Hello,
Right to my left — that is to the left of my newly cast-free arm — I have a small black box filled with cards that I call my Index of Delights. The cards are scribbled with thoughts, quotes, and reminders to myself. That’s where I found the title for this week’s newsletter: Show up Imperfectly. I’m feeling exceedingly imperfect these days and deeply tired of navigating the digital world. It’s nothing dire, mostly I’m putting this out here because I read something similar this morning and felt comforted. Maybe you need to hear the same.
I’ll be fine - this is a familiar loop. Honestly, the best part of growing into my 60s is learning to recognize emotional rhythms — how my attention ebbs and floods and how that play out in my daily practice. Captured in plants and color, my paintings are less about what I see and instead about paying attention to how I see. Last weekend I gave a talk to the Peninsula Art League about looking at the world through the lens of color. You betcha I was nervous, who am I to tell a roomful of artists (!!) about color theory and explain the idea that a color wheel is an abstract illustration of how colors relate to each other. Academic theories, color or otherwise, are secondary to the idea — the truth really — that the more we look, the more we see. That’s a topic I find endlessly fascinating.
The generosity of our attention expands our perception.
Looking closely with great heart changes how I perceive and move through the world. The real world that lies beyond digital metrics, “likes”, “follows”, and the ever illusive “engagement.” It’s good to look at what’s working and what’s not, what I want to do and what I’m doing out of rote habit. My creative endeavors seem to switch up on a 6- to 7-year cycle, which means I’m on the cusp of “The Next” — change isn’t always comfortable but it is a sign of growth. It’s a cumulative process, a stirring together of everything that came before mixed with new experiences and fresh perspectives seasoned with the unexpected. Basically a recipe for living a life. I’m so glad you’re here.
xo Lorene
Colors of the week
May 16, 2024
“It’s become a ritual devotion...[her] own private liturgy of the Church of the Spreading Vegetative God.” — Richard Powers, The Overstory
Euphorbia rigida certainly has mastered the “spreading vegetative” part. Yet I love its company in the garden on every day of the year.
May 17, 2024
Seemingly delicate common fumitory (Fumaria officinalis), or the rather enigmatic “earth smoke,” is a scrambling annual with the constitution of a weed. Think chickweed in a party dress. Essentially harmless.
May 18, 2024
“Be humble for you are made of earth, be noble for you are made of stars.” — Serbian proverb (or Carl Sagan depending on who you ask)
If you know someone who might like a weekly dose of color, click the button below to find out all the ways that you can share a handmade garden with others.
May 19, 2024
Garden grown ranunculus keeping company with —> homemade strawberry milk — a little dose of delightful.
May 20, 2024
Deconstructing glory.
Last week while fussing around in a bed I accidentally snapped off the first bud on a new iris — clumsy one-armed gardener. Not willing to give up hope, I balanced the stubby stem at the mouth of a tiny bud vase filled to the brim with water. After being gone for the weekend I came home to this! —> I think this is ‘Chasing Rainbows’ from Schreiner’s Gardens.
May 21, 2024
A watercolor anemone for a very rainy day that’s verging on aquatic.
But color me tickled — I am cast free and (almost) have the use of my left hand. Make no mistake, I’m going to wait until the skies dry up before I venture out into the garden.
In the store
How can we get notecards if the illustrations you have included with this Substack subscription?
I'm so glad you're cast-free! Thank you for sharing your glorious colors each week.