Attending

I love this time of year in Reno. The light sneaks under eaves, making exquisite still lifes out of everyday clutter. It rakes across leafless cottonwoods, casting into stark relief their furrowed bark and stout trunks. If you’re out early enough, the light will shimmer as it passes through frosty rabbitbrush and cheat grass. The hawks, grateful for the return of the morning sun, will bask in the warm light, showing off their fluffy, buff breasts and sleek, banded tails. All feel justified in lingering in the light, as it is brief this time of year.

When asked on December 1st how I wanted to feel this month, I answered: attentive. I wanted to attend to the season. And by “season” I didn’t mean holiday season but rather the arrival of meteorological winter and the promise of the solstice and astronomical winter. Perhaps it’s the light that puts me in this mood, as this time of year even the mundane appears chosen and treasured, if only for a few moments each day.

Forgive me a brief diversion into etymology…”attentive” is related to “attend” which can be defined as “stretching one’s mind toward something.” One might debate whether “attentive” is a feeling; perhaps “attentive” is more of a posture, or a stance from which I can stretch my mind outward. Attentive is an attitude of openness towards the outside world, a willingness to pause for a moment and witness what I see—or touch or hear—while it too basks in the sun.

Studio work table in morning light.

Watercolors in morning light.

Morning reading time with my kitty and my tea.

This attending also brings me back to the studio to make work that also attends. I’m drawing with botanical inks and, in so doing, seeking openness and attunement. My hope is that the work inspires a porousness in the viewer, a permeability that permits the light to pass through and warm us all.

I’d love for you to see this new work! My studio mates and I are holding an open studio event this Saturday, December 14 from 2-5 PM at 3500 Lakeside Ct. My door will be open as will those of several of my colleagues. Plus, I have a couple botanical ink drawings on display at our neighbors, the COA Collective, as a part of an ongoing Downtown Modernists pop-up show.

Swatches of botanical inks after 13 months in natural light.

I painted this panel of swatches on November 9, 2023. They sat on a workbench in my studio for 13 months. The bench is near a south-facing window, and that window has deciduous trees outside it.

Swatches of botanical inks with blackout cover in place.

This panel of swatches has been sitting on a workbench in my studio for 13 months. The black paper obscures half of each swatch, allowing a test of the impact of UV light on the inks.

Also, a bonus update on my colorfastness experiment with botanical inks. I painted these swatches on November 9, 2023. They have rested on the top of a workbench near a south-facing window ever since. I cover half of each swatch with a strip of black paper so that only part of the swatch is exposed to (much) UV light. Although the window is south-facing, there are large, deciduous trees outside it. This means that the panel gets diffuse light in summer and some direct light in winter. All of these inks are made by Judi Pettite and carry her Biohue label.

I’m impressed with the results. I’ll do a longer write up in a future blog post, but I think these images speak volumes. Come by my open studio and see for yourself! (I’m using Biohue inks in my most recent pieces, one of which is featured in the studio worktable image above.)