take a walk with me
I like to start my work with a walk around the neighborhood.
I think I need that; a certain amount of time not at my computer. My body seems to appreciate the opportunity to synch up with my mind. But I use it for more than just finding headspace and improving circulation and breathing.
One part of creativity is making things. The precursor is gathering material and developing imagination. I don’t yet know the number of weird inputs, the amount of hours with a quiet mind, far from screens, the amount of visuals and tactile experiences and tastes I have to ingest to assemble a “good” creative output. (Creativity can feel tricky and illusive). But I do know that serious professionals take their work seriously. Athletes practice. It is their work. I trust their example.
When I go for my walks, I am exploring. I notice things, and I ask questions about those things and dream up their stories.
I am practicing seeing.
hello!
Most of the time I’m walking a familiar route. The benefit of the familiarity is that I can tune myself to look deeper and deeper at subjects I see all the time. And I see all the seasonal changes and a shocking amount of new details every day.
I live in a northern suburb of Boston, in a thickly settled neighborhood made up of houses mostly, with some apartments. We have a commuter rail stop and a bridge over the rails, a little commercial district about 2 blocks long, a fire station, and a grade school all very close by.
my morning face
Now that I’ve been walking and jogging the area, I also have some natural landmarks (many little clumps of woods and granite and a few good hills with views) that I like to visit. It isn’t terribly cold, but I’m bundled up because I freeze if its less than 70 degrees outside.
Today, the first thing I notice is that the sun is intense, it takes me a minute to focus my eyes as they get used to that. Then I see that the shadows are very prominent. They usually are this time of year because the sun is hitting Massachusetts at such an extreme angle.
extreme shadows, baby
I’m taking in the color palette as my eyes get used to the bright sun. Lots of grays and browns - some have a red-y gold tone of the early morning light. I honestly feel at a loss for how I’d mix some of these colors. I’ll take some pictures to try and document it, even though my phone will do a little translating with color that I don’t trust.
mysterious & dominant color palette
I detour into Most Blessed Sacrament. It’s my little Catholic church, about 3 blocks from my front door. It is often locked, but if I get there before 9am, especially on Mondays and Tuesdays when they have 8am daily mass, sometimes the doors are open. Today they are. It is dark inside which makes the stained glass really yummy. It doesn’t have that classic church-basement smell today, instead it smells like baked sweets. Maybe the church ladies had donuts and coffee after mass and the rosary.
I take 10 minutes to pray in the giant empty space.
When my mind gets all antsy and I’m thinking too much about the next parts of the day I excuse myself, like a kid from the dinner table, and get back on the street.
Most Blessed Sacrament
I love the early part of this particular route. I head on my way to the bridge that goes over the train tracks, but I take stock of the big stand of deciduous trees on the right. There are three wasp nests in the course of the next block and a half. I always stare at them. One seems to be disintegrating and I wonder if there are some wasps or larvae that are trying to over winter in that thing. I haven’t thought about it enough to research the life cycles of wasps…yet… I’m getting closer to wanting answers.
When I get to the train bridge, I look down at the granite hillside. Recently it has had these wonderful ice formations hanging off of it from rain and melting snow trickling down. I have been thinking about abstract forms and shapes in nature, and these smooth, frozen ice shapes cascading over hard, straight edges of rocks is endlessly interesting to me. (Forgive the photo, all my pictures of this were terrible.)
abstract ice
I head down a little street along the tracks, noticing a deer statue in a side-yard. It’s legs end at about the knee and become raw rebar, poking into the ground. It makes me laugh out loud even though I’ve seen the same statue dozens and dozens of times before.
The walk is a big rectangle and I’m turning toward home. I spot a sticky hand thing on the ground. It sends me into childhood memories of going to the St. Teresa’s Parish Bazaar with its games, homemade crafts and a cake-walk. As a kid, I annually saved my allowance to win trinkets and candy at that church fundraiser. I remember winning and playing with sticky hand things like this until they were too grimy to stick to anything.
found: object + memories
A few blocks later, I find a pile of old rakes out by the curb in anticipation of a garbage pickup tomorrow. They are old and rusty, but gorgeously heavy. I spend a little time looking at the craftsmanship before picking a garden rake to take home. I count the tines, 14, and look at the assembly as I march home. I pause once to touch and admire a dried hydrangea.
I get to the school yard, and marvel at the giant rock hill with a couple cedars at the top. I really wonder how old those babies are. And today, I’m noticing some weeds that remain oh so green despite the many frosts and cold days we’ve had in the past 6 weeks. I wonder how they stay green and how much photosynthesis is going on. I also have many questions about what is happening in the soil.
But I’m getting close to being home and my mind is moving from the beautiful day and it’s details to my desk in the studio and the work ahead… I have a lot of accounting to do to close out the year. I have a new determination to create a daily drawing habit…
I go inside and heat water for a big ball jar of peppermint tea. It’s 9:30am. I’m ready to get started.