I’m fascinated by the use of felted hair mats to clean up oil spills—how something as intimate and personal as human hair can so effectively absorb environmental damage. There’s a quiet poetry in that gesture of care and restoration.
Listening Like a Plant in St. Croix
Michael Pollan’s The Botany of Desire: A Plant’s-Eye View of the World reframes how we see the green world around us—not as passive, cultivated objects, but as active participants in shaping our desires. It’s a perspective that lingers long after the last page, especially here in St. Croix, where the land hums with quiet intelligence.
Pollan’s invitation to view plants as co-creators made me reconsider the medicinal herbs growing wild across my property. Guinea hen weed curling through the underbrush. Lemongrass swaying in the trade winds. Turmeric pushing up in my raised planters. These plants aren’t just there. They arrive, they signal, they speak—if we’re willing to listen.
What if these plants are already in conversation with us, guiding us to notice where balance is needed, where healing is overdue?
Since reading the book, I’ve begun to move more slowly through the land, letting my hands hover before touching, asking inwardly before harvesting. I’m starting to feel that these plants are not just medicine for the body, but memory-keepers, storytellers, and perhaps, old friends with lessons still unfolding.
In St. Croix, where ecological wisdom is hiding in plain sight, The Botany of Desire offers a gentle challenge: to listen more deeply, to be in relationship, not just use.
What might change if we all listened like the plants do—rooted, attentive, and open to what the land is trying to say?
Bucket List Dreams: Visiting the World’s Oldest Leather Tannery
As I begin mapping out my multi-month inspiration and learning journey through Ghana, Kenya, and Morocco next year, one vivid dream has found its way onto my bucket list: visiting the ancient Chouara Tannery in Fez, Morocco—the oldest leather tannery in the world.
This centuries-old site, with its maze of honeycomb stone vats filled with natural dyes and tanning solutions, is not just a feast for the senses—it’s a living link to craft traditions that have stood the test of time.
I hope to witness the rhythms of the tanners at work, learn about the traditional techniques passed down through generations, and explore how this knowledge can inform my own material practice. Here’s to weaving new experiences into the journey—one tannery, one thread, one story at a time.
Inspired By: A Flipbook Machine
Each morning at Sky Garden STX, I step out onto the deck of my studio and let the sounds of the island caress me. The pearly-eyed thrashers call first—raspy, relentless, full of attitude. They dart through the trees like mischief in motion. Then the doves join in, their coos low and mournful, like lullabies passed down from long ago.
I listen.
Their chorus is not just background noise. It’s an invocation. The rhythm of wings, the hush between calls, the way the birds stake hold of space with sound. It’s music. It’s memory.
The birds are teaching me to pause, to trust the silences between gestures. To let motion emerge from stillness.
I’ve started wondering: What does it look like to be guided by birds? Not as subject matter, but in process, in tempo, in spirit? I’m not sure yet. But recently I came across a flipbook machine by J.C. Fontanive, the way it cycles through images of birds in flight—over and over, rhythmic, hypnotic, alive—it mirrors what I feel on the deck each morning: movement as meditation. Repetition as revelation.
I don’t know exactly where this is going. But I do know that before I pick up any materials, I always listen first. To the wind. To the wings. To the wild logic of song.
Let’s see what unfolds.
J.C. Fontanive
Ornithology L, 2018
four-color screen print on Bristol paper, stainless steel, motor and electronics
5.25 x 4.25 x 4 inches
How to Be Fully Present
Counting rice evokes repetition, patience, devotion, and ancestral memory. It’s both meditative and meticulous—a task sometimes used to test sanity or teach discipline, but also to slow down time.
I’m obsessed
With these floral garland videos flooding my feed. Many of these plants grow in my own garden. The possibilities are endless
Krishna Reddy Viscosity Printing Demo
As I am setting up the new studio with a printmaking area, this video is providing food for thought for upcoming studio experiments.
Mark Johnson, former graduate student of Krishna Reddy’s and long-time collaborator, as he explains the viscosity printing process while printing from Reddy’s Clown Dissolving plate.
Plant Dyes and Moonlight
I’m taking notes and checking the Moon Phase calendar
MacGyver-ing Plastic Bottles Into Cordage
I am definitely going to try this, to make cord out of plastic bottles and then weave with it.
I Keep Seeing 11, 1:11, and 11:11… EVERYWHERE
Have you ever caught yourself looking at the clock at just the right moment—11:11—or noticed 1:11 appearing on receipts, phone screens, or random places? Lately, these numbers have been showing up in my daily life with such consistency that I had to stop and reflect: What am I supposed to do with this message?
Understanding the Meaning
In numerology and spiritual traditions, repeating ones—11, 1:11, and 11:11—are often seen as signs of spiritual awakening, alignment, and manifestation. They serve as reminders that our thoughts, intentions, and actions are creating our reality. But beyond their meaning, what really matters is how we respond to these signs.
As an artist, I see the world in layers—meanings hidden beneath surfaces, waiting to be uncovered. When these numbers appear, I take them as cues to turn inward, realign with my purpose, and take intentional action in my life and creative practice.
Pause and Reflect
When I see 11:11, I take a deep breath. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and ask: What am I feeling in this moment? These numbers are an invitation to step out of autopilot and check in with myself. Am I feeling aligned with my path? Am I honoring my creative spirit? Sometimes, this moment of stillness reveals exactly what I need to hear.
Refocus My Intentions
Numbers like 1:11 and 11:11 remind me that my thoughts shape my reality. If I’m caught in a spiral of doubt or worry, this is my signal to shift my mindset. Instead of asking “Why isn’t this working?” I ask, What small step can I take today to move forward? This shift in focus keeps me grounded and empowered.
Take Aligned Action
Receiving these signs means nothing if I don’t respond to them. When these numbers appear, I ask: What is one action I can take right now to honor this message? Maybe it’s picking up my sketchbook, reaching out to a friend, or simply choosing to trust myself. These numbers remind me that change happens through small, intentional choices.
Stay Open and Trust the Process
Sometimes, I don’t immediately understand why these numbers appear, and that’s okay. Not every message needs to be deciphered right away. Instead, I trust that I’m being guided, even if the path ahead isn’t fully clear. The key is to remain open—to inspiration, to possibility, to unexpected opportunities.
What’s Your Next Step?
If you’re seeing 11, 1:11, or 11:11, take it as a moment to pause, reflect, and realign. What is the universe asking you to notice? What step, no matter how small, can you take today? These numbers aren’t just signs—they are invitations to step more fully into who you are meant to be.
Have you been seeing these numbers too? How do you respond when they appear? Let’s talk about it! ✨
