travelogue.

Last Friday down here in Mexico.

It feels really weird and fast to say a half year has come and gone and its time to go. I know its sooner than we expected, and that we have been wanting this for a month or so, but its still hard to believe its less than a week away. I can hardly fathom a cross-country move one more time but here we go.

Today is Tom’s last day at work, and they haven’t really had much for him to do all week long so the time has been moving even slower. but we really hope we can get his coworkers to come over tonight for one last hurrah before the busyness of this weekend. The movers start on Monday. I’ve been focusing on my paintings this week, trying to finish and seal them and paint the edges and scan them to have them dry and ready for packing and storage for a month or so. i sent out my newsletter last night to share the work and only like 7 people opened it. It sucks sometimes to move far away, it feels like people forget about you or stop caring, and when you are making things and want to share them with other people and they don’t care, it kind of feels like a waste. The internet is so impersonal and the gallery world is so expensive. I know I don’t make art for other people, but what is art without a viewer?

I’m on the 2 out of 3 semesters of herb school (and I got there quickly too, partially because I had so much free time here, partly because I did know a lot more of the material than I expected). I’m feeling a little frustrated with it because it feels a little lazy in they are repeating a ton of material in the beginner’s unit, and I expected a lot more. But I may feel differently when I get back to the cabin, where I will have access to plants and herbs and jars and time to actually make things- which is very hard here in Mexico, the herbs are limited and there aren't places to order bulk herb from. I think perhaps this course is meant to be a review and hands-on- I’m really hoping I can finish it this August at the cabin and move onto the advanced course. And perhaps attend a conference this fall.

After spending the majority of the year down here in Mexico, I feel like I have learned so much. Not just all of the schooling I have been through ( I am onto my 2/3 semesters already in herbal school, and halfway through my Spanish classes ) but there is something about living here in Mexico that has forced us to go deep, without distraction. We have had so much time to learn about ourselves, our limitations, our loves and hates. And, we have learned about accepting who we actually are, what our real strengths are. What I am getting at here, is that we are soon departing from Mexico- much sooner than we expected- and it isn't with sorrow that I say this, it is with excitement for the next adventure. You may have read in my husband’s blog at the beginning of this month that he has decided to leave his place of work and strike out on his own. I believe, wholeheartedly, that if we had decided to forgo this move to Mexico and the airport project, he probably would have never came to the conclusion that a smaller business was what he actually wanted. We had a very comfortable routine and life back in Chicago, and it was hard to not romanticize living abroad and working on something new. But living down here in Mexico, away from our friends/family/obligations, and immersed in a huge project and company that took up enormous amounts of time and brain space, he learned that (maybe) he is not the type of person who can expatriate for years, and jump headfirst into a 50 hour work week. I also learned that I desire a much simpler life. And so it is that we have decided to move back to the midwest at the end of July, and stay temporarily at our family’s cabin in the woods in Wisconsin and plot our next move- which will likely be a home in Milwaukee WI, and two small businesses. What I have been making The paintings I have been making down here are small vignettes of a culture I have grown to love and deeply respect. There is magic in and all around this city. A week ago I stood on the top of the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan, and thanked whatever Great Mystery at work in our lives for the time I have had here. I circled the summit three times in gratitude and thanksgiving. I have seen people work harder than I ever thought possible. I have learned the true meaning of caring for your neighbor; I have experienced the kindness of strangers who don’t speak a word of my language. I have been invited around a table by people from all over the world who have become warm friends. I have met awesome makers, artists, mediums, healers, writers. I hope that in the work you can smell the copal and taste the mango. I hope in the work you can tell I’ve really loved this time, and these places. There is so much I won't look at the same way again.

Im so pleased to announce that I am featured in this august’s copy of Loam magaine ! My ONGOING series field notes is being published alongside incredible artists, activists, writers and photographers. 

Loam:  How can we nurture ecological, social, and spiritual resilience in the heart of the climate crisis? Rich in resources for regeneration and resistance, Loam: Reawakening Resilience is an immersive exploration into honoring grief, cultivating community, and sparking change. Designed to last a lifetime, our hope is that this vibrant issue of Loam will be a beloved resource as you navigate what it means to foster resilience in your heart, in your community, and in our world during this transformative era of unraveling and rebuilding. 

preorder your copy as they sell out fast!

Field Notes is an ongoing series of drawings on paper, prints, and handmade objects that began in late 2016. It is a slow and meditative project, consisting of only around 10 finished pieces as of today. The project is a study of found ecosystems in the woods and fields mostly around the Midwest, although now that I live in Mexico this will likely change. I am especially fascinated by mycelium colonies and tree allies/foes, which either improve and regenerate their surrounding ecosystem, or transform it into something completely different, such as a burl. The drawings are from life but they read as abstract.

I was inspired to start this series for a few reasons. I was thinking and reading a lot about the ongoing political fight(s) against the natural landscape in the USA, which completely pains me as a gardener, backpacker, & folk herbalist who has a deep love for wild places. I decided to draw from what I found in the wood and field because it is such a joy to study abnormalities and organic patterns, to trace their forms and realize an entire world exists there that we walk past unnoticed every day. I felt like if more people stopped to look, more people might care. It’s as simple as that.

Robin Wall Kimmerer wrote in Braiding Sweetgrass, “Action on behalf of life transforms. Because the relationship between self and the world is reciprocal, it is not a question of first getting enlightened or saved and then acting. As we work to heal the earth, the earth heals us.”

This was the unexpected lesson. This is the part of the drawings that are not seen; I am no longer just observing, I can see now that I am not separate. The act of going to the woods to draw not only brought my attention to the otherwise unseen, it made me participate in the regeneration. I pick up old beer bottles and trash. I ask permission to pick berries and leave a gift in return. I reduced my plastic use. The work is medicinal in that it has changed me for the better, too.

on friday night I forced everyone to go out with me and try PULQUE, from the fermented sap of the maguey (agave) plant. It is traditional to central Mexico, where it has been produced for millennia. It has the color of milk, somewhat viscous consistency and a sour yeast-like taste. The drink’s history extends far back into the Mesoamerican period, when it was considered sacred, and its use was limited to certain classes of people.