SOLD
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
indigo jones studio's everything all the time bag
It's four sides of one Indigo Jones Studio Everything All the Time bag. Handcrafted and easily cleaned with a gentle soap and soft cloth, these handbags are each one of a kind and will sit up straight and get noticed. I may keep this one for myself. It's my new favorite....at least until I spot some new Asian calendar, black and white graphic or vintage owl papers. The possibilites, oh how I love considering the possibilites. Monday, September 8, 2008
what could be better?
Another beautiful Michigan weekend as the rain held out for our last trip north for the summer. We just had to squeeze the last drops of summer out and relish in it. I know what's coming. Northern Michigan at the end of August and the first few weeks of September may be as close to heaven as I want to come without dying. The lake is the warmest it will be all summer and the 4:00 sunlight is warm and mellow and delicious. I like to think that the place where my friends and family are gathered is where my heart is always, but truly a small sliver of my heart and soul is firmly rooted in Northern Michigan. It was especially amazing to be there with our sons and my folks. It was less than two years ago that I wondered if I would have my dad at all. November 7 th will mark the second anniversary of the day that both of my parents were hit head on in a horrific car accident. So, watching my parents with my boys on my favorite beach on a warm afternooon in September of 2008, yep I'm full of thanksgiving. We walked the beach, collected Petoskey stones and beach glass, ate well , browsed art galleries, watched the sunset and sat in on the Traverse City Orchestra rehearsal.
Currently, several of my pieces are on display and available at Art and Soul on Front Street in Traverse City and also at Rustic Roots in downtown Leland"Fishtown", both in Michigan.
Currently, several of my pieces are on display and available at Art and Soul on Front Street in Traverse City and also at Rustic Roots in downtown Leland"Fishtown", both in Michigan.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Honey I Get It, I Really Do (or Artist's Statement as written by my husband)
There's the first life you live -
the one where you help
your little boy clean himself
after with limited success
he's used his big-boy potty seat
and then you wipe up the
cat puke in the foyer
you swiffered the night before
after Letterman.
It's the life where
piles of laundry rule your space
but you've grown to ignore
them as a strong-hold defense
against insanity.
Make the beds, wash the dishes,
vacuum the floors, you're too
busy to make lists and by evening
you're waiting for your husband
so you can start dinner.
And when, finally, he arrives he's late
and smells of his lunch he ate
peacefully in a nice restaurant
with his colleagues -
all of whom are over the age of four.
He comes in through the front door,
unscrews the top of his head, places his brain
on the table in the hall and asks,
"How was your day?"
Your second life
is the one where you imagine yourself
among your artists acquaintances
on a sunny Thursday afternoon
in a University town,
the streets have been blocked off,
you're in a white tented-booth
with your name on the outside,
listed above the town you're from,
your artist booth number.
You sip vendor lemonade as
your shoulders pink over the day
and you talk with attractive,
culturally-sensitive people who
upon approaching your work
ask you many interesting questions -
none of which have to do with laundry,
the best swiffer or pet vomit.
You love your children.
You love your husband.
But at least once a day, every day,
the possibility of your second life
will see you through
the reality of your first.
- Darren King
the one where you help
your little boy clean himself
after with limited success
he's used his big-boy potty seat
and then you wipe up the
cat puke in the foyer
you swiffered the night before
after Letterman.
It's the life where
piles of laundry rule your space
but you've grown to ignore
them as a strong-hold defense
against insanity.
Make the beds, wash the dishes,
vacuum the floors, you're too
busy to make lists and by evening
you're waiting for your husband
so you can start dinner.
And when, finally, he arrives he's late
and smells of his lunch he ate
peacefully in a nice restaurant
with his colleagues -
all of whom are over the age of four.
He comes in through the front door,
unscrews the top of his head, places his brain
on the table in the hall and asks,
"How was your day?"
Your second life
is the one where you imagine yourself
among your artists acquaintances
on a sunny Thursday afternoon
in a University town,
the streets have been blocked off,
you're in a white tented-booth
with your name on the outside,
listed above the town you're from,
your artist booth number.
You sip vendor lemonade as
your shoulders pink over the day
and you talk with attractive,
culturally-sensitive people who
upon approaching your work
ask you many interesting questions -
none of which have to do with laundry,
the best swiffer or pet vomit.
You love your children.
You love your husband.
But at least once a day, every day,
the possibility of your second life
will see you through
the reality of your first.
- Darren King
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