Hello October. 🙂 I’m entering a very big phase of transition, which of course for me predictably comes with heaps of anxiety and writing about plants. I’m about to move out of my house I’ve lived in for 14 years. Away from my garden, the only consistent place I’ve truly been able to be myself for over a decade. It’s where I’ve learned so much. Not just about tending to soil, seeds and plants… it’s where I’ve learned about myself. Gosh, I love a garden analogy!! So, until I find my next garden, I’ll leave you this little bit of writing that came to me while watching the milkweed plants make their showy fall transition. If you’ve never touched milkweed fluff, I highly recommend.

The milkweed pods are releasing their fluff in the wind. The tomatoes are draped, if not starting to be suffocated, by the morning glory vines. A sign of a vibrant and fruitful summer.

We can never be alone when we are touching something. A blade of dewy grass, a quilt sewn by a grandmother gone, the cheap laminate floor of a first home, bread dough set out to rise. Even in our soulless moments of giving into all this sadness, the things that seem so inanimate and lifeless…hold us. Quietly and desperately we are knit together with everything surrounding us. Maybe because we can’t not touch something. 

Blame gravity for your mid-age wrinkles, but you also owe it a debt of gratitude for keeping you so close. Held like a swaddled baby, rocking in whatever arms you manage to find. The cruel cold cement of a sidewalk or the plush warm cotton of a luxury mattress. The vast forest floor with miles of mycelium stretching out beneath you. We all are resting our pounds of brutally alive bone and flesh down, down, down. 

I envy the plants, engineered to root into this agreement of holding. It’s as if they are holding right back. The dandelion with its long defiantly deep taproot making it frustratingly impossible to pull. The sunflower with its little near-the-surface dirt clod full of spindly root-arms grabbing on hard and not letting go. Even as it’s long sunshine topped neck stretches eight, nine, ten feet. Strength comes in varied designs, revealing how many ways it’s possible to hold and be held. 

And here we are, constantly in motion. All of us bumping around, bipeds with enough strength and softness to curb world hunger and stop climate change in its tracks. But all we mostly do is run into each other, fall over, get mad, start again. Wanting to be held, wanting something to hold…learning so little about it all while thinking we know so very much. 

Seeing my own flaws and stubborn ways of ignorance as much as the next, I return to the garden. I don’t know what I’m holding on to or what tethers me, but it’s the garden where I awaken. Maybe I am that milkweed seed still floating. Wispy white feathery frills designed to carry something precious through the air. Signaling the ending of a cycle almost like a flag of surrender. A little seed is such a humble glimpse of a new beginning, a hopeful future. You would miss it entirely if you didn’t know its language. It floats untethered…waiting for something to catch it so it can begin again. Down, down, down…into a new way of holding.

Last summer I brought a group of artists together for the Sound Wall Mural project. I knew each artist separately or was a fan of their work. Some of them knew each other, some of them didn’t. Lots of friendships grew out of that project, and so did Party of Six. It’s simply a casual friend group of artists who have a lot of common ground and mutual admiration. We support each other when there’s a creative need and up to this point that has been mostly just for personal enjoyment and fulfillment. A month and a half or so ago, Rose Honey (top left) asked us all to be a part of building a special installation for Terrain 16 (Terrain’s flagship 2 day art event in downtown Spokane). We of course said yes and didn’t realize we were in for a ride!

The project is a giant, larger than life, dinner party all made of papier mache. I hate papier mache. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that when I said yes to this project. It’s not a medium I’ve touched since I was probably 12 and Rose makes it look so freakin easy so I didn’t really realize how hard it actually is. It’s a medium that requires a lot of time and patience. Something I haven’t had in abundance.

That being said, through stress and tears and chaos we have persevered! Thursday (tomorrow) and Friday our installation will be on display. And it’s incredibly cute, whimsical, fun, surprising and silly. I’m obsessed with it.

Here’s all the details of the event. Our install is on the 3rd floor.

With October comes a feeling of urgency for artists like me who count on winter market season to do nearly half of my full year’s amount of art sales. And that means preparing a LOT of inventory! It’s a really fun, exciting, fast paced time when I get make a lot of work, and I get to see a lot of you in person. Right now I have my head down working on new cards, prints and other products to bring to markets. Just over a month ago I got in as a member at Urban Art Co-op, the pottery co-op I’ve taken classes at. So, for the past month, and for the next month, I’ll be spending a lot of time there creating fun sculptures and functional ceramic pieces to offer at my booths. Here’s a couple little things that just came out of the kiln that warmed my heart. I’m trying to make enough emotional support geese for everyone who might want one! 🙂

October 3rd
Zola - duo set of original tunes opening for Matt Mitchell

October 20th
Full band Alcohol & Feelings at Maxwell House - 7:30pm

I hope you have many things to look forward to this month. Thank you for reading and as always, feel free to say hello!

Karli