My graduate work focuses on the decomposition of soil organic matter.
All day, I measure invisible things: microbial exhalations, molecules of carbon and nitrogen. It feels simultaneously magical (that we have tools that can “see” these things, even if our eyes cannot) and futile (it can be hard to know the difference between invisible things and nothing).
Soils don’t get too much press — they are dark, and usually stable, and easy to take for granted. But the work that occurs in soils is what allows us all to do our work — breaking down the old to become new again.
These pilings have been decaying in salt water — slowly — since the late 1800′s. This is exactly the beauty I imagine in my work, on a larger, visible scale.
I’ve been looking at handlettering and type for a side project I’m embarking on and came across THIS site.
I love the playfulness of her work.
This first one pretty much sums up how I’m feeling this morning:
Y’know. Sometimes you’re told not to do something. That it won’t work. And you do it anyway. And it doesn’t work. But something kind of wonderful comes out of it anyway.
I took these pictures of stars with my point-and-shoot and without a tripod (OBVIOUSLY).
They are photographs of my breath, captured by a star.
We are camping in the desert this weekend. A place full of potential for adventure and experiments …
What cautions are you going to throw to the wind this weekend?
My childhood lives in these scenes : The mountains, the water, the green and tangled woods.
Do you ever think about how your external landscapes define your internal landscapes?
These early elements, the backdrop of my youth, made me comfortable with vast expanses, with feeling small in the world and with finding my own paths; skills I use daily in my life in Montana.
What are your compasses? And what are the stories behind them?
I am thirsty for growing things. These lush watercolors, a cup of coffee in a sunny window and tiny lettuces sprouting in my cold frame are filling the void this Monday morning.
For more, see HERE.
Another storm is buffeting town — howling wind and snow flurries – and I am reveling in the primary colors and summer activities pictured in these lovely, simple illustrations by Daniel Frost.
I. CAN’T. WAIT. FOR. SUMMER.
Well. I’m not really sure what season it is. We had a week of gorgeous early spring days and then today’s frigidity broke the 117 year low! It’s got me all confused.
What do you do to get through the volatility of spring?
There are a few new originals up in TART — celebrating the last of winter and the first of spring. Each image is 4×4 and framed with a natural wood 7×7 frame.
I love making these little collages — they capture my world here so satisfyingly and I love the thought of them finding good homes out in the world.
If you’re interested, contact TART directly for pricing and availability.
In January I thought this would be the year for staying put, but so far that has not been the case.
However, the roads have been clear and the views spectacular
Where are you headed next?