Entries in senses (35)
senses. chocolat.
{see}
the deep brown piece of dark chocolate is almost black. i hold it in my hand and smile with anticipation. i walk back to the couch. take a seat. take a breath.
{touch}
the surface of this small morsel of chocolate is smooth. as i run my finger over it, i feel the slight grooves on one side. a little piece melts off onto my finger.
{smell}
i bring the piece toward my mouth and inhale. i close my eyes and am transported. to a small cafe in france with bright yellow walls and red tablecloths; i sit alone and bring a cup of the hot cocoa to my lips and the heat from the drink warms my chilled body. to a shop in belgium where i imagine my husband brings two truffles for us to the bench where i sit outside; his would be coconut, mine double chocolate. to a line outside a chocolatier that is so small only a few people can stand in the shop at a time; as I stand in line the odors waft out through the open door and my stomach starts to rumble. to a couch (or two) in england where i am curled up next to a friend (or two) sharing a bar of chocolate as we laugh and cry and tell stories. to a movie theatre where we pass a box of sno caps between us. to a kitchen in los angeles where i watch a friend make her famous peanut butter and chocolate candies, and lucky me, i get to lick the beaters. to a backyard bonfire where we all roast marshmallows and break hershey bars in half to make smores; i look around and all of my tribe is there with me as we listen to a story of far off places and gypsies and secret passages.
{hear}
in my head, i hear the soundtrack from chocolat. it has been running through my head all day as i have thought about this topic. then the piece of chocolate snaps with a slight sound as i take a bite.
{taste}
the bitter, rich flavor explodes on my tongue immediately. and as it melts, i begin to taste the sweet. just enough to satisfy the need. for now.
{and know}
even though i may not have traveled to all the places the smell of chocolate takes me and enjoyed the perfect evening of chocolate and friendship with some of my dear friends...i know that it does bring us together. this feast for the senses. this sweet, bitter, luscious treat. hope we can enjoy some together soon.
senses senses. artfest day 4, morning.
{feel}
i reach down into the sand and feel the smooth rocks of all different shapes and sizes. i turn a round one over and over in my hand. the air is cold against my face. rain drops onto my head, cheeks, nose, shoulders. i reach down again and pick up a rock with a sea plant attached to it...long dead. the rock and plant together look like a human heart. a human heart. i feel the sand as it sticks to my fingers. i rub them together trying to remove some of it. then i feel the cold water as i put my fingertips in to wet them and wash them off. the rain again falling on my head, my nose. as i find the spot to build my altar, i decide to put my fleece gloves on. instantly, my hands are warmed.
{smell}
i take a breath and inhale the dampness and the cold of the fresh, wide, open air of the sea. at some point, i am so cold that my nose starts to run. i smell very little during this adventure.
{taste}
as i work on my altar, i pause to take a drink of water. the clean taste of the water cleanses my palette and my mind. just for a moment.
{hear}
the water laps quietly as the small waves roll in and out. seagulls cry around me. high in the sky. along the edge of the water behind me. i am far enough away from everyone else that i do not hear any human voices. as i move rocks, i hear my own breath as some of them are heavy. one makes a loud curplunk down onto the sand as i move it yet again and drop it. i walk back down to the water and hear myself gasp as i find another rock that looks like a heart. this time in the shape of a typical heart. later i hear a voice. though no one is around. the voice answers a question i have just thought aloud in my head.
{see}
the beauty of the beach at fort worden. low tide. so much to see. rocks, plants, kelp, shells, empty bodies that once had crabs within them, sea gulls, people, water, islands, seagrass, the twisty shapes of medrona tress, a pair of ducks, so many colors within all of this sea life. oranges, pinks, greens, greys, whites, blacks, purples, greens, reds. as i walk, i pick up the pieces that draw me in. the rocks, shells, plants. i find a spot that is to be my spot for the next hour or so. the place where i will create a nature altar. i first draw in the wet sand, but i can't find what appeals to me. i look to the right and see another large rock that almost have a cave underneath it. i move to it and look around. as i find a few larger rocks to add to my little pile, i decide to stack them. i also create little pile of multi-colored rocks.
then an idea comes to me and i create a circle of black rocks that all look alike around this stack of rocks. on top of the stack goes my human heart rock. this is me. in the sea of things that are alike, i feel lost and alone and stripped down to my heart. i move the heavy large rock that has a little indentation in it where water has pooled...i move it to the left of this little mountain i have created. and i put some little plants in this small pool on the top of this rock. and i create a circle around this big rock. a circle of all the little things that i have picked up as i walked to this spot. the small rocks of all different colors, little plants, funny fuzzy stuff that looks like hair but is really a sea plant, shells of all different sizes. the heart sees this land of funny creatures and wants to be a part of it. so i must figure out a way to get it there. i try to build a bridge but it does not seem to work or to be the right addition to this altar. how will this heart rock climb off of this mountain? i think to myself, "i don't know how to get there. how will i get across this valley between the two?"
{and know}
when you suddenly hear a voice say, "you have wings," take a breath and hold on. you are about to visit places you only let yourself dream about...
senses senses. a day with blue sky.
{see}
{hear}
{taste}
{touch}
{smell}
{and know}
senses senses. inspire me thursday.
{see}
my art supplies scattered all over the dining room table. the colors that result as i mix blue and purple paint. the lines in the photo that begin to appear as i scratch away with sandpaper. color disappears and reappears as i apply bleach and water to the photo with a brush. some of my grandmother's favorite seashells in a bowl on the table. the joys of figuring out a way to add them and finding the ones that already have a hole in them. deciding where to place these objects on the canvas. over here? no. here? hmmm. how about this way? yes.
{hear}
I tear the paper and head to my office. the typewriter keys move and create letters on the newsprint. click, click. the words come from my brain to the page. click, click, zing. as i ponder how to adhere the shells to the canvas, i tap a pencil on the table. after my a-ha moment, i hear my feet along the floor as i run to the guest room closet. my long-lost bead collection. the beads roll and tumble in their plastic containers as i pull the bag off the shelf. my feet again as i run back to the table. i open the bag and the containers inside. "yes!" i cry. wire. david wilcox sings in the background and i am a back-up singer as i twist the wire into knots. my husband asks, "do you want some tea?" yes, please, i reply.
{smell}
the fume-y-ness of paint, gel medium, and bleach. the woodsy, clean green tea as i bring the mug to my lips when i pause to let things dry. later, the strong wrinkle-up-your-nose smell of the varnish; a cross between oh-what-is-that-odor and moth balls.
{taste}
i bring my fingertip to my tongue in anticipation of leafing through some paper and grimace as i my tongue hits the coppery taste from the wire that lingers on my finger. in the hope of capturing a memory of the sea, i bring a shell to my tongue. but i taste nothing. the warm, soothing green tea as it slides over my tongue and down my throat.
{feel}
these moments are all about touch. i use my hands for everything. i feel the stickiness of the glue on my fingers. the rough, little pebble-like feel of the sandpaper. the smooth, then rough, round, edges of the shells. the wire as i sew the shells together. twist, turn, loop, thread.
{and know}
an artist. yes. an artist. there is an artist inside me who danced and laughed and sang as i created this piece of me. you have one inside you, too.
see other inspire me thursday art pieces that use all of the senses here.
the typewritten words say:
do not fear
the unknown
embrace
the
questions
the answers
are the guts
of it all
your life
senses