finding where


Answer July—

Where is the Bee—
Where is the Blush—
Where is the Hay?

Ah, said July—
Where is the Seed—

Where is the Bud—
Where is the May—

Answer Thee—Me—

– Emily Dickinson

image: ‘beyond saving’, painting with mixed media on wood panel

july . 8 . 2018


“Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair.”

– Susan Polis Schutz

image: ‘new day rising’, watercolor, wax crayon, graphite, tissue paper, on paper

june . 5 . 2018


“When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop,

striped and dotted with continents and islands,

flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one,

the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty.”

— John Muir
image: sunrise at Kunjapuri Temple, India
may . 07 . 2018


“There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.”

– Pema Chodron

image: ‘flow’, monotype print on paper

april . 6 . 2018


Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes.

If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,

the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings. – Rumi

march . 9 . 2018


After everything,
I will love you
As if it were always before
As if, after so much waiting,
Not seeing you
And you not coming,
You were breathing close to me forever.

Close to me with your habits,
With your colour and your guitar
Just as countries unite
In school room lectures,
And two regions become blurred
And there is a river near a river
And two volcanoes grow together.

Close to you is close to me
And your absence is far from everything
And the moon is the colour of clay
In the night of quaking earth
When, in terror of the earth,
All the roots join together
And silence is heard ringing
With the music of fright

Fear is also a street
And among its trembling stones
Tenderness somehow is able
To march with four feet
And four lips

Since without leaving the present
That is a fragile thing
We touch the sand of yesterday
And in the sea
Love reveals a repeated fury

– Pablo Neruda

image: detail of ‘love dream’, mixed media monotype print, with organza, water based ink, thread, botanical matter residue, on paper

february . 2 . 2018

rise up

When I rise up above the earth,
And look down on the things that fetter me,
I beat my wings upon the air,
Or tranquil lie,
Surge after surge of potent strength
Like incense comes to me
When I rise up above the earth
And look down upon the things that fetter me.

– Georgia Douglas Johnson

image: ‘window #2’, monotype print with chine colle

january . 1 . 2018