Leo Clement

There hasn't been much going on that has been blog worthy in our life. Other than, you know, the usual day to day drama which just isn't inspiring or anything that I want to actually waste time sitting down and typing. So far I've tried to avoid posts which just ramble on in "dear dairy" land, but today, honestly, I don't have any deep thoughts, and no share worthy crisis has rained down upon our heads. We have been becalmed, as they say. Isn't that a lovely word? Be...calmed. Becalmed. Caught in a lull, a cessation of wind and storm, so that we drift gently upon the waters and wait. There's no hurry. Every tiny thing becomes worthy of deep observation. The way the translucent spring sunshine baths the fields and how the grass stretches and pulls itself up and how the leaves uncurl and flex under its rays. It's calm and yet invigorating at the same time. The sun seems to dane on Leo's head, playfully turning his still growing back hair into...

So a long long time ago, in a land far far away, when I was going to Art School, I used to despise self-portraits. And you know- every single professor in every single medium and discipline required at some point in the course - to create a self-portrait. I hated doing it. I was like every young girl out there, totally insecure and confused about "who I was." Unfortunately it really was as cliche as it sounds. The real irony was I knew it, but I still decided that it should be the way to go. You know my self-portraits really weren't even half bad, when I look at them now almost nine years later. They were, without any help from me at the time, honest. An accidental self-honesty. Self-portrait, graphite, conte crayon, and charcoal,  2002 I think that somewhere down the line of adulthood which is filled with temptations and trials that "grow us" we somehow loose that self-honesty. We don't "do" self-portraits anymore, and if we do, they ce...

You know that feeling; it usually comes in the morning as I'm rushing around half asleep trying to get school lunch packed, breakfast made, Leo changed and ready for his morning therapy sessions, bills looked at and sighed over, and laundry... well laundry usually can wait. The weather outside the window when this feeling arises is horrible as usual, a combination of cold with either something gross falling from the sky, or something gross on the ground, like three feet of mud and muck. There's no sign of spring flowers and chirpy birds and Easter bunnies. And the feeling comes on like a ton of bricks: we need a change!! A break, an escape from the stress of the routine, something needs to be shaken up, and new experiences and new sights to be made.   So this time, when the feeling hit us a couple weeks ago, instead of just griping about it, we just went ahead and did it. We left. Not for long, don't worry! No bridges were burnt, and no children left behind. We pac...