I am staring out the window. Lake michigan, the rhino cage at the zoo and a very old and very beautiful conservatory are across the street. The weather is dreary, and I am continuously aware of this new limbo that has been created by the shift that has taken root and charge in me. So, again, in an effort to touch my feet to the ground I write about some of my recent dearest(s). Sophie felt sorta arms length(and I remember why darling S) until all of the sudden, not at all. What a charming woman- discreet giggler(when important), sincerely aware and cautious- then an under current of wildly fun and fantastic dancer. Hm. Excellent combination. Wish I knew more too. I was and continue to be touched by the last minute connections that were made in what was my safe haven/ studio. If I cared to wrap things into one lesson-which I don't- but will go ahead and dramatize for a moment- I would dare to say that each time I thought about being available and then chose to do so- I was so sweetly met by surprisingly open hearts. Sophie was one of them. We had, what, 10 minutes talking alone and that's all it took. Sold. Smooth next door to me- constantly questioning everything I said- and flipping most questions I asked- then saying something simple and generous- reminding me a little of who I am(gently). I appreciate his willingness to keep talking- plus, we were kind of an amazing karaoke duo. That's super hard to find. No woman no cry, lauren hill and wyclef- all branded now. Never satisfied with his work- and always somehow working. Described his family in a way that had me thinking I know what they look like. Maiko is another surprise. Wasn't hard to like her work and even more- to love what must be her- because she made it...I feel careful of exposing much- but would like to say I saw her floating around the periphery, and am still thinking now, the center of things would be better with you in it. We were like, kindred, somehow both part of that ballsy and equally fragile family.
Right now I am still on vacation. Minor panic attack this morning- I speculate due to lack of making and digging. It feels dumb to continue to miss you all so much, as we are adults, far passed the first kisses and late night sardine games of summer camp. But I like to think my missing carries more weight for me the second time around- since I've done this before, chose it again and somehow miss it/you/myself there- more this time. The best I can do with that is write in here as if you are receiving a letter from me (which some of you will) and as if you'll read this and some of my work will be done as my care for you settles into your skin- through the layers and maybe softens the blows of words and people that fling themselves and their tongues around with no thought in the world of where it lands and where it might hurt.
My life is dear, and moving and good. I love it , am proud of it, am living it. AND vermont stole my heart completely separate from that. One heart two worlds. Very pleased.

My current muse...or keeping some momentum

I'm about to traipse around Chicago by myself for the day, but since i just opened and looked at all the individual studio portraits for this last month AND the sweet group photo- I thought I'd post a pic for those at home....I'll write of my Chi-town adventures later....mwah!

last night with (most) everyone in Johnson



I'm spinning a bit with the events of the past month-walking on a Saturday morning with Alec- one of the first to ask who i was away from this place. Reminding at important moments who i am(although maybe he would call it reflecting). Investing in the possibility of and then the very true connection we share. Changing my sleep patterns, so that i became more accustomed to the late-night freeze around 3am than the glisten of an early morning- as is usual. I am reading reading reading Patti Smith's book, "just Kids" and thinking----"My God, I am an artist" Somehow I'm finally believing that. Kathleen helped convince me to move forward only on an artful path for now- she will visit in a couple of weeks- originally arriving in Ojai for a silent retreat and now extending things a bit to hike and soak in some hot springs with me. I am planning and scheming, reading the words of Patti and then drifting, when inspired, into day dreams of returning to Vermont, figuring out who my audience is and how to travel for arts sake. Ed Smith listed schools for me to apply to, telling me i fit in a particularly great group of metal working/jewelery women that are doing something else with it- because we have balls. Which i appreciated- a lot. A good amount of those i loved this last month had been divorced, or struggled through, and were married still, after finding each other as young artists a bit lost and passionate, agreeing to always have each others backs and never promising not to change. One woman told me she married her first husband, saying to him- " I know we are supposed to do this, that i have some life to do with you AND I know we aren't going to stay married"- my words there, but you get the gist. They were married 6 or 7 years- a long time ago- and remain friends. Another friend said to me in the context of his re-marriage after divorce, "once you say you are choosing someone for life, and it doesn't last for life- it is very hard, if not impossible, to say "for life" again. This is not speaking in opposition to deep commitment, or true and faithful love that lasts- but instead recognizing how the break down and break up of a life commitment often moves us (if we're lucky) into a very real commitment to staying present- day to day- room for change- no room for shame- sort of thing. The word promise took on a different energy for me.
I was privileged to hear sweet Bill Frisell play music to a packed house of maybe 50, and a few nights before that to about 30 of us. He accompanied Liz, from Australia, who led us in rounds. Casey- improve theatre troop girl led us in hilarious games which some kind of pretended to hate- but shit man- we are a bunch of artists who can not say no to most experiments.
snuck away from the crowd to bravely throw myself into river for the first time in my underwear(with a few companions)- we came out the other side of the muddy trail between bushes- to find we were not the first undy clad group to think of the river that afternoon. so we froze together- bonding and soaking up sun on the mossy rock before being forced to toss ourselves back in to get to the other side.



