Tessering

“It was the morning after the night before….”  ~Ciaran Carson

Miraculously, I find myself landed in Ireland somehow, having traversed time and space, desert, mountains, oceans along the way.  Last week the Taos-based workshop was in full final-days mode. Marathon days featuring visits to the buffalo on sacred Taos Pueblo land, aha moments of drawings well crafted, friendships solidified over laughter and late night story-telling and wine.  And work.  So much gorgeous work.  For me this means the gifts of facilitation and teaching kinds of work, for my workshop participants, it was painting, drawing and finding ways to craft color into images to make them sing sketch of work.  It was rich, delicious work, beautiful work. We called it play.

I could wax poetically about it all but instead I’ll merely share some imagery from the journey to Taos to now.  And on further along into magical lands of more art and music.  Brew a cup of tea and have a look…

So much of the west burns this summer. I wonder and worry over the health and safety of my workshop friends. But alas, we were blessed with a brief dying down of winds and even a couple of rainy days later in the week. Much needed, much celebrated.

 

 

I’m greeted upon arrival by the welcome of dear ones in Albuquerque. So caring and nourishing and generous. And on up into the Sangre de Christo mountains to Taos. It is good to land. See old friends. Rest. The calm before the storm of busy-ness.
There is even some time to see new places and sketch them in my book before the demands of teaching ensue.
The Taos light stops me in my tracks at every turn.

Words of The Wise Ones help set the tone day to day as we work. We jot them into our traveling journals next to inspired drawings.

Often we are given the great honor of visiting our friend Harold’s gorgeous herd of semi-wild buffalo. They are spectacular beasts and we enjoy making their acquaintance early on two different mornings.
Capturing the textures and colors of this place allow us to sink into its intricacies.

Most demos by yours truly are done on larger formatted paper for visibility, but occasionally my poor forgotten book receives a bit of love in the form of color.

Always I leave a small token of love, thanks and admiration for the cultural force that was our dear Mabel Dodge Luhan. This time I have an empty pocket as I merely took a student to do a quick grave rubbing. So I opt to give her my blotting cloth from class, richly coated with paint.

 

Oh these ladies of the canyon. How we laugh! We are sisters in creation. Laughter is a form of creation.

Beauty at every turn.

Fechin’s workspace. I’m called to paint.
In my departing days of packing up and shifting gears, rains come. Ireland seems to be quietly whispering, “It’s time.”
Goodbyes are sad. Some feeling more permanent than others as the shifting sands of time craft change even at Mabel’s. But I have a soul home in Taos. I’ll return soon.
A brief dip into reality as its called, via the airport, and the returning of my small, dusty but trusty desert chariot. I board the planes as necessary and sleep my way across the Atlantic. Awakening to find myself here on the emerald isle.
Dear friends from here and home together make my arrival and transition an easy one. The village of Blackrock, Louth is charm itself. I’m suddenly in outerwear defense with a bit of rain, my skin and soul drinking in the freshness after a week or more in the high desert.

Teacher-self gives into artist-self in spite of post-workshop and transatlantic exhaustion. The colors here are so very different. Vivid in their own way.

We beachcomb by day, catching up by night, with errands thrown in to the mix as well. My Blackrock based friends are due for their own transatlantic trek back to the states and it is time for me to make my way to Listowel….

There is so much more to tell. About my day in Dublin at a museum, and yet another traversing this green country  to find myself here. About arriving Listowel and immediately attending a Pecha Kucha event and a local music session immediately following. But for now I hear an accordion and can smell peat on the air. I must step back into the present.

More soon….

 

 

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