I am realizing that my 30's seem to be full of ownership. I am learning to "own" myself--all those little things about me that I have suppressed or pushed away in order to fall into some ideal. Those ideals rarely come from within.

Perhaps it's really about coming full circle. It's definitely about finding myself--not the journey, or the search to finding myself (as in the years leading up to now), but actually finding me. Like, "Oh, HEY, there you are!! I've been looking for you!"

I've always fancied myself a country girl--even growing up in Portland (above is my name in the bricks at Pioneer Square), we lived in a secluded neighborhood with horses and a little orchard. There was no real sense of 'the city' unless we went downtown. This was supplemented by visiting my mom out in the country every other weekend, and for long stretches in the summer and on holidays. I moved in with my mom at the age of 14 (after getting into too much trouble hanging around downtown Portland), and lived the country life during most of high school, and I loved it. I loved the elements, the animals, the vast swaths of fields and rolling hills, the freedom.

And then I moved to Sydney, a city packed with over a million people (at the time--that was 14 years ago). I was overwhelmed and completely in love. The tall buildings and crush of so many cultures just swallowed me up and held me tight. There are still details of those buildings that I think of often.


I only stayed in Sydney one year (oh, I wish it had been longer...), then moved to Adelaide. While it was smaller, there is such a rich and vibrant artist community there that I didn't mind. The galleries were fantastic, and I was working with incredible contemporary artists. With occasional visits to Melbourne to visit friends, I was able to get in that truly big, dingy city vibe. There's something so brash, edgy, and unapologetic about Sydney and Melbourne. They really are incredible.

Moving back to Hood River after living abroad, and living in cities, was a rough transition. I struggled. I returned after 4 years to a changed town where all the people seemed different and strange. As much as I loved the beauty of the scenery, and access to the outdoors, I realized there was no room to grow there. I probably would have stuck it out if I hadn't gotten into OCAC, but I'm glad I did. OCAC brought me home to Portland.

So here I am. Finally admitting that I am a City Girl. I love the crush of cultures, the tiny details in all the old buildings. I love the bridges and freeways. Our library system is phenomenal. There is beauty everywhere. I can eat at any number of restaurants I want, go to museums and galleries, run out and buy jewelry supplies on a whim. I can visit Powells, my favorite bookstore that I practically grew up in. Everything is at my fingertips. And, Portland being Portland, I have plenty of access to mountains, rivers, and rolling hills.

Recently, we went to the Portland Art Museum, where I got to see some incredible work. Richard Mosse's The Enclave was out of this world. I want to go back and see it again, and really immerse myself in it.



Chris Antemann's Forbidden Fruit was a stunning display of detail, talent, and some serious naughtiness. Everyone had to wait for me while I gawked at all the details. "Look at all the tiny fruit! Look there's a tea set! Did you guys see??"



 As part of a Blue Sky Gallery retrospective at the museum, I got to see one of Nan Goldin's sets of photos. Goldin has been a true force of reckoning in the photography world, displaying life's real underbelly--raw and unyielding.  When I was a young art student, with a minor in photography, her work amazed me.


 Last but not least, I found out that the museum now has a display of Meso-American artifacts! There are nose ornaments, body adornment, and even a few Colima ceramics. It's an incredible collection.


So there you have it. I am a city girl. I love the crush of cultures, the diversity, the conversations, the coffee. Part of my heart will always live in the country--those moments when I get out there fill me with peace. It's where I recharge, find quietude, find my roots. But the city gives me opportunities, allows my ever-busy mind to be constantly engaged, and to explore a side of myself that simply doesn't fit in that country life (for now, at least).

I think a lot of this came up because we've been talking about moving to San Diego, and I got all excited because of the different cultures and architecture and colors. It made me realize how much I love it all. How much I've always loved it all.

It's HERE!!! The OCAC Thesis Class of 2014's Kickstarter has officially launched and we need your help to get to our goal!! Check it out and help us put on an amazing exhibition in May! Above is a little snapshot of one of my favorite rewards, The Cubist, which includes an ephemera packet from an artist's studio! They are like little artworks.

JUNCTURE is the culmination of years of hard work perfecting our skills as artists, as well as our ability to think critically and conceptually about our work. We look forward to seeing you at the show and are so grateful for your support. You can learn more about our show and our work by visiting our blog!

It's official.
The semester has ended.
I have bid goodbye to all my friends who will flee the NW in search of colder, brighter, more familiar places.
I cleaned.
I threw things away.
Then, I turned in my writing portfolio for the semester, and kicked back with Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed before work.

On my way to work, I drove a longer, winding road.
Words bubbled up inside of me.
I pulled over, and wrote my first poem in years.
(I'm talking like 10 years, people.)
It's short and sweet, and completely necessary.

And then, I dragged the kids that I nanny to the library and swiftly collected 11 books.
Some Mary Oliver.
Some Rilke.
Some Ann Patchett.
And a few others that have been recommended to me over the last year.
(Plus 2 that I picked up earlier this week.)
13 books. I hope I make it through them all.

There are changes, afoot, dears. I can feel them stirring within me.
There is more peace within my heart, more hope within my soul.
Poetry, meditation, yoga and hiking. Connecting with friends I have neglected.
Being there for people I care about, even if I think I can't.
Renewing interests in alternative 'sports' (aka, pool), and taking time out.
Difficult, but necessary, conversations.

Soon, I will update you all on the creations of this last semester.
It was full of beautiful, invigorating, uncomfortable, and infuriating growth.
It was incredible.

I hope your days are bright. Surely they will be after this one (how I love Winter Solstice).

I realized, not too long ago, that it has been a whole month since I posted a blog.
Holy smokes! I have been neglectful.
Or, busy.



School, work, and life in general have picked me up, and whisked me away into their oblivion. Luckily, I have a short break between projects and am able to play catch-up with all those little things that need my attention.

This semester has been incredible, actually. I am taking four classes, and am sitting in on another one. They are...Writing for Artists, Art of the Early Americas, Introduction to Woodworking, and Concept Seminar: Beauty. The one I'm sitting in on is a Hollowware class, where I'm practicing raising metal vessels in anticipation of the Teapot class I'll be taking next semester.

During the last few months, my boundaries have been stretched, and my concept of who I am and how I work has been evolving (which is what we should want, right?) I am embracing this evolution with open arms and love. I have been wanting it for a long time.


 In other news, there are many changes afoot. My husband recently was laid off from his job (with only 24 hours notice), and has traveled down to California to work for his brother for a while. After spending a continuous 7 years with someone, this is quite the adjustment, especially since he is in an area with no cell service. I am suddenly transported back to my days as a young single woman, living alone in Sydney, Australia. The independent part of me is rejoicing, but there is a certain emptiness that pervades everything.




Soon, we will be moving to a smaller apartment. My studio will be located in a friend's basement. I am hesitant to make the move, but I honestly believe it will be better for us. Downsizing is something I've wanted to do for a long time. Changes are afoot.