sweet heather rummaging through her insides to meet me half way with an exercise in mind vs. heart in a truly amazing collaborative experience/installation- titled: the importance of words no.2. Hopefully there will be a no.3 and 4 etc.-as we have found each other kindred and connected. Me, dancing that fine line of being "all in" without losing my ground or my mind.


Nick is as generous a man as the best i have met: snarky edges- soft insides-man of character...plus, he made me a kick-ass knife AND a small and perfect anvil so that i can work all night without waking the neighbors. Now that is a nocturnal metal worker response to my whining-for sure. Also got me out of the crazy and into the woods for views and fall smells- huge points. If i could bottle the faces, voices, laughter, and inappropriate shares of Mr.Harlan Mack, I most certainly would-keeping me up on my toes and laughing. Sure to have a sip of good whiskey waiting for me-over a chat while he works on rollin a cigarette and keeps a wandering eye on his lovely wondering dog ada(aida?)...then will, William, encyclopedia of everything and surprise late night poet on occasions when(I'm guessing)particularly touched and cozy with his surrounding company. Erin, my favorite weaver, very quietly nudged me open with her young and absurdly wise self- winning the hearts of many-even as she is sure the old ladies don't like her for her body covered in tattoos-but come on- she's got "TREASURE" written across her mid-section. How bad can a girl be?! Not bad at all. Just bad-ass-weaving-maniac. Not unusual to find Jesse at her side. The two of them wide-eyed, i swear telling secrets, and bringing a sweet amount of joy to each others situations. Jesse making amazing site-specific installation- or maybe you'll find him making gross(and awesome)bra tops out of people's hair- to be modeled with a watermelon bracelet that flings juice at you as she saunters by-leaving you unsure if you've just been sprayed by the hairy bra. yuck and yum at once. kinda. Darling Arista, so surprised by her own indulgence of our group of residents. As a staff member, usually keeping herself more protected from the monthly goodbyes. She sank into us and i trust felt received. we shared some good, sloppy, tearful evenings together. I am grateful i sometimes push past the fear of loss in order to invest and connect even for a short time. It is hard today, but my love and care for these dear people(there are more to be spoken of tomorrow...)so outweighs the grief, i cant help but sit in the shock of change. Repeating, thank you thank you thank you- as i finally own my place, privilege and choice to be an artist- an observer- a sponge and someone who challenges.

BVT-PHL-CHI Oct.22, 2011

I have been so silent since I arrived at the studio center a month ago. I will slowly insert myself back into the real world, dragging my heart out of art camp...so forgive me, if i am all over the place...or too short when i should be long- or too long when i should be short.

I am posting a video of an art- maybe installation?- i was involved in. It is nostalgic and sweet for me to watch, but probably wont mean much to any that weren't there. I will continue to add other photos of the surrounding area and, of course, the artwork and life change that was made and developed while i was away.

So, this video was the documenting of a piece done by a man named Matthew. He is a quiet man. Spent most days blowing up hundreds of balloons and then filling areas with them- like his studio-so we could jump in them etc. The video covers a moment when he decided he wanted to release a few hundred into the river. It's freezing cold and he needs a bunch of us to get into the river at the other end and catch any strays before they pop and choke the local wild life...

Abut 300 Balloons Matt Callinan