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If you have been following me on any social media platform, or here, you will have caught wind that 4 months ago, one of my dearest friends committed suicide. Sonya Scott was an incredible artist and designer, and I was so lucky to have her as a good friend. We were working on a collaboration for Co:Operation Garnish, an upcoming exhibition. We had been talking about salt and all the possibilities and significance of salt, and how we could use it for this project. I have since been referring to it as "The Salt Project."

When Sonya passed away, I decided to keep the collaboration going. It took her husband about a month to find the journal she and I had been sharing, and in the meantime, I got to writing down everything I could remember that we had spoken of. Once the journal was found, her words gave me a lot more focus and direction.

I am now making two neckpieces--one is a locket which doubles as a brooch and pendant, and the other is a statement necklace meant to signify the value of salt as a trade in ancient Roman times. So now, I am faced with the prospect of naming these two pieces.

Naming a piece is always an interesting process. I tend to start out with an intention, or idea, and let it mull around in my head for a while. For instance, for the locket, there is a quote of Sonya's I have in the journal. I may use the entire quote for the title. Or, I may shorten it.

For the statement necklace, ideas such as "What Value We Bestow" are floating around. Sometimes I tackle the dictionary and thesaurus for ideas--even just changing one word can make the difference I was looking for. In a name, there should be enough intrigue to keep people guessing a bit. I am a big fan of innuendo and imagination. I am rarely satisfied with "Untitled," although sometimes that is the best title there is.

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.

Inspiration comes from many corners. I find music to be essential in how I go about my days. I generally have a bit of a "playlist" going according to how I feel or am wanting to feel--in the car, in the studio, at the gym. If I go too long without listening to music, I feel this strange withdrawal...although, silence is often hard to come by in the city and welcomed.

This one. This has so much emotion in it, and reminds me of a beautiful being I once knew. It reminds me of love, life, and adventure.

Happy New Year!!
What adventures are in store for you in this new year? What resolutions have you made, if any?
 
I've never really been one to believe in New Year's Resolutions. I figure any day is a good day for resolutions. But lately, I have definitely been feeling the turning of the years. It started weeks ago, with an onset of anxiety that I hadn't experienced before.  It was all from tiny little aspects of my life that I wouldn't normally think of as creating anxiety.

Being the pro-active person that I am, I started breathing deeper, cutting back on caffeine, eliminating stress factors in my life. Almost subconsciously, I began making decisions. To bring more beauty into my life. To stop "making do" with less. To reach within myself, grasp those aspects of myself that had been neglected, dust them off, and hug them tight.

Is this what it's like to be in your 30's? To be more in tune with things...more intentional? (I like it.)

I have become more accepting of myself. More embracing. More confident in the things that I love and what has brought me here.

Did you know that I love the color pink?? I LOVE PINK.

I love Fashion. Issey Miyake, Alexander McQueen, Tom Ford, Vera Wang, and Vivienne Westwood are some of my favorites.

I love bright colors--even though my wardrobe may be varying shades of greys and blacks, I love bright colors.

I love African adornment, Australian Aboriginal art, and Native American designs.

As much as I miss the open sky of the country, I love living in the city (more on that soon).

All of these things are influencing my work, my life, my relationships.

What do you love? What has brought you here? What is inside you that has been neglected, hidden away? What is changing for you?

Here's to a New Year--may 2015 bring you more confidence, adventure, love, laughter, and brightness!

The other morning, after waking up from having a nightmare inside of a nightmare, I realized a something. I have been spending too much time pushing in the wrong directions. Some of it is business related, some of it is personal, but what it comes down to is the need to pull back.

The internet is a strange place--it is so easy to believe that in order to be known in "the world" you have to spend all this time putting yourself out there on the internet. I am trying to find a balance. And in order to do so, I need to focus.

I need to be making, exploring, living. Not in this virtual world, but outside. I have to pull back in order to push forward (like a slingshot). I have to let things go, focus on others, and move forward. Mostly, I need to simply live in the real world for a while.

I hope you are living, making, and exploring as well, because there is a whole wide world out there just waiting for you. Go get it.

...they add up. The to-do lists, the obligations, the chores--they can quickly overwhelm you, if you let them. Sometimes, you just have to step back, and take a moment.

Take time to breathe.
Most things can wait.

Take time for friends--whether in a phone call, a text, a short visit, or one that lasts all day.

Many of the lessons I carry from my father are ones I learned after his passing. Or ones I didn't even know that I had learned until he was gone. Yesterday, I spent the day with one of my oldest friends, Kari. As she and I made our way around town eating lunch and visiting Powell's, followed by walking through a very windy Forest Park, I reflected.

One of my father's friends said at his memorial service (almost 10 years ago) that one of the best qualities my dad had was making time for people. He made time, and he made you feel like that time was the most important thing for him. He was present.

Yesterday felt a lot like a similar Thursday a couple months ago, where another friend and I wandered Portland, running errands, eating, laughing, and processing our emotional ups and downs. Both days spent with friends visiting from out of town. Both days completely set aside for those ladies. I do that. I clear my time for the people I love.

I invest in those who invest in me.
I take time.

And more and more, I realize how important it is, because you never know when that will be the last time you see that person.

Let's all be a little more present.