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Some days you can look at your travel adventures as a blessing or a curse. I choose blessing. Because otherwise midnight with hundreds of other tired travelers at Atlanta International would be a lot more difficult.
I finally made it to Hambidge this week for my artist residency here. I spent about 10 hours longer in the Atlanta airport than was desirable, but who needs sleep?
Sometimes I think there are two different people living in my head in regard to stuff. There is the massive-yarn-stash and weaving-tools-collecting Rebecca and there is the woman who can head out for a month-long backpacking trip with 15 total pounds of gear (plus food and water of course) and be totally happy with the items in my pack.
I have a decision to make about an upcoming residency at Hambidge. I have been saying for months that I was going to drive to Georgia as The Hambidge Center is a difficult place to be without a car. But if I'm totally honest, the real reason I wanted to drive was because I could fill my little Subaru with ALL the tools. I could bring my spinning wheel and boxes of yarn and all the drawing materials I wanted. I could bring my hot pot and a folding chair and my yoga mat and even my favorite foods. It was about the stuff.
Layers.
Time.
This place is all about unimaginable spans of time.
I am spending the month of November at Petrified Forest National Park as their artist-in-residence.
From a distance, the huge trees look very much like they fell and were cut by a chainsaw quite recently. Up close, they are miracles of color and form in stone. Because, of course, these trees have not been trees for at least 216 million years. All of their tree-ness was replaced by minerals and became hard stone so long ago—just now eroded out of their hiding place in the Chinle formation.
