Books replete with woven words.
The tactile pleasure of making food, tasting, enough for fullness in the belly.
My first homemade sushi: not bad. The rolls were too big (I’ll try just 2/3 of the nori covered with rice next time), but pretty enough to look at. Smoked salmon, avocado, cucumber, asparagus, black sesame seeds. Some just vegetable, some with no sesame seeds. I tried one inside-out roll and discovered that the bamboo rolling mat takes forever to wash the sticky grains out of.
What is the purpose of winter?
A long breath you take
and the slow release is art
What is the purpose of art? A question I’ve been asking for a long time. An answer I look for everywhere.
F. Scott Fitzgerald loved and lost, poured it into a great novel, and still it resounds.
Hamlet tells us it “was and is, to hold, as ’twere, the / mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, / scorn her own image, and the very age and body of / the time his form and pressure.”
Denis Dutton’s ideas of art as an extension and elaboration of our nature are mightily appealing, too.
Today’s third art project: seaglass and stitchery cards.