Roadside Whist

How It Ended Up

Perhaps one or two of you who follow In Distant Woods might specifically recall the post "My Desk" from April, in which I vented about my abundance of un-resolved projects and scattered ideas.  I wish I could describe just a few of my twenty five terribly ridiculous ideas, but I might return to my sketchbooks and actually create them one day.  So, did I pull everything together within those four days before the Opening Reception of the Houghton Senior Art Exhibtion?

Well, I made this.

My biology teacher kindly allowed me to borrow entomology cases, pins, and specimen jars, which I joyfully used.  The piece above was titled "Gary's House" (recall "Heated Situation" posted in April). 

An ode to the little linocut house who was lost in the carpet and never displayed for the show.

"Don't Mansion It"

Bird in a specimen jar entitled "Dwelling."

Above is a close-up of "Prints" before I added the toad and coupled it together with "In Dew Course" inside a vintage frame.  (etching, linocut, watercolor, coffee)

Detail of "Wrestless Nocean."  (coffee, charcoal, linocut)

Cheers to Seth for making beautiful cards to rest happily in this vintage dish, itself settled on a wonderfully-scratched desk borrowed from an unknown students's loft space.  My mother sanded the desk down a little and carried it over to the gallery on her head.  She also helped immensely with framing and various details, such as cleaning the dead insects and dust from the display cases while I carved my houses.  Josh also deserves my thanks for his helpful deeds.  If you scroll back to the earlier photo of me laughing with friends, he's the guy wearing the vest and staring into the camera like we're the crazy ones.    

I'm grateful for the valuable feedback of my professors and art student family, and to each and every person who took a moment to look at my work and respond to it (whether with words or in silence) with honesty.

Wrapped around the gallery wall.  

Unfortunately I don't have photos of the other artists' works, aside from this curious sculpture Josh carved from soapstone.

 I loved this evening with supportive family and friends, and despite my tiredness I couldn't stop smiling.  (I won't say much regarding the sheer exhaustion and quite nearly napping through the Opening Reception and indeed arriving late.  At least my iphone wasn't playing Sigor Rós out-loud on Pandora like it was the last time I tried to sneak up to a crowd after arriving late to... Well, never mind.  At any rate, I made it!)

A Corny Title

Fascinated by my uncle's cornfield, I made up my mind to explore the field before dinner.  I expected to find all sorts of hidden treasures and planned to get lost in its beauty.

The corn beyond the garden.

Leaving my mother and cousin behind to collect vegetables, I pressed on toward the field, convinced with each step closer that I was about to discover a perfect oasis.

 A few steps later, awkwardly squeezing my way between cornstalks, I found myself with little space, much less air, protuberances clutching and pressing on my neck no matter how I turned, and an overwhelming volume of rustling noise and the color green.  

 I'm still unsure what compelled me to walk deeper than the first row.  I had a earie sense of being cornered, stalked, and like nothing would leaf me alone, all at once.

 A while later, I finally escaped the corn barricade, profoundly grateful to feel the wind blowing and for the ability to run away from a flying insect in any direction I wished.  I wholeheartedly rejoiced the world contains colors other than corn-stalk green... and vegetables other than corn, for that matter.

Bloop.

What's It To You?

I met a toad jumping about in what I now know to have been a hig.  See definition (according to Weather Facts: British Weather Terms - Weather UK - weatheronline.co.uk) below.

hig (Also called ig)

In England, a sharp, short-lived storm of rain or wind. 

Obviously excited to introduce said toad acquaintance to others via In Distant Woods, I searched a bit for quotes or poetry I could incorporate into this post to support my natural opinion that rainstorms are lovely, happy occurrences.  However, I actually could find no lines describing rain as magical, lighthearted, or pleasant.  At best, a writer expressed it was nice to walk in, but otherwise rain was described as a thing of harshness, with lack of concern for what it falls down upon.  I'd forgotten to consider that rain is a like a beating to the earth.

“The rain to the wind said,

You push and I'll pelt.'

They so smote the garden bed

That the flowers actually knelt,

And lay lodged--though not dead.

I know how the flowers felt.” 

― Robert Frost

I wondered if everyone feels this way about cloudbursts?

cloud·burst

ˈkloudˌbərst/

noun

noun: cloudburst; plural noun: cloudbursts

1. a sudden, violent rainstorm.

So, innocent droplets or ominous sky?

Do you open your window to listen?  Do you step outside?  Do you slip on your raincoat?  

Does a downpour draw smiles from you, or make you weep?

Even the rain song from Bambi (granted, with a generous helping of thunder and lightning) was slightly more darkness than delight (or do you disagree?):

Bambi - Little April shower (English) - YouTube

  

Is a rainstorm dreamy?  Painful?  Miraculous?  Does rain fall like bullets, or sympathy, or tears of remorse?  Does it refresh, nourish, drench, or drown?  Does it make you ache, or sooth your pain?  Is it music, or noise, or silence?

Is your imagination stirred or stifled by rainy weather?  Does your mind become restless, or does rain clear your thoughts?  Does the rhythm lull you to sleep?  Is it comfort or fury or bliss to you? 

Does your mood sway with each rainfall, depending on your own condition, or what book you are reading, or what was left outside that you don't want wet?  Or, does your reaction depend on who is caught in the torrent with you?

Or is the rain that familiar yet unwelcome visitor, who comes when it chooses and talks nonsense as long and loud as it desires and bashes on your doors and windows... Pounding, pounding, pounding.

Does rainfall stifle your laughter?  Or is it a kiss, reminding you that you're loved?

Sorry for pelting you with so many questions. Whatever your thoughts, back to the toad's contagious gladness.  This bumpy fellow was leaping around in the rain like it was his birthday.  

Toss That Idea

Oops.  I took way too long time to make the salad.

For Grandpa on His Birthday

I let him see the crane in my sketchbook, but I didn't explain why I drew it, and why for him.  Days ago at the zoo, of all the animals, I found this creature the most intriguing.  He had a lovely dab of red on his head.  Walking slowly up and down the bank in silence, he seemed lost in thought.  I found him quite mysterious.  How did he appear both solemn and cheerful, both at once?  The other animals seemed unbearably sad, perfectly satisfied, bored, or apathetic.  But this crane seemed to have his head on straight.  Though wearied, he lived beautifully.  Calmly.  Hopefully.  I told someone standing next to me that he seemed like he would make a good friend.  Well, I don't know anything at all about the animal's personality, I guess.  But add in 'handsome, kind, and loving' and it all describes my Grandpa.  He's quite wonderful.