The Birth of Feeling: L'Art Prout.

Work book slice from La Have Islands; July 2011.

These days when I do sit to work at my table, it is always stencil based. My old ink and worn fountain pens are partly to blame, but it is also all I know to do these days. One track mind. I bust out the vellum today and just zipped through with my xacto knife. Tracing paper is imperative at my work station, regardless of the medium in focus. For spray paint I use Krylon indoor/outdoor in flat noir. Spray adhesive is also imperative.

* written in the middle of June, 2011.

Back on drawing, some painting, usually letter-based. Telling. I have always felt comfortable lettering. I get that from my mother, whose block letters were to die for. She would write the titles of block lettered school projects and I would color them in. Thanks for that mom, it is who I am. Also

Double exposure art. Freehand ink on cardstock underlay, ink on tracing paper top. May/ June 2011.

Art fart. Leo's 12 year old cousin Florence taught me that Prout en fracais, means FART in english. Good to know. While on my east coast journey, I spent many a portion of time with my coiled work book. Letters, weird faces of Dave Bancroft (an 86 year old man whom Simon and I met en route) as well as Lisa Bell (never actually met the woman, but made a drawing as Geof wove her story). There was so much of that at Fool's Cove (Simon's beach homebase on Bell Island), stories and expression. Whatever the modus operandi, the medium was up to mood and moon. I wrote a lot, drew, wrote letters, painted idly at the kitchen table while there was a party happening in the next rooom. I felt comfortable to take leave there, take off for a bit. Plenty of time to walk slowly, to stop and really smell.

One day, Simon and I were walking around. I realized I hadn't collected any flowers or leaves, so we did. That day we walked to the tip of the island to sit in our own spaces in a graveyard on the side of a grassy hill. It was tended, there were stumps. The ocean smashing its way with the moon. The water was incredible, it took my breath away each time I looked out. The fog, dancing silkily over and out, and back in again. Sea kayaks spinning like dials in the bay, waiting their turn.