Tuesday, June 29
Monday, June 28
Sunday, June 27
Friday, June 25
...and off to the beach we went, my friend and I.
Wednesday, June 23
It's a scorcher out there. On the way back from the beach, we heard on the radio the expected high was 96... But the day is here and, although undeniably warm, is not impossible. Many glasses of iced water are being drunk.
Monday, June 21
Saturday, June 19
Friday, June 18
Wednesday, June 16
Tuesday, June 15
Monday, June 14
Here's some more beachy love. (Please excuse the cat hairs: I always bring a few with me everywhere I go and sprinkle them around, so it feels like home.)
Thursday, June 10
Wednesday, June 9
A rainy day here. Great for the pepper and basil seeds. Great for the split and replanted herbs ~ and I'm glad someone took the free brown-bagged white iris I put out curbside before the bag got rain-sodden.
Tuesday, June 8
Monday, June 7
Sunday, June 6
One day this winter, while looking through a stack of various library books I'd brought home, I came across this paragraph on the life of the caterpillar:
"The caterpillar, now encased in a hard outer shell (the chrysalis), becomes a pupa - seemingly lifeless and inert. But inside the hard outer shell, an amazing transformation is taking place. The tissues and structures of the caterpillar are being broken down and replaced with the tissues and structures of the adult butterfly. If development is proceeding straight through, this process usually takes one or two weeks. Or the pupa may enter a resting state for a few months, or for the winter."*
This reminded me so strongly of the incredible transformations we as humans go through, from birth to death: growing and changing in our bodies and then, finally, in adulthood, experiencing inner changes that can shift the very matter of our abilities, perspective, and being. Just as with the different types of caterpillars, this occurs in different speeds of change for people, too. My work for this show uses symbols, like that of the butterfly, in conjunction with materials and poems that reflect our changing, and yet familiar, inner worlds.
*Butterflies of North America, by Jeffrey Glassberg