Writing, talking, planning writing, talking more and aiming ourselves toward artfully-prepared meals and rich bouts of coffee has made me think about how art is not something separate that parallel-plays with us, but something meshed with moments, then documented or revealed in word or image of sound or motion. Making art can simply be opening a window or turning around, although it’s more like this art makes us and makes us aware.
The art of the cat sleeping in a circle on one particular square of the green quilt. The wind dance in all its winter-haunting dramatics. The nudge of the furnace coming on, in concert with that wind and dog loudly eating the sleeping cat’s food. Wabi sabi art of course, but the art that we can walk right out of or into at just about any moment, whether they are splashes and color or zebra stripes, or just quiet moments to think about it all.
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