Paying Attention

In the last five years, I have learned so much about various arts and crafts:  

I can now read the color wheel and know the difference between cool and warm colors.  I know that mixing cools and warms can make muddy brown. 

Transferring botanicals to the gel plate has wowed me-- the tendrils and veins of leaves. Feathers.  Grasses.  

Turning color photos into high contrast black and white photos has reminded me of the skills I learned in photography classes, editing to increase or decrease contrast, shadows, and exposure.  I will soon show you how this relates to gel printing images captured in a photograph. 

I now know how to fold signatures to make a book--and so many ways to bind books with threads and string and tapes.  

I love the way water colors move around on the wet page and bleed playfully into other colors.

The light on houses and trees and people in early morning and late afternoon (the golden hours) has inspired me to take pictures again.

This list could go on and on and on.  While the actual products made are few and far between, it's a pleasure to play as often as I can.

What I'm learning is of absolutely no value to anyone but myself.  

Occasionally I make something I deem worthy of a gift or hanging on my walls.  But for the most part, it's learning that enriches my days.  I am free to explore, to poke around, and to try new things, just for the joy of it.

It's a thrill to master anything. Occasionally, that happens. 

Nurturing creativity just makes life way more fun, more interesting.  It connects me with other people who do the same.  And it changes how I pay attention--and to what I pay attention.  

The poet Mary Oliver wrote:

Instructions for living a life: 

Pay attention,

Be astonished.

Tell about it. 

This morning, I was walking Luci around the block, when she suddenly pulled me in a different direction.  It was as if she were saying, "You're not the boss of me; we're going that way...." I followed her lead.

Since I was gathering leaves for mono printing, it turned out her route had different leaves than the ones I'd seen on the usual walk.  Maybe she knew what I was doing and wanted to point out some good leaves?

Up comes the scruffy little black dog who roams freely around the neighborhood.  They gave each other the canine version of Namaste, then Luci continued leashed and the black dog trotted away. 

I wished Luci could have that freedom.  I try to give her as much freedom as I can and watch her noticing smells and strangers. 

I've spent the morning pressing leaves and feathers into the gel plate.  Some of the results were muddy messes.  Some were almost astonishing.  I'm telling you about it.