a human compulsion to create order
we have a large dining room table. it seats eight comfortably. but there are only three of us at home now. so, half of the table is usually covered with leftover nature and recent bits of STILL blog compositions. over the years, i have learned that if i set the table to for dinner, and kind of scooch an interesting collection of nature bits close to the plates. then someone will inevitably start sorting and stacking. that was my plan yesterday when i “carelessly” left a pile of driftwood within easy reach of dinner. by the time i’d finished the dishes, this had happened.
steal like an artist
one of my foundational pieces of advice, which really lies at the origin of STILL blog, is “do good work and put it where people can see it.” that quotation is from austin kleon, who also wrote a book called “steal like an artist.” his point is that there is nothing new, and that everything is more or less borrowed from something else, so go out there and find influences and copy them and you can’t help but make them your own. i don’t know the name of the artist i stole this from (theirs was in metal), but i am admitting without any hesitation that this is a concept i “stole like an artist.” thank you to whomever i stole this from. and to whomever they stole that from. and to whomever that person stole their image from. etc. etc. etc.
winter stems with circles of birch bark
what it could be
- lost archipelago recently found in the in the south pacific with new species of palm.
- dr seuss’s original truffula trees
- golf divets from augusta national found by creatively inclined groundskeeper
- bigfoot’s bonsai experiment
- cordyceps fungi parasitizing an abstract art installment
- the saddest little garden
- the alien invasion at last
- a genetically modified hyper-carbon-consuming flower that will soon alter the trajectory of global warming and save the world.
- blobs of moss with winter wildflowers stuck in them
- (the last one is my least favorite)
ok fine: blobs of moss with winter wildflowers stuck in them. sigh.
as a believer in evolution, i have to believe these patterns evolved of themselves, over thousands of generations, and served a purpose that furthered the genetic prospects of the birds that sported them. i can’t decide whether that is a position that weakens the claims of evolution, or a position that strengthens the claims that art and beauty are fundamental.
argus pheasant feathers
the real deal?
we’ve had a few false starts to winter this year. but now the lakes are frozen over, and the snow started falling this afternoon and is supposed to keep up all night. this one feels like the real deal. if so, that means at least four months until my environment wakes up again and color returns. fortunately i stashed quite a bit of fall and autumn away in my studio and they’ll be waiting there, ready to serve, on those occasional winter mornings when none of us can handle another subtle composition of muted grays. here we go. you with me?
fresh snow on oak leaves