Parental Appreciation.

Parents: Can't live with them, can't live without them.  I think it's safe to say that the routes in which relationships between parents and children take are notably inconsistent in the fact that they are steadily evolving and being viewed in different lights.  I know that my relationship with my parents has been a true testament to this theory of mine, at least in the small amount of life experience that I have gained over the past 20 years.  In all this, I also can't help but notice and find amusing that much like the events of history, the patterns of this relationship I have with my mom and dad is what I have observed so far to be a repeating cycle.

Like most little girls, up until about the age of 7 I found my parents to be the absolute coolest.  I rarely stopped holding my dad's hand or sitting in my mom's lap, excluding obvious situations like school, sports, and a number of other independent activities that simply would not function properly with a full grown human at my side.  

Then, set in my awkward phase.  It was a terrible time for me in terms of appearance, due to my lack of knowledge in how to tame my wavy, frizzy hair... my older sister even took it upon herself to label me with the endearing nickname, "smush-bush" because of the state of my hair and the fact that I was still working on growing into my nose (by this point I'm sure some fabulous imagery is happening for you).  Not only were my looks shocking, in a bad way, at this stage of life, but this stage also ushered in my pre-teen years, then extending into my teenage (high school) years.  We all know what this means: sassy, angsty, attitude.

At this point I viewed myself as far too sensational to be seen with my parents, and more often times than not was convinced that despite my age (it's just a number, right?) and life experience, I was, in fact, far more wise and cultured.  As a result, I rarely listened to things they had to say, or rules they enforced because in my mind, as cliche teenager as this may sound, they just didn't understand anything I was going through- extremely dramatic, I know.

Now, as I am just barely emerging from my teen years, I like to think that I have discovered some new truths about the many things that I have been blessed with.  One of those blessings being the extraordinary parents that have been a constant in my life and raised me in a way that clearly points to their foundation in Christ.

I'm beginning to find myself back at stage one: thinking my parents are the absolute coolest (omit the part about me constantly holding my dad's hands and sitting on my mom's lap- it's just not practical, or normal for that matter anymore).  I've come to appreciate them for who they are and everything they stand for, whether it be in temporary things or eternal things.  I mean, seriously, the majority of people don't get to say that in the 70's their mom played guitar with The Drifters, and their dad took Elivs' suit to the cleaners at the spry young age of a high school boy while working at the Macon Hilton, and together have gone hiking in the Swiss Alps, met the President of the United States, and have raised three incredibly different, yet complicatedly similar daughters well.

The list goes on and on, and I am always surprised when they tell me another story of the sort, because it truly seems like a never ending archive.  But in reality, while I do find myself amazed by their countless adventures, I am even more in awe of their eternal perspective, love for the Lord, and the way in which they have raised me with wisdom, prayer, my best interest placed above theirs, and just plain joy.

So thanks, Douglas and Elizabeth Williams for being the coolest and best parents out there, and for putting up with my childish, dramatic, and foolish ways.  Keep doing what you do!  I love you both a whole lot and hope to be as good of a parent as each of you are to me one day.  Lastly, sorry if I made you cry, Mom (another great quality of my mom: she is very tenderhearted).

Purple.

In case you haven't noticed, Lucy and I have strategically chosen the layout of this space to be composed of primarily neutral colors.  The reason for this being we want to be able to excite this space with colors from our own stories and creations, not pre-chosen ones that may have nothing to do with our current ideations.

This leads me to my next point of interest.

Purple.

If you know me well, you know that my favorite color is purple.  It is the perfect marriage of one of the warmest temperatures of color, red, and moving onto the cooler side of the color wheel, blue.  To put it plainly, it is a brilliant range of hues occurring between red and blue.

I generally try to communicate my passion for purple as frequently as possible whether it be in the things I wear, or the canvases that I cover.

You see, not only is purple a color that I like to look at, but a hue that allows me to brighten up a rainy, gray day with the color of my pants, or a shade belonging to the flowers sitting on my desk that remind me of the creativity of my maker, or the wonderful scent of the mediterranean mint, lavender, which instantly calms me.  Not to mention, it was formerly worn as a symbol of royalty or high office.

So heres to you, purple, for being of the most terrific colors out there, and calling my attention to some of the better things in life.

From Me, To You.

If you tell me (or anyone for that matter) that you dislike receiving letters in the mail, chances are, you're lying. 

Letters are special. They are something to physically hold in your hand, to read over again, to carry with you and to collect. 

It's an intentional act, letter-writing.  

It requires time and willingness - to take a break, to sit down, to share thoughts and inquire about those of the recipient. 

The correspondence demands patience.

No part of the process can be rushed.

Writing a letter is rarely the most convenient way to communicate, and for that reason, it is one of the most heartfelt. 

Apart from face-to-face meeting, I can think of no other manner of interaction that relays such intentionality and care.

I have a goal to make my conversations with other people more personable.
For me, this currently looks like giving up text messaging (at least for the Lenten season).
This may sound extreme for some, but in my case, the urge to text is indicative of my wanting instant gratification, a quick remedy for boredom, and the desire for immediate responses to issues that often are of little urgency at all. 

Because of the choice to do without this, it also looks like making more phone calls and allowing myself the time not only to ask quick questions with the hope of receiving a quick answer, but to have a real exchange with another person in which we hear each others' voices.
And finally, it looks like setting aside more time to  close my laptop, step outside, and write more letters. 

So here's to phone-tag, voicemails, forever stamps, and our friends at the USPS for keeping this ship sailing.  

P.S. If you want a letter in your mailbox, send me your address and it just may happen.
-L

[Screen-printed stationery, via my Etsy Shop]

Explored Unknown.

Drawing is one of my top activities.  I consider it to be somewhat a labor of love.  It is the basic framework to most anything that is considered as visual art.  The more I do it, the more I grow to appreciate it, but every so often I find myself rushing through the process to move on to the next creative layer.

Experimentation is required in drawing in order to make any sort of progress, so I learned in the rendering of my most recent project in my advanced drawing class.

The subject: weather.

In the midst of my beginning stages of experimentation I learned something about myself as an artist and visual thinker; I gravitate to the geometric form, specifically in the categories of line and space (Hard evidence of this is apparent in my sketchbook).

The idea of weather and how it plays into my geometric doodling discoveries is really what got the ball rolling.  Weather is something that is perpetually changing, therefore, change was a theme that I needed to fuse into my line drawing and mark making.

Spiral and curve.  Forms that hypnotize.  Forms that weather patterns adopt in the activity of the eye of a hurricane.  Natural disasters generally happening during a specific season.  Thus, creating concern and interest.

Goals: create a hypnotizing atmosphere, one that is dangerous yet beautiful.  In essence, explore an atmosphere of the beautifully unknown.

Seventeen Days.

Seventeen. That is how many days that I, Anna, had to make my presence known before my cousin, Lucy, decided to make her elevated entrance.

Seventeen. That is how many days my cousin, Anna, was alive before I came along and stole her thunder 
(thunder = the attention of my extended relatives).  

Over the course of the twenty years since, We have grown from cousins to friends to pen-pals to conspirators and now, to sharers of this space we intend to fill with the artistic, culinary, and literary musings that color our thoughts and conversations.

Glad you folks could stop by for a bit!