I’ve been walking down this block several times a week for months now, but I only just noticed the bicycle. What else am I missing?

I made the bread twice more. Once with whole wheat, pecans, and cranberries.

Then with sesame seeds scattered on top.

Both filled my chest with a swelling sense of pride in their beauty; for one whole minute before they were demolished by a ravenous horde.

(Can you have a horde of 2? I looked it up and apparently not – you need at least 5 small families, but considering the level of bread consumption I stand by my use of the word.)

The cone necklace made me wonder what I could do with half-cones so I started this experiment.

Today I closed it so that it turned into a flower. The curves allow it to stretch so it can fit over your hand and onto your wrist. It’s a pretty dramatic bracelet. Or a small sculpture.

Now I’m wondering how the shape will turn out if I change the size of the waves, or the angles, or the number of rows…

Seems like everyone has made no knead bread before me. The original recipe was published in the New York Times a year ago, and then Cook’s Illustrated had to go one further, publishing an “improved” version in their latest magazine: lager and vinegar have been added to improve the flavor, and you knead the bread for 10 seconds. I tried it. Easy peasy. And look!

So very very good, and I made it!
Smugly off to make one with cranberries and pecans next…

Christmas to New Year to whoops it’s been a week without posting. I’ve been in that hibernating, quiet, winter space. Spent the first of the year tidying up, readying my studio for new work. Dreaming the next phase.

Slowed down to notice the glove abandoned in the street below.

And the cactus blooming up above.

It’s amazing how the turning of the year and the return of the light affects my mood. There I was, the Eeyore of Brooklyn feeling like nothing will ever change and how the hell did I get here. Two seconds more daylight and I am filled with hope, balancing my checkbook and making grand plans for the next five years. Magical, magical planetary influences.

So I give you what I think may be my all-time favorite picture of myself.

Summer in the mid-1970s; wild and free in the enormous garden of family friends, clad in Mexican cotton and having successfully fought off any and all hairbrushes for many a day. (Likely taken just moments before my mom took the shears to my head in an impromptu attempt to preserve her sanity and keep the child welfare folks from carting her off, accused of cruel and unusual hair styling.)

I love the spirit of the picture, and it’s my wish that 2008 bring more of her playful energy into my life. Teach me, oh little one.

I had to take a day of just staring at the wall after making all these in the space of a week. What was I thinking?! Can’t blame the sugar high before the fact.

I’m off to do some wrapping. With “help”.

Have a relaxed next few days!

We spent last Christmas at my place so M didn’t decorate much. I thought it was sad that he didn’t have a tree, and I kept seeing these ones on flickr, and then the moths snacked on my green sweater and next thing you know I was making this guy.

I sewed the rick rack on before giving it to M and he got to “decorate” the tree, pinning on the buttons and pom-poms which I then glued in place.

For the base I used a scrap from an old screen-print mandala. I inserted cardboard to make the base flatter and used a wooden knob that was kicking around the studio for the tree trunk.

This year the crazy holiday crafter struck again when I decided to make an advent calendar on November 30th. Pictures soon.

Thanks to M for these photos.

Driving home to Brooklyn we came through Times Square. Culture shock on a grand scale.

For months now I’ve been thinking of New York as a demon lover – the one who doesn’t treat you well, who throws you just enough crumbs to keep you stumbling along in the relationship, who endlessly promises and rarely delivers. The one you stay with too long, can’t find a way to leave.

I’ve had a growing suspicion that my relationship with this city may be over. I no longer feel a deep sense of relief when the pilot announces the approach to La Guardia. I crave a garden and limited entertainment options. I’m even nostalgic for driving, for goodness sakes.

Our trip upriver was not merely a vacation, it was as a scientific experiment exploring the city-leaving premise. I didn’t expect a clear answer but within a day I knew. I felt the wide open sense that I could leave New York. Walk away. Like the moment when you look at your husband/lover/partner, the person you see morning and night, who is central to all your days and decisions, and realize that one day, possibly soon, this entire life you’ve constructed together will be gone. This person will be friend or memory. Your paths will part and start new.

But before anything changes there is today. And tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow. M and I just shacked up; his job isn’t as portable as mine; we may never want to revisit the trauma of moving which is reason enough to stay put. It isn’t clear where we would move to, and it isn’t enough to want to go.

Who knows where this will lead.

We’ve been home for five days and still I’m posting pictures of our little vacation. Clearly I was in dire need of a break.

I took pictures of our room at the Country Squire. As I was looking at them, deciding which to post, I noticed the connections between some of the details:

Speaking of details – we visited Olana, Frederic Church’s house overlooking the Hudson.

The building is covered in ornament, inside and out. It reminded me of the work of Horta and Charles Rennie Macintosh; complete design with all the elements considered in unison. Makes me want to create a home that is in itself a work of art.

Unfortunately the guide was most specific in her veto of indoor photography and, as per usual with these things, none of the postcards or books in the gift shop showed enough of the detailed stenciling and carving that I wanted to run home and emulate. A six-month stenciling obsession nipped in the bud.

This’ll be my last “I’m in love with Hudson” post. I think. I’ll try.
“Be here now. Be here now…”