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no room for hipsters

the occupation of Ashley and Levon

(from ashley)

“…remind  yourself that you exist in a particular place, with particular weather, particular soil, particular beauty — you [don’t] have to be a resident of the generic nowhere that flows through our various screens.”             -Bill McKibben, “Change Who You Imagine You Are”

pre-painting thoughts

pre-painting thinking



Our connections to our particular places are nearly extinct.  People in locations as different as rural Southwest Virginia and Southern Arizona persist on living in the same style of home, eating the same foods, building with the same materials, shopping in the same stores, and keeping the same indoor temperature.  All of these things without regard to the region’s unique offerings, let alone the season.  Our every minutes should be flavored with the gifts and provisions of our own ecosystems and it’s natural rhythms.

unfinished flower landscape

unfinished flower landscape



This disjoint from nature is disastrous and extensive.  Living in our manufactured container-habitats, we’ve lost our sense of community, our bodies are filled with toxins, and we fail to understand the global environmental and social effects of our actions.

painting one in the collection

painting one in the collection



My latest paintings are reflections on these thoughts.  I’ve just begun work on a series of miniature flower-based-landscapes, representing the charms of particular places.  But the same house appears in each of these landscapes, ignoring site specific responses in order to cooperate with the natural world.

deciding on a house

deciding on a house



I’m just starting the project, but thought I’d share the process.


(from Levon)

We’re alone on the farm.  

I’ve been locking myself in the basement recording songs.  One moment of note, yesterday while I was downstairs in headphoneland, Ashley saved a chicken from a fox.  The sneaky devil grabbed Delila (a black orpington), and ran off in a cornfield.  Every animal on the farm shrieked as Ashley ran through the 8 foot tall corn rows following the fury of feathers and squawking.  Barehanded, she could only shake corn stalks and scream unmentionables to scare the fox.  Delila was saved, although she lost a lot of fluff. 

We may get a new cow today.  We’ll have to trade a few goats.


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