It begins with a single squeaky note, like a neglected gate hinge, but then it undulates moving up and down on the heavy motionless air, an ancient song declaring the sacredness of summer. Summer temperatures arrived weeks ago, but it is the recital of this ancient song that marks the summer season for me. As a solo, the song feels mournful. But as a chorus, it is a cacophony of community.
I spotted the first hollow shell days ago, a delicate parchment sculpture clinging to the rail. I must have been distracted because the significance didn’t occur to me. But two evenings later when I heard the mournful solo, my ears pricked and my heart leapt- “the song of summer”. That’s the moment I recalled the parchment husk—- Where did I see it? When did I see it? Those details are lost to me.
Life’s like that. Small observations barely noticed- but later they rise into our consciousness like neon zeppelins. Lately I’ve been trying to open myself to the forgotten observations that have brought me to today. That sounds estoteric, but it’s not. It’s really just me trying to discern how I became the “me” of today. Sometimes a little memory lights up and I connect another dot.
The little light that shone this week? A sudden remembrance of the year my mother purchased picture books for me. I can’t remember if it was Christmas or my birthday- only that I was no longer a child. But she knew me well enough to know that pretty illustrations were my shiny objects.
In the glow of this light another observation lit up- Jan Brett. When my children were young, I LOVED buying them books and reading to them. The great thing about toddlers is that YOU can choose the books! And after discovering the totality of a Jan Brett illustration, I purchased many Jan Brett titles (thank you, Kohl’s.). The stories were afterthoughts. I fell in love with her style, each illustration flanked with illumination of sort.
Last week I became re-acquainted with Fables and the artwork of Mark Buckingham. Years ago the stories intrigued me, but this time I brought fresh eyes to the newly launched title. THIS time, I drank in the art FIRST. Observing myself, I surprised myself. Why didn’t I see the art 20 years ago? Perhaps I did. Memory is a fickle thing.
From the abandoned shell to the newly discovered comic page, I am connecting dots, I am excited to find the next, and the next. Do you connect dots?
In the Studio
The snail and thrush are two of my watercolor sketchbook entries I completed this month. The thrush is flanked with illumination-inspired panels.
Since May I have loaded a ton of new products into my Society6 store, including desk mats, beach towels, acrylic trays, wrapping paper, and so much more! I am really proud of these designs! Use the links to take a peek. While there, follow my shop, drop some hearts on your fave products, and check out their Sale! Promotions regularly rotate.
As always, you can acccess my entire Society6 shop from the Shopping tab.
Introspection is so important! Good for you for connecting the dots. Sometimes I am more successful at that than others, but every dot leads us to where — and who — we are today! Your artwork is also stunning!
Thank you, Lynn. I appreciate the kind words. I’m certain we all have some moments when we are more successful at introspection than others. Sometimes it feels like the world simply doesn’t want us to slow down and look inward!