Sunday mornings... Sunday mornings have the potential to have a flavor all of their own. In recent years, I've moved through points where Sundays, moreso than any day of the week, were difficult days. But this morning, as I sorted through a bundle of thoughts that were bouncing around, I was going to leave a status at Facebook and realized that the flavor of Sunday morning can't always be contained in a single 240-character update. You can't always encapsulate the many layers and textures of a Sunday morning in just a few words.
It's barely 8AM, so the day is not yet underway. The shape and resonance the day will take on is still unformed, unspoken, unbroken. There is the softness of morning, undertones of possibility and creative energy. My thoughts this morning were simple enough... they started with an awareness that the Renegade Craft Fair in SF is today. I had hoped to work it out for yesterday. (In the end, we saw Mr. Popper's Penguins.) I've sort of reconciled myself to the fact that I can't get there, but I spent time thinking through whether or not I might get there. That led me (again) to the show's website and then to their blog and then to a post on "not to miss" things in SF.
I scanned that list because similar lists (scaled down a bit) have been in my head lately--fueled by a bit of caffeine, a thread of unexpected friendship, and the growing sense that we have to make and take time. In thinking of simple lists, the concept of bucket lists hovers around the periphery (not something I've done, not a movie I've seen). And so I poked around the "not to miss" blog post. I opened a "craft spots in SF" map, and I laughed just a bit to see on that map that things marked as "part" of the base map, things like city parks, for instance, included Tartine, a well-known bakery here--and the first in a series of recent explorations.
Shelving the Renegade Craft Fair until I can see how the hours of mid-day pan out, I skimmed some Facebook posts by Cathy Johnson and realized, with a jolt, that I had put aside her new book
(a wonderful birthday thought) to savor, and in the spiral of days, I'd never gotten it back out. As I got up and refilled my coffee (briefly contemplating switching over to tea for the day since the maker had already clicked off), I poked around in first an overflowing bin, then a precarious stack on a stool, then under a pile of fabric in a chair, and then, bending down to look at the seats of the chairs surrounding the table, I spotted Cathy's book in another small stack, one which includes Knit Noro: 30 Designs in Living Color (another birthday gift I haven't really gotten to look at).
I took Artist's Journal Workshop with me back to my chair, realizing in the same moment that the languor of morning had basically passed... that boys were waking... that the tenor of the day would soon begin to take shape, my morning time winding down. Still, unwilling to give in and let go of the semblance of calm, I sat for a few minutes and read the introductory pages. In the back of my head, I wondered if maybe I should save the book to take with me in a few weeks. Even seeing the first few pages and samples, I am drawn, I am compelled, I feel the rise within to grab my journal... to again follow the path I was on a few years ago. I recently spent time looking through an older journal, one from the days of daily "visual" journaling and recordkeeping, and I miss that process... and I miss that capturing of line on my pages.
Just as I did when I recently looked at Danny's new book, An Illustrated Life: Drawing Inspiration from the Private Sketchbooks of Artists, Illustrators and Designers (or anytime I pick up The Creative License), I wanted to recommit and reconnect.
But instead of jumping up and grabbing my journal, I grabbed a Bluetooth keyboard and thought to write a simple Facebook status update, maybe urging someone else to check out the local craft extravaganza or nudging someone else to crack open a new journal. Instead of grabbing my journal and a pen, I grabbed a keyboard. (I suppose it is not necessarily a bad thing... it puts me one step closer to working on show notes that are open, are incomplete, and deal with some of these very topics.) And as I thought about the journals, about my journals, about the wonder of "watercolor kit" sketches (or tools sketches), about the ways in which I've never reached the line I want, the kind of line I love, I thought, again, about working in public... about stopping to sketch coffee as you have coffee... about being able to "be me" whenever and wherever. And in that process, I reached the full-circle spiral, as I landed right back in the heart of the unfinished show notes, notes with began recently with a mid-day tea.
Even as I thought about journaling, I let myself glance over at several different projects on the wall, knowing that I need to focus and plan and cut and get each organized so that I can move them along, especially the different applique projects...
And I didn't stop there. In the span of minutes, I cycled through many things... and then I headed to Facebook to leave a simple status. It began this way: Sunday morning: I am contemplating Renegade Craft Fair, cracked open Cathy Johnson's new Art Journal Workshop (though am tempted to save it for upcoming travel), pondering work project, thinking about show notes that are languishing, mentally making a list of things to cut, prep, plan...
It was too long. Too involved. And yet not enough.
So I headed here and let myself flesh it out a bit.
And in the time it took to follow the words, the drum beat of morning (and of Sunday) kicked in, as it almost always does, and the vibe has changed, the peace has been shattered, the edges are back in place, and we move on with the day.