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It’s been a good long while since I last wrote. And I can tell you, I have spring on my breath.  So before the sap starts to rise outside and before the call sounds to press seeds into soil, I’ll come your way to visit again.

These newsletters have been intended to share my painting work and to help explain to you - and to myself - what they're about.  Not so much what they mean, because they’re abstracted and are therefore open to individual engagement, but rather how they’re derived.  From blank canvas, with no intention or reference, indeed, how do they “become”?

I’ve been thinking about resonance lately as a way of looking at my paintings.  And I’ve been thinking about where “home” resides for me.  And those two concepts together have helped in explaining the work to myself.
The first piece is that I pretty much live to be outside.  It almost doesn’t matter where outside is. If I’m in a natural setting, I’m home.  I enjoy scanning the landscape, feeling the weather and keeping all sensors as wide open as possible.  What makes it feel like home, I think, is the resonance of my outer and my inner landscapes - when the two feel similar, as if they vibrate on the same frequency.  It’s a body sense.  And when a painting makes me feel the same way, I know that it’s making my particular brand of “home” visible.

The second piece is my assumption that painting is a whole body experience and not broken up into cognitive thinking, intuition, physical movements - all these abilities work together and influence each other.
When I proceed, paint on panel, I tend to make random marks.  I could have my eyes closed.  I could be listening to the sound of charcoal on a wooden surface.  The paint smell can be prominent.  And anything can happen - which is usually called a mess. 

And here’s the third piece, which has to do with the mess.  It’s easy to see how an untidy mayhem could stop a paint brush in its tracks with the paints put away.  But it really is possible to trust that each moment is a platform for the exploration of the next moment, with all that new moment’s possibilities.  And another mess on top of another may, and often does, give a glimpse of something interesting. 

It’s not entirely hit or miss.  With whole body sensing decisions, I add and take away and add again, searching for more clarity as well as that sense of resonance each step of the way - am I getting closer, or did that last mark weaken the work?  Sometimes it comes together quickly, but often it’s a long ride. When/if the resonance happens, it’s a big smile!

In the above painting, which is just starting to make the corners of my move curve up, I’m affected by the movement of the dark shapes, as if something is coming apart, or maybe getting pulled back together.  And those yellow sections are pulling me out of myself into an unknown area that feels full of mystery and promise.  I just may be finding my way home, yet again.

So where does home lie for you?  Is it in a particular geography?  Or with certain people and their kind of conversation. Or is it certain music?  Or cooking or reading poetry?   Let me know, if you feel like it.

Before I go, I thought I’d share a cut from an old 2006 newsletter that used to get sent out every Wednesday, in season, about Full Belly Farm farm stand - “The Week’s Fare”.  Along with the listing of produce, eggs and flowers, I tried to include a story from the week’s work.  And some of those stories are fun and sure take me back!

I’ve included a new tab in the website labeled Full Belly Farm where you can read them. There’s one there now,  and I will offer others in that tab here and there as we go, thanks to the suggestion of a reader.

That’s it for now.  Thanks so much for joining me!
My best to each of you!

Tina