Colors of Longing

As the snow, sleet and rain fall, spring has become a dreamscape to me. Something hinted at, caught out of the corner of my eye, a vague remembrance, and I am longing for it to become real. Real in the way of smell, touch and feel. Real in the way color suggests or nudges feeling. Working on some folded paper ideas, loving how the light plays on white paper, but still longing for softness, that hint of growth, of new, of freshness, I decided to get rid of the cool, impartial white and see what happens.

Square opening, 20 x 20in, paper

Wrapping Spring

J. came home with some daffodils the other day. I love the way that man grocery shops. We had been talking about memory; about how winter is a time barren of scent and how scent memory is so powerful, transporting one to another time and place. And while there are signs of spring with our longer days, I miss the smell of earth, of green, of growing. I long for bright, humid air full of golden sun and tiny green shoots glowing in the dirt. For now I console myself with the smell of daffs and the lovely, bright paper they were wrapped in.

Wrapping spring