Iteration Number Twelve: Old Mills and Makers

Last weekend, we all flew up to New Hampshire to see Adrianne's sister graduate with her Master's degree. I'd been there once before, but we flew into Logan and spent most of our time in Boston. This time, we flew into Manchester, which is a tiny airport by comparison. It actually reminds me a little of Burbank — my favorite airport to fly in and out of when I go back to visit Southern California. We arrived pretty late and most of the airport was closed. Usually they are so chaotic with passengers arriving and departing but after midnight, everything is quiet — especially in these smaller, regional airports — and they feel strangely surreal, as if finally allowed to exhale from the busy day.

Iteration Number Nine: Better to be Doing

It took me those years to realize that it didn't matter where, or even if the things I make are displayed anywhere outside of my own home or studio. That's not the point. The point is that they exist and were made and released into the world. The point is to make — to conjure an intangible something from the ether of nothing and mold it, shape it, form it into a tangible something. The art is in the transformation. That's the point and it's something that I didn't realize when I put my brushes down.

Iteration Number Eight: Permission Seems to be the Hardest Word

I've been thinking a lot about words, lately — more than usual. I love words. Always have. Not just as language, but the words themselves. The way they sound when spoken, the way they look when written and what they mean or represent beyond the Merriam-Webster definition. For example, my grandfather never carried a wallet, he carried a billfold. You could argue that they are literally representative of the same thing, but the meaning or what they evoke — at least for me — can be significantly different.