I miss the dust road and the stripped tree branch fences, the sagging chairs in the sun, the porch everyone talks about, the smell of turpentine and wind coming through the screen door of the painting studio. I miss endless conversations about everything and nothing, relationships that grew quickly over an endless salad bar, warn tables with themed wooden chairs, and scary stories about the lagoon.
I really loved being at Ox-Bow. People and paint and nature and things I won’t forget.
Some images I’m painting from. Architecture, man.
Going from Chicago to Grand Rapids so frequently is throwing me. I need Chicago to be home and I need to know this city better.
Be back in a few days, windy lady.
I wanted to be a pilot for a long time.
Yesterday I hung out with first and second graders.
I felt so loved and appreciated and included.
I felt the freedom of being under four feet tall and was envious of girls wearing tights, high-tops and khaki uniforms. Pink and navy is what’s up.
I wanted so much to know all their class cheers. You dynamite. Boom.
Tonight, I watched a film about elderly people. Some of them came to see their performances.
I loved and appreciated them. I wanted so much to include them in my life.
When I see old people, I see words and lights and sounds and the weight of experience in their skin and their eyes and I hear it in their voices. I laughed so much and cried thinking about the passing history and time and love lost in my grandparents.
Those kiddos will be old one day, rich and heavy with history.
I miss Colorado today. Living there, breathing tree-and-mountain air. Family trips. Elk in the road.
I miss the beach today. I miss the water and the sand and the seaweed remnants. I miss the sublime feelings of summer nights on the pier and bare feet on sandy pavement and ice cream and Butch’s burritos and half-wet towels. Beach hair is the best kind.
I swear I’ll open that art cottage on the water some day. Kids deserve to have these affinities.