Made by Wooni

Burnt to a crisp

It is amazing how when you reach a low point you are able to have some clarity and see where you wanted to go. Well, I was laying on the seabed and right there in front of me I found a box full of old memories. It was a box full of words, papers, pens, books, paint brushes, pencils, erasers. It was a box full of my adolescent dreams of being a writer and artist. I am back on my original path. I still seem to have one firm foot on the soft seabed. And every now and then my foot seems to sink a bit deeper. However, my other foot is lifted in the air, pointing to the surface as a promise to return to the fresh sea air that will once again regenerate my soul. 

So I have, as usual, returned to the empty page and filled it with scratches and scribbles and doodles. 

Some silly

Some hopeful

Some for the moment.

It is a wonder how much it helps to draw and paint, especially with watercolors. 

Some doodles, maybe a potential

Some doodles, maybe a potential theme or story. The human condition, and the materialization of a thought. What if it became a being? What if it were lonely a looked for a friend? How would it find?

Landlust

Everytime I go to the grocery store I wander the magazine Isle wanting to find something exciting, and I finally found it. It is a magazine call Landlust. It is all about organic beauty really, gardening, harvesting, crops, wool, artisans, craftsmanship...The photography is breathtaking and has made me appreciate the small little village. I am even wanting to have a green thumb. I have always had the dream of having a farm where I can grow my own crops, milk my own cows, and grow my own wine. I can imagine my 40 year old self staring out the window of my art studio, breathing in the fresh (and also smelly) air that my farm land sends my way. I can imagine my self waking up at dawn, recharging my soul with the first rays of the morning Sun, greeting the animals, who I have all probably named (I would have sheep, chickens, and cows... none of which I would kill, only take from them what they give to me willingly with life) according to their personality.

Then after a day of sun, dirt, sweet, art, and joy I sit down at my outside table with a pitcher of homemade wine, and eat a delicious meal with my family. We listen to the nocturnal creatures as they sing us a lullaby, and reach out to the sweeping winds of life with out laughter and voice.....I love to dream

What is your dream?

The wind sweeps through our

The wind sweeps through our little village and I have butterflies on my mind. Also the idea that the commonalities of life and how differences are truly not that different once you stand back and look at them...I know I am just babbling nonsensical things..but during one of those moments of clarity they do make perfect sense. I love those moments when everything falls into place. Everything makes sense, and it even seems funny how before they did not, and just as that moment came all of a sudden it leaves you and you forget entirely what was so clear to you.

Either way, The picture above is of my newest creation. A butterfly, a tribute to my salvation. I imagine her to be magical. Her story is still unravelling in my mind with every stitch that I make. However, I have come up with a story for my duvets. It is about the sun and the moon, and their love story. 

More details later....happy spring :)