My childhood home had an iconic South Minneapolis front porch. The kind that opened with a screen door serving as an entryway to the big brown wood door. Old painted windows lined the little room covered in vines. It hosted a plethora of toys and antiques and a gold leather couch. It was my sisters and neighbors playroom. It was my Barbie castle, cafe, restaurant, coffee shop, library, art studio, music venue, and you name it. It was a sauna in the summer and refrigerator in the winter. I loved it.
I have a front porch on the home I currently live it. It is an iconic North Minneapolis porch. Open on all sides, always hosting stray cats and company. I occupy it most mornings and evenings in the summer. My popasan chair and pillow are surrounded by flower pots, candle lanterns and vintage wood end tables.
It's Sunday and here I am lounging after an outdoor church service at the lake Harriet bandshell followed by a Bogarts vanilla bean buttercream doughnut.
I am accompanied by my iPad playing a Spotify summer sounds playlist, a La Croix water, sketchbook, journal, and a stack of books.
One Thousand Gifts - Voscamp
Bread & Wine - Niequist
Watercolor Methods
Understanding Impressionism
Walking in This World
And the lyric book of Audrey Assad's cd 'Heart'
Time to get to work creating a masterpiece on the pages of my sketch pad.
YOU ARE READING
Process
Não FicçãoEvery artist has their process. Every masterpiece holds it's own evolution. This is mine. The journey of creation. The stories and songs that inspire and transpire onto canvas.
