Squared

What does it mean to be obsessed with squares?

I'm under the impression that it is not a good thing.  What kind of artist loves squares?!?  We're not supposed to like being hemmed in my any silly little shape, right.

I've worked within the square format for almost two years now.  No end in sight.

Highest Standards, 6 x 6" collage on board ©2012 Kim Hambric

This is my idea of free form - above.

This is my idea of total chaos - below.

Silent, 8 x 8" collage on board, ©2011 Kim Hambric

Yes, I know it is still contained in a square, but I don't think I could get any wilder than this.  Good heavens, the asymmetry!!

And now, I find I even prefer squares within my squares.

Destination, 12 x 12 collage on board, ©2012 Kim Hambric

Could I possibly do squares within squares within squares?

I feel the need to experiment with that.

No Photo. Just a Memory

Sometimes I cry about what seem to be the silliest things.  Today I wanted to show my favorite photo from my trip to Charleston, SC.  But it’s gone.  For me, this photo says (said) so much about me and the way I see life (and my teeny part in it).  Amazing how something can so easily disappear.  And amazing that I am so easily brought to tears.

The photo was taken through my hotel window, five stories up, of a little plant that had grown in the windowsill.  I noticed it on the morning of our second day.  It was cool and breezy and the little plant swayed and bobbed.  It looked to be some kind of fern.  Something tropical and unknown to me.  Obviously, no one on the hotel staff had seen this plant or it would have been unceremoniously removed.  Likely, I was the first and only to see this little out of place plant.  I felt an instant kinship.

How can this little fern thrive here, I wondered.  There could only be a miniscule amount of dirt and moisture in that crack in the wood.    It couldn’t possibly know nor care that thousands and thousands of its kind were flourishing five stories down and in garden after garden until the land meets the water.  No one has ever read this plant the adage “bloom where you are planted.”  It is not telling itself that it has overcome all kinds of obstacles.  It is only the result of a wind-blown spore meeting a tiny crack.  It doesn’t yearn to live among the other plants down on the warm ground, protected from the wind.  It just is.  Or was.  Chances are just as likely that it is gone as it is that it is thriving and doubling in size every week.

I suppose I am obsessing about this little plant (and with the city itself).  The suggestion to return to Charleston and room 528 of the Hampton Inn would be met with an immediate packing of toiletries in small bottles into quart-sized baggies.  Yes, I would be greatly disappointed to find the plant dead or removed.  At least I would be back in that city.  Among other artists, warm-weather lovers and intoxicatingly fragranced vines (five stories down and until the city meets the water).  This time, however, I would quickly grow roots so I could not be unceremoniously removed.

Places People Go

Places People Visit, 5x5" collage on board, ©2011 Kim Hambric

We spent a long Easter weekend in Charleston, SC.  I have been feeling the NEED for a southern city for a long time now.  As soon as I saw my first Palm tree (or was that a Palmetto) something inside of me shifted and I felt right with the world.  It very seldom happens that I feel right with the world, so I decided to enjoy that feeling as long as possible.

I did take some photos, but since I used my iPhone instead of my "old" camera, I am unable to post them yet.  I do not know how to get them from there to here.   I'm SO embarrassed to admit this.

It was an eating vacation, as most of our vacations are.  When presented with good restaurants we go weak in the knees.  And then we go in.  And eat.  And when a quaint little street strings together coffee, gelato and croissant shops, we don't discuss or negotiate, we just go into all of them.

In just a very short time, we discovered our place -- Kudu coffee and beer.  One can visit in the morning, when it is chilly and get a latte and read a magazine.  Then, one can return in the afternoon for another coffee.  Then one can return before dinner and get a beer sample and chill out in the beautiful courtyard while gazing at crumb-dining birds and gentle decay.

I am easily enamored with places where I can say hello to someone and get a hello in return instead of a frightened or sour look, and where a three-foot-square plot of land can be turned into a stunning garden.

When can I go back?!?