Bloom Baby, Bloom

Mi madre me contó que yo lloré en su vientre. A ella le dijeron: tendrá suerte. Alguien me habló todos los días de mi vida al oído, despacio, lentamente. Me dijo: ¡vive, vive, vive! Era la muerte.

Martin Gregus captured a once in a lifetime moment of a Polar Bear sleeping on a bed of fireweed.

David Hettinger, 1946-

"Sometimes you're doing really well, then, after three or four years, everything inexplicably crashes like a house of cards and you have to rebuild it. It's not like you get to a point where you're all right for the rest of your life."

I did a small series of ineffable husbands watercolors to go on the cover of holiday cards I sent this year. I *think* they've finally all managed to get to their recipient now, so I can share them here <3

It had been a good while since I had time to play with watercolors, so for most of these I watched DrawwithShiba's timelapses on youtube. if you're wanting to try out watercolors, I highly recommend looking him up!

lush illusions

On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.

And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.

Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?