Monday, May 25, 2015

Chrysalis Heart Clutch

As the mother of a three year old I am learning doubly firsthand that we are not born 
all there, all blossomed. We arrive at our ripeness in varying stages,
and for each soul a completely unique time.

Some say their 'glory days' were high school,
while someone else might regale you with tales of painful awkward teenage ostracism.

I think the twenties were a time of god-awful fumbling, but I have friends who sigh over white wine
and wish that they would miraculously be plopped back into that oversexed 
discovery zone.

For each embodied soul, a time comes when they hatch out of that ever-thinning 
clock-cloak, dry their wings and take off in a way that they never conceived they could.

I think that my own Monarch heart is a few years off from that cosmic right-time.
It's something to do with early motherhood and the understanding that this utterly dependent (though ever less so) kid is not always going to be small and needy.

Someday I will not be stealing away to studio time like a lover
or missing those wrist rolls already;
grieving the tiny changes that will make my son a man
while wishing I could make more time to take care of my damn self.

If you've already flown I hope you are still alight in that just-right place,
savoring the freedom of those colorful wings every single day

but if you sense, like me, that your bursting-forth is approaching like Christmas morning
then I say from this same place

to take heart, friend!!!!
For all the days that you find yourself wrapped in the sheath of limit
find the wiggle room: list the gifts.
Be grateful and prepare your whole life
for big miracles!

I believe in our constant and hard-won evolution,
that we were born to get bigger and better
and to let love win as often as we can.

I believe in the beauty of our chrysalis hearts, beating wildly against the 
white bones of the rib cage

and I know that in all the ways they grow and change that they are thrumming
and alive with pulse and grace
forever and ever

The Chrysalis Heart clutch will be in the 


Made entirely of veg-tanned tooling leather (double milled for the body)
and dyed by me!
Lined with dark grey pig suede.
Inlaid with two mirrored slices of mookaite wrapped in fine and sterling silvers.
riveted, stitched and snapped securely.
Two hand rests for a more secure carry.
Painted with high-flow acrylic in bold sweet colors.

Made with tender love and prayer in California.


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Warm Weather Beauty for You


Sweet Heart of Summer Cuff. Indian Ricegrass. Pepper Flower. Cool purple-flash Moonstone.
Thick and light, just like late-afternoon heat.


Libra Earrings. Polished Quartz. Brass. Conch shell tulip. Baltic Amber. Sleeping Beauty Turquoise. Peridot.

Reverse Entropy Earrings. Pinned Carnelian slice, long and lean. Labradorite. Wait till you see its 'other'...

Hanging Garden Earrings, Faceted Quartz Edition. Carved Mother of Pearl layered flowers. Sterling chain drape

Hanging Garden Earrings. Carved Mother of Pearl. Polished Quartz. Sterling silver.

All of these beautiful things will be in the 

tomorrow around noon

Just a note about future grouped offerings, like earrings and such: there may be very little for a while beyond a few custom slots
and a few gorgeous leather bags. Some necklaces that have been half-made and wanting more.

I'll absolutely keep you posted here when things come to fruition, but mostly the next few months will be the tying up of loose ends, designs that I've long wanted to complete,
pieces people have been deeply patient about.

And then a much-deserved break. 

Have a gorgeous day!


Monday, May 4, 2015

Without Getting Away

"Hi, little Artist.
Hi, often-depleted maker and worker bee.
Dinner chef.

Know-er of Right Things.
Rarely in compliance with The Refill.

Tell me: how do you constantly give such loving, empowering advice to your friends and leave yourself in the lurch?"

That's what my Big Artist asked me yesterday when I decided to stay home from a trip up Niles Canyon with my boys.
I reasoned that I could get more studio hours in if I was solitary, that I might even sneak out to the hammock and sun-bake for fifteen minutes.
I reasoned.
My heart, on the other hand, was aching.
These are memories I cannot re-get later in life when the boy is more boy than babe.
I cannot re-see my handsome mate in the antique passenger car,
I cannot feel the ghost of my Uncle Walter with each train whistle
I cannot be five again
if I am by my self
at home

I write this over my morning coffee, refreshed and inspired.
I write this with the smell of oil smoke on yesterday's laundry pile
and a flutter in my heart when I think of my husband.
I write this knowing that anytime you take on an adventure there is a handshake with Life. 
We are train people, we should be on trains often.

A glorious unexpected gift: hexa web mixed-grade star sapphires in blues, purples and greys
at an unassuming antique store.
They are so astounding in the palm of my hand.

So to you, reading this:

where is your rut?
Is it so comfortable that you don't even know that you're halfway down your well-worn path again?
Can you lose your sensibility for an afternoon or a night?

I write to you from the other side of my usual coin
with a happy assurance that you refill more wells
than you ever could
if you stayed home:

what do you get
without getting away?