Mojave Light Musing

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,