Goodbye 2016

The idea I keep embracing that pushes me out of bed every day, is art gets us through the very worst of times. 

I've put my lovely pale yellows, pinks and blues aside for awhile and I can't stop with the deep blue. 

The cello of deep blues. 

Indigo, Cobalt, Cerulean, Linen, French, Lattier, Phthalo, Provence, Royal, St. Remy, Ultramarine and Turquoise Deep. 

Maybe I'm in mourning. 

I keep craving the lakes in Maine I visited as a child, Pemaquid, Biscay and Damariscotta.

I'll give it some time. I have a few more of these I'm working on.

The serene and innocent Pantone picks for 2016 

don't seem relevant anymore.

Pantone is putting its money on a very hopeful green for 2017.

Those picks from Pantone always seem awkward at first, 

then they find their way into our hearts,
attitudes, clothing and dishes.
So I'm going give PMS 15-0343 a chance. 

And of course, green is next to blue on the color wheel.

Huge Breathe Coming Through The Heart

I finally got back into the painting studio this past week after a few weeks dedicated to the sale of my work. It felt so good, like a gorgeous blue sigh. This is what I painted. I do love you blue. Each and every one of you blues. 

My friend Claudia came up with a brilliant description for this one-
"like a huge breathe coming through the heart"

Atlas Sits Down (on her sofa)

This week I feel like I'm living in my new home. After months of being Atlas carrying every little bit of my stuff on my back, I can say we have a functioning kitchen, a nice room to wake up in and I know where my shoes are. The move was monumental. Like having a baby or throwing a wedding. I can now make more art.
I'm so grateful I was able to take every object I own from it's place on a shelf, hold it, consider it's value and decide if it's a keeper or something I send back out into the universe. It was lonely but also celebratory. I had so many friends help with the process and remind me of my Alyn-ness. 
Because the unpacked boxes in the house (I can't yet think about the toolshed) are really countable on two hands, I hung out here with one year old Wallace yesterday. Introducing tiny ones to things that are bumpy or  fluffy or  smooth or  shiny or  smell good and watching the reaction has always been one of the joys in my life. I've been reminded what it is that I love about things, especially beautiful ones. Someone made them. They thought about a need and used their imagination to dream up and produce an object for me to fall in love with. 
Thank you makers of beautiful things. Pretty nice I don't have to own to love.

“I love
all things,
not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling
but because,
I don’t know,
because
this ocean is yours,
and mine:
these buttons
and wheels
and little
forgotten
treasures,
fans upon
whose feathers
love has scattered
its blossoms,
glasses, knives and
scissors –
all bear
the trace
of someone’s fingers
on their handle or surface,
the trace of a distant hand
lost
in the depths of forgetfulness.”

From Neruda's "Ode to Common Things"

My favorite tiny vase. 
Card from Chrissy seems to  be the colors 
I want around me right now.

Rough Linen bed set crumples beautifully.

Almost parted with the manicurist
vanity and chair. So happy I didn't.

Fresh paint from Sunday.
 Finally back to painting.