On Cracking Open


The last few weeks, I feel a bit like I’m cracking open. As if some quiet part of me has been gestating, growing in the tiny spaces I have allowed, and is buzzing, ready to burst out. I have so many ideas and projects brewing, I can hardly keep them straight. I want to decoupage clothespins with gorgeous paper, and collage a giant canvas with a scene that’s been stuck on the edge of my subconscious for weeks, and make fresh strawberry shortcake and wallpaper the inside of our old trunk and put some film in my mom’s old Nikon and grow basil in our front garden and sew my own throw pillows in sunset colors and hop on my bike with my camera slung in the basket and ride ride ride.

I find that mostly I’m buzzing to create – something from nothing, new from old – teasing out the wild and the beautiful. Every corner I turn seems to harbor a new spark, seems to whisper get your hands dirty, it’s time now.