Summer art…

Summer art…

Every summer, I want to be an artist. As a child, I remember gathering my coloring books and arranging my crayons on a beach towel under the willow tree. The warm breeze rattled the long branches as I lay on my back looking through the branches to the blue breaking through. As a teen, I brought a sketchbook to the beach and imagined myself capturing the weight of the sun, the sparkle of the water, the soft roll of the dunes. As a young mom, I longed to capture the folds of baby knees, the curve of a chin, and the movement of children climbing, exploring, and discovering the world in our backyard. Continue reading “Summer art…”

Pottery class…

Pottery class…

I’ve been dreaming about getting my hands in clay for years. I imagined the feel of the pliant clay running through my fingers as I shaped the soft block into a useful container of my choosing. In my daydreams, I envisioned hours spent calm and centered before the wheel. I was inspired to register for a class at my local art center last fall. The first night, I walked into the unfamiliar space eyeing the wheels set up in two rows facing a center shelf. We gathered around the glazing table and quickly received the basic instruction. We needed clay, which came in 25-pound bags and we needed tools, a small sponge, wire cutter, and various wooden and metal hand tools. The smell of clay filled the space. Continue reading “Pottery class…”

April road trip…

April road trip…

April in New England can be fickle. About ten days ago, I slid to the edge of the road as I took a turn on ice covered roads on my way to work. Yesterday, I spent the day with the windows down and the sunroof open as I drove toward Western Mass in the golden glow of the April sun. Trees are preparing to burst, but for now, the green canopy of summer is still weeks away. Through fields and quaint towns, I wandered a hundred miles on winding roads. Stone walls, white steeples, and green town commons welcomed me as I drove through town after town. Continue reading “April road trip…”

Paint night…

Paint night…

So, the first of my 50 before 50 list is in the books. Friends gathered at the local paint shop and found ourselves right back in 4th-grade art class, only this time with wine. There were ten of us, on a very cold January night. Surrounded by vivid color, we headed toward the blank canvas. It felt like I remember art class feeling, awkward. My brain knew what it should look like, but my hand did not know how to produce the desired effect. Somewhat like writing with my left hand. Continue reading “Paint night…”