If you are like me, looking for ways to simplify expression, minimize head clutter, and subsequently my canvases too, this may be for you. ‘Exploring Minimalism in Mixed Media’ will be offered one last time this year in Whidbey Island,
*Lumps in Throats* New this morning, to read and listen to, on orlyavineri.substack.com 🤎🩶🤎
Two spots became available in this!!! Come with us, to this once a year special event. With me and @leighannalight 🩵💚🤎 Info @ orlyavineri.com/workshops
Summer, almost 7 years ago, freshly bought, and now, spring, all dressed up and ‘staying home’.
On these adorned little plains, waiting between black and white, is the one and only question of the day. How many answers do they offer? And which one and only will you pick and adore today? I want to know.
No matter what happens today, I will cry. I will cry for something, perhaps something that has nothing to do with today, or even this moment. I will cry for a piece of paper I once called ‘Mine’, the one that was on my work table just a f
~ Midway of a trembling ~ Midway, on the working table of a workshop.
We who care too much to give ourselves what we find to be the flattering title ‘Artists’, specifically Visual Artists, believe we have the capacity, the tools, and the noble purpose of being helpful to society, even able to change it, whe
This is *NEW* This five day workshop is new. This theme is new. Working with her is new. My beautiful friend Michelle Geller @holddear And it’s up on orlyavineri.com/workshops It’s open for registration, and already more than half ful
Tomorrow starting a workshop at my place in Salem, Oregon. Next month I’ll be in Sinaia, Romania. June in Taos, New Mexico. And then July, I’m back, closer to home, in one of my favorite, most peaceful places on earth. Whidbey Island,
Slow, Steady, and Random New this morning to read and listen to on orlyavineri.substack.com 🤎🩵🤎
‘Enough for me to die on her earth be buried in her to melt and vanish into her soil then sprout forth as a flower played with by a child from my country. Enough for me to remain in my country’s embrace to be in her close as a hand
Very rainy days lately. Spring feels like winter. Soggy soil sticks to boots. Carried inside. Making soup with Baby Bok Choy and Enoki mushrooms. Liquid calm. Silly fantasies of safety. Tears coming down cheeks, going nowhere. Heightened sensitiv
Sunday Chill
Do you feel it too? This place, along with 🧑‍🦲📖, and others? How saddening it became? For us all and for our expression of freedom to not be shown to those it was originally intended to be shown? As it once was. The separations that are force
Abandonments of the best kind Entering the euphoria of gardening season. Hours of magnificent effort, labor, the grand rest, the understanding of possible desired simplicity, the noticing of comforts. The learning of nature, and through it, our cha
Two views. One, seen on a bathroom floor of a restaurant, under artificial light. Behind a locked door. Second, breathed in, from a garden chair, while reclining in the back, by the creek, for the first time this year. In the open night. Taki
~ Self-containment ~ Shinji - - She teaches many things while she’s asleep. And when she gets the zoomies.
New on orlyavineri.substack.com to read and listen to this morning: Between Land and Sea