This week in the studio

...I continued to explore the up side of the blues.

This handpainted blue daisy is matted on textured papers and mounted on 80 lb cardstock. It's a sweet way to cheer up someone who may be feeling blue.

I used a rubber stamp from Stampington to heat emboss a heart onto handpainted paper. The image is swathed in organdy ribbon and mounted on dry embossed 80 lb cardstock. A perfect Valentine, anniversary card, or hug in an envelope for someone you love.

And I can't seem to stay away from collage cards these days. This one is made almost entirely from handpainted papers mounted on 80 lb cardstock. Frame it, mail it, give it to someone you love or stand it on your desk.

All cards in this set measure 4.25" x 5.5" and come with silky smooth white envelopes. They are blank inside but if you wish I can add a sentiment (Thinking of you, Happy Birthday, Happy Valentines Day, etc.). I can also decorate the envelopes with hearts or flowers if you wish. Just let me know.

The set costs only $15 plus $2.50 shipping and handling. To order, reference "Blue can be a happy color" and send an e-mail with your shipping info to veronica@v-grrrl.com. I will arrange for payment via PayPal and mail your cards in padded envelope.

Thank you!

Little altars

I read a post by a blogger about making an altar to your writing.

I thought, hmmm, not my thing.

Then I looked around the house and realized I had been creating altars to my Muses without realizing it. Behold the evidence:

I am continually inspired by the natural world. It permeates my writing, my art, my life style. The rhythm and complexity of the seasons, the wealth of color and texture, the hidden realms outside my door are all part the extraordinary experience I glean from the ordinary things that surround me. This basket, on top of a cabinet, holds small treasures I've gathered on my daily walks as well of mementos of the holidays: egg shells, feathers, seed pods, pebbles, a cicada shell, the wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey, a slice of wood from the trunk of my Christmas tree.  The wooden vase next to the basket was carved for me by a friend from a piece of walnut. The dried plants that it holds are 30 years old, gathered from the riverbanks where I swam as a teen.

The small sculpture, candles, stones, and image of kokopelli were given to me over the years by my husband, son, and daughter. Because of that, this little altar represents my connection to my family as well as to the natural world. It sits in my studio.

Finally, on the wall of my studio is an inspiration board full of images, symbols, souvenirs, correspondence and works of art that remind of the people, places, and things that encourage or inspire me. It is simply my altar to happy and beautiful. I wish it were bigger. : )

Now that I've shown you my little altars, tell me about yours. What, you say you don't have any? Look around, I suspect you do. 

Book Review: The Daily Book of Art

I picked up The Daily Book of Art: 365 readings that teach, inspire & entertain in the gift shop of the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, D.C., and knew immediately I'd found a gem. 

This is a book for artists and non-artists, easy to read, easy to browse, beautifully designed and produced.

Each page includes a short essay on some aspect of art, one for every day of the year. Some pages highlight a famous artist or work, some focus on a bit of the history of art, some discuss its context, and others the philosophy of art. Every ten days, there's a fun art exercise to try.

The Daily Book of Art: 365 readings that teach, inspire & entertain excels not just because it's entertaining and interesting, but because it's so accessible. It takes a huge, multi-faceted subject and breaks it down into small pieces that are easy to grasp, quick to read, and thought-provoking.

I'm the type of person who picks up and puts down books. It can take me months to finish one, because I generally read in short intervals and I read slowly. I also love to browse non-fiction books and jump around in them. The design of this book is ideal for readers like me, who are interested in a subject but lack the time and/or discipline to fully immerse in it.

So expand your horizons! Learn more about art. Buy this book and leave it on your table or desk to read when you're taking a coffee break, or drop it in your bag to peruse when you're riding the train, stuck in traffic, or bored in a waiting room.

It's hardcover, wonderfully designed, and has a built in ribbon bookmark. Makes a lovely gift to a friend or to yourself. Get it at your local bookstore or museum or click the links above to order from Amazon.

Nontraditional Valentines...

...that work equally well for anniversaries, birthdays, or other happy occasions. This is just a sample of the handmade cards you'll find in my Shop.

Why give just a card when you can give a miniature work of art?

The morning after

Sometimes late at night, I'm unexpectedly overtaken by a tsunami of sad. Tears crest and break and roll down my face because somewhere deep beneath my surface, something shifted, something shook, something broke loose, and suddenly, there it is, The Big Sad. It cannot be stopped

I cannot outrun it. I try to seek higher ground but I fall and it overtakes me.

And you, long after you've gone to bed, awaken and search for me, eyes squinting against the light.

"Are you OK?"

And I don't know what to say, how to explain, but I know this: you are throwing me a lifeline, and I grab it. You pull me to bed.

The night is too dark but it is not dark enough to bury my sorrow, to hide my tears.

I stop trying to. I let them roll, hoping that the tears and the sadness will retreat, that my inner landscape will be scoured clean and settle and realign.

You pull my head to the center of your chest and I can hear your heart. I force myself to breathe deep, to listen, to focus on the wonder of heart and soul, the arms around me, the scent of your skin, the white light of snow sliding under the blinds.

It is late, so, so late. You have worked all week and I know how tired you are. You are not a night person, but you stay with me, mind and body, until I stop shaking, until the aftershocks are over, until I finally find peace. It takes a long time.

And in the morning, the cold gray sleety snowy morning, you rise first and build a fire and pull me out of bed to sit with you in front of it. So warm and comforting.

Another morning. Another day. Another January. Another year.

Grateful doesn't even begin to describe what I feel after a night like last night.