You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.
You must remember when she forgets.
You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.
She remembers when you forget.
You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.
You must learn her.
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
This semester I am taking a collage and mixed media class. Crazily it is scheduled at the exact same time as my figure drawing and painting class. Unfortunately, I do not attend Hogwarts and there are no time turner devices to be had. Instead, all of my collage and mixed media work must be done outside of class.
However, this week Michigan has been a freezing pit of ice and snow so our model couldn’t make it to drawing class yesterday as she was snowed in. This gave me the opportunity to get some good ole’ collage work started at school (seen in the top photo above). These raw canvas pieces will become part of a larger collage. I’m not really sure what the finished piece will look like yet, but that’s usually how my collage work goes.
Due to subzero temperatures classes were cancelled today. I was able to work on another collage (second photo) and it is finished! This one is a 5x7 in. piece of bristol paper that I ran through my sewing machine using various colors of thread. The top section is just some torn black kraft paper that I stitched on. I think it looks like a sooty cloud with rain or maybe a cross-section of soil and some roots. Either way, I like it.
Life has been simultaneously slowing down and speeding up at Hillview Farm. My winter semester has begun and on the days I don’t have class, I’m at work. Three weeks into this new schedule and my brains already feel like mush.
In an effort to combat the insanity that is life outside of the home, I’ve been simplifying, minimizing, and just generally clearing out the house. I’m pretty inspired by all of the work going on over at The Minimalists, and while I’m not certain I’d consider myself a minimalist, those lifestyle tendencies are certainly resonating with me right now.
As an artist and a maker, I find myself struggling with this desire to be able to make all of the things and when my creations aren’t up to par with my imaginings, I’m disappointed. I’m certain part of this disappointment is rooted in a desire to diversify the products Fawn Relic has to offer, but more and more I’m realizing that I don’t have to do and offer it all. I’m slowly learning to let myself off the hook in this department and it’s a relief.
The past several weeks in Michigan (and many other areas of the northern hemisphere) have been greeted by the “Arctic Blast” (which reminds me of the name of an Icee drink) and most of humanity in the affected region has hunkered down. It’s a time for warm blankets, steaming cups of that most delicious of beverages (tea, of course), and definitely some knitting. While the snowy conditions have made travel difficult and the gusty wind is doing nothing good for the complexion, I have to admit that I rather enjoy this winter storm. It’s forcing me to stop and just be. And that’s something I can get behind.