Shedding My Skin

You must follow the path that opens to you and you must never stop. And it will demand that you shed your skin, over and over and over again. Your skin must be shed for that skin is not the skin of a writer; it is the skin of whatever you were before.

—Stephen Harrod Buhner

The last time I blogged about decluttering I mentioned getting rid of all my grade-school artwork, and how good it felt to photograph the drawings I was most proud of before dumping it all in the blue recycling bin. I thought I'd post some of my favorite old drawings here.

 I really love the quote above from Stephen Harrod Buhner (in Ensouling Language), although I keep swapping the word "artist" for "writer" whenever I read it. It may seem kind of weird that tossing old-old artwork should feel so momentous to me, but it does. I'm finally making space for new images. (I'm not done yet though—I have more artwork from my early 20s to sort through!) 

Guardian Angels and Other Projects

 I've been meaning to blog about the long-sleeved tee I screenprinted for my mother for Christmas. One of my all-time favorite travel photos is of this lovely old headstone I found in Ardmore, County Waterford, and I knew Mumsy would appreciate being able to wear these "guardian angels."  I must confess that this project didn't proceed as smoothly as I'd hoped. The lines I'd painted (with the drawing fluid) were too fine and my printing technique was totally rusty (I can't believe I took Krista's class six months ago already), so I wound up having to handpaint most of the image. It was worth the painstaking effort though!  A few other things I've been making lately:  I'm on target with the garment-a-month challenge so far—I finished my project for January, which I'll blog about soon. Now for a dress! 

Squam 2012, part 3

(Me, stitching. Photo by Jessica Marquez, who has a book coming out soon!)

I leave for Squam again in a little more than three weeks. I've heard the "vibe" at the September session is quite different than the gleeful fiber-fest that is June, which is just one of many reasons I'm looking forward to the experience. The September session has painting and mixed media classes, jewelry making, and some rather "woo woo" stuff as well. I must say, I'm very excited for the "woo woo."Most exciting of all, though, is the writing workshop I will be facilitating on Saturday morning. I'll tell you more about it afterward, but here's a peek at my prep:

The workshop is called "No-Stress Storytelling." I'll be building on some of the exercises we tried out in my library sessions to get everyone creatively limbered up. Of course, they'll be coming off two full days of art workshops, so some people will be ready to go, but others will need a bit more encouragement. The prospect of a blank page can be paralyzing, especially when you have a nasty little voice in your head telling you you're not a writer, who do you think you are, blah blah blah. The beginning is a tender spot, and I want to honor that. So: there's no pressure. No one else is going to read what you write, unless you choose to share it. You are a writer--a writer is someone who writes, not just someone who has published a book or gets regular bylines. And so forth.Squam is usually on the surface of my thoughts, no doubt because I've been working on my embroidery from Rebecca's class:Bonnie put this photo of me (with Rebecca and Jeanne) on her blog, and it made me laugh. (See why below.)

Now check out my art club yearbook pictures:

(That's also me in the top left, holding my "Birth of Violet.")I like to think I've grown a great deal since Mr. Heusser took those photos in 1998/1999, but it's comforting to see that the best parts of me--that passion, that single-mindedness--those I get to keep forever.(Squam, part 1; Squam, part 2; Anne's post on Squam 2012.)