repeat

repeat

one of the unstated principles of STILL blog is that if you do something over and over again, even if it’s sort of the same thing, the repetition becomes its own kind of art. in this case, i sort of liked my late summer crispy leaf pattern assemblage, but when i doubled it i liked it even more, and when i doubled it again and doubled it yet again, i liked it a lot more. it suddenly looked like filligree work, or like some kind of north african tile pattern. i’d like to think that seven years of still blog has created something similar. an accumulation that becomes its own kind of art.

assemblage of dried green leaves (repeated)

  • marty rockett says:

    This is gorgeous! go to spoonflower and make a fabric out of it so I can buy some. you are always inspiring to me and I thank you. I check still first thing in the morning and the pictures and your witty comments start my day in a very good way! Thank You!

    reply
  • Ginny says:

    Ditto what Marty says!

    reply
  • Susan says:

    And ditto again!

    reply

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kids

kids

these seeds will be kids someday. looking a lot like their mother and father. i wonder if adolescent trees have hormone surges and don’t do the dishes. i wonder if they need their parents one minute and despise them the next. i wonder if they give one word answers to open ended questions. oops, gotta go. my teenager wants to know where his soccer jersey is.

amur maple seeds in september

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birth

birth

this seed head was encased in the stem of this grass until i touched it and suddenly the grass split and gave birth to a new baby seedhead. i’m guessing if the grass were sentient, that splitting would have been painful. i currently have a 14 year old boy who doesn’t talk to me quite as often as I would like, as hormones have begun flooding his system. when he is being especially taciturn, i like to find a way to embarrass him as deeply as possible to get him to talk, and one way to do this is to remind him out loud that i once carried him in my uterus for nine months and then he came out of my vagina. it’s a can’t miss line. i recommend it.

prairie grass seed heads just opening

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can’t stop. won’t stop.

can’t stop. won’t stop.

i’m in a rut. a color organizing rut. it’s just so damn satisfying. my studio is overflowing with bits and pieces at the moment. my desk top is full, the floors are full. matter of fact, every horizontal surface if full. i am running out of space to work. it’s time to make a big sweep and send it all back out into the woods where i found it. but, every time i start, i get distracted by the colors. i am choosing to take it as a sign to follow my creative instincts. rather than the more obvious sign that i am simply procrastinating. sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.

copper colored bits of found nature

  • CANDICE BORRETT says:

    Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

    reply

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hold on…it’s too early for holiday photos

hold on…it’s too early for holiday photos

i swear i am not jumping the gun on holiday photos. i am big believer in one season at a time. in it’s time. but both these twigs, locust and sumac, have been featured on STIL in the last week or two, and were then left neglected in the corner of my studio waiting to be returned to the woods. today they caught my eye–both having dried in similar yet strikingly different ways. both curling in on themselves–but one along the longitudinal and the other along the lateral. it makes me wonder why? it may be as simple as the relative stiffness or flexibility of the midrib. or maybe it has something to do with the structure of the veins? or maybe it depends on the differences between surface tensions in the upper and lower surfaces of the leaves? see? it makes one wonder.

dried locust leaves and sumac leaves

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