Purple Toes

I intern at a studio in Evanston, where I work with all populations of people. From adults to 2 year olds, I have covered the gamut. One of my favorite groups is with 2-4 year olds and their moms. It is such an interesting world to peer into, moms and their children. One child loves paint. But not with a paintbrush. He loves to paint with his feet. Any opportunity he gets, his feet are on a plate full of paint and he walks around, smiling so big no one can stop him, even his mom. And that's the purpose of the studio. To be free to walk around with paint squishing between your toes, and to enjoy squeezing as much glue out of the bottle as you want. 

I remembered this image as I was writing my thesis. Here is a sneak peek: 

At the art studio I am currently interning at, I often hear people say, “I love being in this space, can I stay here all day?” The studio’s walls are covered in the indulgence of paint that has moved off of paper into the space permanently. Drips of electric pink, dark brown, gold, and green adorn the molding that wraps around the studio. The wood floors have splatters of paint and footprints from children who once immersed their toes in the gush of paint. This space, inhibited by so many different people inspires and invites others to join in on the freedom and yet the boundaries contained in this storefront studio space. We cannot neglect the influence that other people have on our creative spirit. 

grace and peace. 

Vicarious Space

I love my brother's photography. I love living vicariously through his eyes. I love wondering what is different about his reaction to the photos as opposed to what I feel when I look at them. I imagine it is like that with every photograph and their viewer.

I want an art studio that has these beautiful doors.

The image holds a powerful place. One that is in between my brother and I. It is a bridge. Or a sphere, that connects us.

OKC: Times are a changin'

Wayne Coyne's

new home

in

Oklahoma City

Searching For Cheap Treasures

I love this watch from JCrew... but the price is a bit excessive.


Timex for Jcrew: $150

So I found this look-a-like at Target.

Timex for Target: $29.
And I decided, I could get a strap from JCrew and meet the look for $120 less than buying the entire watch at JCrew.


Straps from Jcrew: 2 for $30.

A Good Story

For class this week, we had to make a Life Book. It was decently daunting since we also had to include in it our futures. My first memories were very specific, for example, reciting Psalms 100 at church in front of hundreds when I was 5, and because I got such a great response, I also recited it at our garage sale. Or at preschool, everyday when I walked into The Little Red Playhouse the teacher would ask me, "Did you have french fries for lunch today? Did you bring me back any??" She always wanted to know about french fries...

And then, as I got older, the memories were still specific, but much more meaningful, and often tragic. They were embarrassing moments, like when I kissed a boy for the first time and he had just eaten Nacho Cheese Doritos, I was so ashamed and grossed out

I broke up with him the next day. And when we thought my Mom's brain tumor was back, I remember my family telling us at our grandmother's house, we saw the x-rays. I was tough, I didn't cry, I looked at the scans and declared that nothing was there. And then I started getting in trouble at school... shooting spit wads at kids.

In high school and college I remember feelings more than specifics. I remember accomplishments and letdowns. And I remember friends, and how I felt when I was with them. I know how I felt boarding the plane to move to Chicago, and the moment that Julie got there and we moved her in, and recently the sadness of her leaving Chicago.

As I began to write my future, I added in my hopes and dreams. I get married. I have a successful career. I have cute hilarious children. I have perfection. But it was almost boring. I look back and the hard moments in my life created who I am today. They turned into some of my biggest blessings. But how could I write tragedy into my future? You can't.

Life is full of curves. But if I were writing my own story, I wouldn't write any curves. It would be a straight line, or better yet with an uphill slant. But I'm not writing my own story. Someone much greater is writing that story for me. Someone who knows much

better than I do how life should go.

For example: Never would I have written this picture into my own story. But what a wonderful thing that Someone else wrote it in for me.

Evolution of Man Circa 2010.

grace and peace.