It snowed in Portland!!
It's pretty rare that it sticks around anymore, so we went for a little adventure before the inevitable freezing rain came last night.

The other day, as I was frantically shuffling application papers around for an exhibition, I realized something.
I was reflecting on this notion of withheld words, and barriers, and it occurred to me that this idea has been a part of my work for years.

You know that story of unsent letters?
I'm writing those letters.
It's part of my thesis--I'm writing all those things I never got to say.
Each letter will be part of this mini-series I'm making.
Each letter is broken down into sentences, and each sentence into words (they're all blacked out).
These are some of the beginning translations of this experiment, with more to come....
In these examples, each strand represents a sentence, and each marker represents a word. I'm not truly excited about them but they've definitely given me a lot to think about as far as structure, color, and attachments.
In the end, all of the pieces will be individual with the ability to stack them, signifying the weight of all those words unsaid. I'm playing now between making them out of metal or continuing with fiber.

This morning was one of those mornings that I sincerely wished I was not allergic to coffee. The kind of morning where you glance outside, and then snuggle deeper down in the covers. I needed some sunshine...some liquid sunshine...anything.

A friend in Idaho said the other day how she was drowning because it was 40 degrees and pouring down rain. I had to chuckle to myself--it's like that so often here in the PNW. And then I pondered, how do we get through it? All those days of grey--some so dark that you can hardly tell it is daytime.

This morning, I went about my showering and getting dressed routine. I pampered myself with rose-scented oils. Heated up some yummy banana muffins and smothered them with butter. Made myself a creamy green tea latte. I wrote in my journal, and snuggled with Sammy (he was very excited about this).

And then....I went and played in the garden for an hour.

Sometimes, you just have to make yourself go outside, and dig around in the earth a while. Grey, or not.

Thesis year is an interesting beast. Not only is your mind being twisted in new ways, but you're constantly analyzing, playing, experimenting, and seemingly not making anything at all. Until you reach a certain point where things start gelling together.

I'm at that point, finally. A lot of people ask what my thesis work is about--it's about self-censorship. That moment we decide to hold back from saying something we need or want to say to someone, for any number of reasons. It could be fear, or it could be respect. While we often feel oppressed when this happens, the other aspect of it is that this moment is completely within our control--we are the ones that decide not to speak. It is self-inflicted.

I've been experimenting a lot with using rope, because of its various associations with safety as well as restriction, and have moved forward from using rope 'as rope', and onto creating my own rope out of various materials. The thesis work is constantly shifting and changing--sometimes it feels difficult to keep it in one place, but there are moments when you simply have to stop. You have to stop the evolution and settle on something in order to get a piece made.

Here's a little more of what I got up to last semester...

This time of year brings about the urge to cleanse, to rid oneself of negativity, to renew and start over.
I get swept up in it--most of us do.
But as I woke up this morning, to my chilly apartment and my warm husband...
As I stepped out of the shower to get ready to greet the day...
As I sipped soup for breakfast...
I realized, it is not about starting over.
It's about continuing the journey, the lessons, the growth.

The difference between where I was a year ago, and where I am today, is enormous. That difference has included many extremely difficult experiences and heartbreak. But it also included incredible growth and determination. I am grateful for both the pain and the happiness--it has pushed me and made me into a better person.

So cheers, my friends.
Here's to the Continuation of Good.
Happy New Year!