on the other side of the tracks, where i live ~ in the winter months when it is late at night and the cold air is heavy. i can hear the train horn blow. it carries on the thick, dark night and through my open window. sometimes the boxcars bang together as they rearrange themselves on the tracks. i love the sounds of my side of the tracks in the winter.

it is merely an illusion that the grass is greener on the other side of the tracks
each side possesses it’s own shade of green

unfinished, stamped, paint pages

linoleum block that I carved when i was talking on the phone with a friend one afternoon.

As we travel the tracks through our lives, many of us have a tendency to focus our gaze through one window. One perspective. Willingly allowing ourselves to shift positions and observe from another portal brings a richness to life’s experiences. A different or new perspective will change the way the world looks. Look all around. Look beyond the horizon. Look beyond the stars. Look beyond the obvious. There is beauty in everything, There is tragedy in everything. It depends on what scope you are looking through. Perspective and perception and our position or location that we are at in any given moment is what influences our view. Ride easy, look around, take it all in and put it all together to create a perfect picture/story.

I don’t feel like myself today, maybe I am you.

I feel like I have been here before, it looks familiar.

I live in a neighborhood that smells like beans and laundry. I can find my way home with my eyes closed.

It’s a little rough around the edges.

It might be a little seedy.

Ice cream trucks drive by my house, one after another. Some are made like real ice cream trucks and some are made out of family mini vans with the side door opened up. They all play different songs that get stuck in my head sometimes.

The cover is evolving. My fingers cannot stop drawing. Posted below are a few more pages from the sketchbook project.

all the girls on the other side of the tracks go barefoot and sew their own clothes from flour sacks. they lighten their hair with fresh lemon juice off of their trees and the power of the sun. they use beets on their cheeks for color. they grow and can their own food, they nurture and are nurtured by nature. they do everything with heart. they barter goods and services.they gaze at the stars and dance in the moonlight and then kiss their babies and lovers goodnight.

all the girls on the other side of the tracks buy fancy shoes and expensive jewelry. they wear designer make up and use products in their hair. their purses are full of plastic cards to pay for their plastic lives. they shoot their faces with botox and inject their lips with collagen. they lift their breasts and drive away in their fancy cars, latte and cell phone in hand.

where man creates division between one side and the other. nature is only one and all inclusive. true progress is only made through the natural powers of this universe. no division. only connected, each thing with the other.

My pile of art supplies for my sketchbook project.

Paint, markers, technical pens, glue stick, paper supplies and a big imagination are all sitting on my dresser, next to my bed. I’m usually standing in front of an easel or sitting at a table with a paintbrush in my hand, and without a given topic, so this is new territory for me. I have never considered myself a “journal person”….I know some Master Journal Goddesses and I just don’t have what it takes, I guess. No comparison to Violette, Teesha Moore, Suzi Blu, Jane Eileen, Kristy Baker or many of the very talented journal artists. So, I am mostly strengthening my ability to ignore my inner critic, and she seems to have A LOT to say as I play with this book! I have never appreciated authority figures all that much and my inner critic thinks she is an expert on EVERYTHING (don’t tell her, but, I really don’t like her and I wish she would just move out!). I never invite her into my studio when I’m creating, but sometimes she just barges in. So rude. Nonetheless, I am having fun.

Okay, I got involved with a sketchbook project through the ArtHouse Co-op. They send you a book with a bar code, your name, location and a topic.