Slices of Beauty
800 Photos in Two Hours: What a Brace, a Phone,...
I went to Schreiner's Iris Gardens in Salem, Oregon, intending to take a few good reference shots. Two hours later, my phone held over 800 photographs, my brace was making...
800 Photos in Two Hours: What a Brace, a Phone,...
I went to Schreiner's Iris Gardens in Salem, Oregon, intending to take a few good reference shots. Two hours later, my phone held over 800 photographs, my brace was making...
I Fell Up the Stairs.
A fractured wrist mid-studio season sounds manageable — until you realize your left hand holds the palette, sharpens the pastels, and carries the canvases. Oil pastel artist Cynthia Yolland writes...
I Fell Up the Stairs.
A fractured wrist mid-studio season sounds manageable — until you realize your left hand holds the palette, sharpens the pastels, and carries the canvases. Oil pastel artist Cynthia Yolland writes...
On Making · Slow Art 🌸
I live in the Pacific Northwest, where the sun does not always cooperate. Varnishing must happen outdoors, in dry conditions, in good light. Some pieces wait weeks for the right...
On Making · Slow Art 🌸
I live in the Pacific Northwest, where the sun does not always cooperate. Varnishing must happen outdoors, in dry conditions, in good light. Some pieces wait weeks for the right...
What My Garden Taught Me About Making Art
There are mornings when getting to the garden is its own small triumph. I move slowly on those days, and the garden doesn't rush me. It simply waits, the way...
What My Garden Taught Me About Making Art
There are mornings when getting to the garden is its own small triumph. I move slowly on those days, and the garden doesn't rush me. It simply waits, the way...
Everyday in Color
You notice things other people walk past — the way afternoon light turns poppy petals into stained glass, the exact blue the sky goes just before dusk. This is written...
Everyday in Color
You notice things other people walk past — the way afternoon light turns poppy petals into stained glass, the exact blue the sky goes just before dusk. This is written...
Why I Create
In those years, creating didn’t look particularly romantic. There were no studios or uninterrupted hours. There was paper. A ballpoint pen. Crayons — because they were safe, and they were...
Why I Create
In those years, creating didn’t look particularly romantic. There were no studios or uninterrupted hours. There was paper. A ballpoint pen. Crayons — because they were safe, and they were...