations. Unless they are measured and repeated exactly, the outcome will vary. I don't often exactly measure things - much like how I cook - I intuitively add ingredients as I go along..."that tastes about right, let's go with that" kind of approach. We are limitin

Here's what life in my desert is like right now: This morning, a helicopter is hovering over my neighborhood making many close passes overhead. Most likely it's the power company inspecting the lines and transformers as we've entered extreme heat time here (102-106 the next few days which is super hot for us...normal summer highs used to be 90s...) The air is smokey from a wildfire up towards my favorite mountain camping retreat. My heart is aching. Late last night, we had 5 men with radios and a woman in a getaway car casing houses, jumping fences, boldly walking into people's yards. We slept with the front and back lights on, also grateful for our shepherd with his deep bark and strong bite when needed. We slept okay. That is not typical for where I live. In fact, for years we barely locked our doors. I am grateful for a close knit neighborhood. We look out for each other. And in Ellen's world in the PNW? It's a cool 61ish degrees today, not to break 70 much o

Like many others during the height of the lockdown, I spent a lot of time on Zoom in webinars, workshops, and private gatherings to stay connected, sane, and either hone up on skills or learn something new. There were a lot of intriguing and serendipitous connections being made.  In this particular case, I cannot remember exactly when or how but I do remember where - Instagram - another alternative photographic printmaker and I connected over...one of her images? Mine? Another artist whose feed we both followed? Either way, one comment lead to another and then a mutual follow, a few back and forth messages, and then an idea blossomed... Through a few Instagram message exchanges, I learned this woman lived where I frequent - in a small community outside of Bellingham, WA - where I fly to in order to make a short drive to one of the islands to see family. Her art style is one I resonate with and admire greatly. We discovered quite a few parallels in our lives, like:  we both have adult s

re·con·struc·tion (n.)  /ˌrēkənˈstrəkSH(ə)n/     the action or process of reconstructing or being reconstructed. a thing that has been rebuilt after being damaged or destroyed.   3546 days.  9 years, 8 months, 16 days. 116 months, 16 days. 196 posts. That is how long I've had this blog. In nearly 10 years, it has been interesting, for me, to review where my thinking was when I started this site and where I am now. I almost thought about just starting over because my writings are going to be more on my artistic processes, projects, experiences and considerations on all things in my art life. Isn't art life? Isn't what we create a direct reflection of our internal landscapes influenced by the external ones?   So, I decided to just continue the flow from 3546 days ago because, in my reality, it's all pertinent. Several years ago (8 in fact), I spent some hard earned money on a defining your personal narrative workshop. It was a full weekend, small group of 5 participants,

Here's the short version: The rest of 2017-2018 is a blur.   Left a 35 year career in public education halfway through 2019. Gifted myself a custom built camper van to freely travel and be a full-time artist, open land advocate, and whatever else I wanted. In February, 2020, we were planning a wedding and awaiting the arrival of a new family member - my first grandchild.  Covid hit shortly after in full force. Granddaughter arrived despite Covid restraints and world events, healthy and as adorable as can be, thank God and FaceTime. The new little family is thriving and safe. Everything else turned to shit... Like you, I am trying to figure out what 'new normal' looks like as every day unleashes old and new circumstances to make sense of and navigate through. Grieving and creating are simultaneous, daily rituals. My thread of sanity is that I am not in this alone but in good company - as sad and frightening and frustrating as it all can be - I remain hopeful, most of the tim