December 14, 2016

This morning the first snow of the season fell delicately on the overgrown taxus branches outside my kitchen window. As the temperatures rose slightly it turned to rain. On this grey morning, close to the year’s end, I share with you this detail from my artists' book Rain Comes in July, ©1999, that imagines rain as a visitor with super powers of invisibility and being in more than one place at a time.

July 15, 2015

Every summer seems to hit a point when rain stays away and the exposed ground hardens and cracks. This image,of an artists’ book I made in July 1999, is titled

Rain Comes in July, Long Awaited.  That summer was lacking in rainfall  and in July we did not have rain either, despite the wishful thinking of my title.

The text came first. Rain is speaking. It begins I slip in through the gate. I stand in the back yard listening. I look in the window. I am so gentle in the near darkness, you may think I am not here at all.

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

July 8, 2015

Thinking about rain, saying yes to rain and welcoming it, realizing it will do what it wants.

In this drawing I was interested in playing with how to draw rain. The house is a version of my house.

  

 

 

 

 

 

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