Rocks are inspiring, intriguing and mysterious. They sit around in the studio, I pick them up and listen to the sound of them hitting each other as I juggle a few in the palm of my hand. My fingers rub the smooth surface and wonder how I can make them part of the next painting.
I love the look of buttons in a jar. Some are big and flat, some are little and thick. 4 holes or 2 did they live on a shirt or a jacket? Did the little shiny white one live alone on the back of a little girl's dress?
The line up of spools waiting for their contents to be unwound and reshaped into who knows what.....
My brushes with evidence of washes past call to me. Some of the ferrels are getting rusty but it constrasts so nicely with the blue that doesn't want to let go.
The soft flowing paint that I pushed around with a knife now sits raised and stiff revealing itself after the grit of sandpaper brings back the ridges of color.
*Well, I tried to get creative with the layout and it didn't work, hence the weird spacing.