I never appreciate the sky like I do when I live in Utah. Something about the way it's always framed perfectly—not cropped in too tight, but not left too open to overwhelm—by the mountains and trees. Something about the West and the feeling of space. Something about fewer big cities and more openness. Something about vantage points and the ability to climb a mountain and feel like you're a little bit part of it all.
I finished the Book of Mormon this morning. I think Mikey has lapped me several times over, but I'm learning that as in all things, reading the Book of Mormon is not a race. And competing with your husband is only fun when it's friendly. Seconds after I read the last word I heard Ada wake up in her room across the hall. I was flooded with love for my family and especially my girl and I felt grateful to have a little person who depends on me. Her dependence (though if you ask her—and if she could answer in comprehensible words as opposed to constant jibber-jabber—she would tell you she's completely independent) ignites me desire to learn and and grow and fortify my resolve to be good and charitable and selfless. Her very existence reminds me each day that God exists and that He loves me greatly.
I'm venturing into a new place in art. I okayed the proof yesterday to reproduce one of my paintings. I had all sorts of moral battles over whether or not I should go here, reproductions often struck me as something that cheapen work. But I've come to terms with it, and have a better understanding of what reproducing a work of art allows you to do: share your art with more people. Which is never a bad thing, right? I feel good about this new journey.
|Scattered at the Time, 30" x 40"|
Email me if you are interested.