I was flipping through older sketchbooks and realized that I haven't been sketching my tea things lately, and that's always such a short cut to happiness. So I'm going to try to get back on that bandwagon a bit more for 2026. Here's the first one. The cup/saucer/creamer are handpainted Scottish stoneware. This was our everyday dish set growing up since my mom graduated from the University of Edinburgh and loved all things Scotland. Two successive stepmothers liked this dishware less, and we didn't use it for ages. Now it's happily in use at the family farm, but I found these tea things at antique malls for my personal use and happiness. They're paired with a Shearwater pottery teapot from Ocean Springs for even more personal happiness. I sketched in a blue Inktense pencil and put watercolor on top.

Memphis is sleeted in, but ohmygosh so much better than being iced in the way Nashville and Oxford and a whole belt of Mississippi are. We missed the damaging ice by about 7 miles, and I'm absurdly grateful and then a little guilty for being that grateful, but I'm here and warm and mostly home. I've been doing more print work than sketching lately, and I've got a house guest who had the bad luck to choose this stretch of time to visit, so I'm just doing less art than I might be anyway. But Monday I sat in my print shop and sketched the snow shadows outside the French doors, and then I sketched a super small/quick one from my kitchen island. I'm also posting, on the general theme of "home," a recent sketch of my stepmom in her wing chair. I love having my parents right in the neighborhood.

I also sketched in line at the grocery store before the snow hit. Fresh Market usually has little to no line, but leading up to the storm Memphis was stocking up. I had had a conversation with a new artist friend about reaching for a sketchbook instead of a phone, and I'm trying to do more of that. The constant struggle.

I’ve been choosing a word of the year and making annual art goals ever since beginning to listen to the #AmWriting podcast. They talk about goals you control (finishing a book, submitting to an art residency) instead of goals you don’t (getting a book published, receiving an art residency). Usually I have a pretty strong list for myself, but this year I am in month two of an eight month physical therapy program for POTS, which seems to be more and more associated with long covid. I am gradually feeling better, but my biggest goal for the year is to stick with the PT, the morning POTS routine (very slow starts), and other modifications that are making me feel better. The image in my mind is kintsugi, the Japanese form of mending pottery with visible cracks enhanced by gold or silver. The idea is that “whole” does not mean the same as “just like you were before.” You wear the cracks while becoming functional again in spite of them and with a different beauty. I don’t expect to get back to my pre-long covid self at this point three years later, but I am hoping for better functionality and ultimately more hours to use for my art again as I become better able to tolerate being upright again.

So “mend” is to remind me of that goal, to remind me that it’s ok to take the time I need to reach it, and that even reaching it will not mean I’m back to normal necessarily (though, man, that would be welcome). But it also has wider implications. I love to buy clothes at the thrift store and mend them to make them functional again. I love the visible mending trend that makes those mends a thing of beauty instead of invisibility. And I love the wholesale rejection of fast fashion in favor of reuse and environmental sustainability. Even larger, I hope we can begin to mend our country by reaching out with kindness to other people and beginning to knit those cracks together, but also by mending the places where the ideals it was founded on have gone astray. That’s a lot of work for one small word to do, but I am starting the year in hope for all of these things.

As always, I process things primarily through art, so I took this snow day to use one of my more recent wood font acquisitions (another second-hand passion) to do a small print on studio scraps to remind myself.

Memphis got insanely lucky this weekend, missing a dire ice storm by a matter of miles. We're still pretty sleeted and iced in at home, but the city kept power, and I am grateful. I took advantage of a quiet morning to print this new cat block that I carved a little while ago. I'm very dog focused, and Henry is my main muse, but I decided it was time to reach out to the cat folks a little. This is Gracie, my partner's cat, from a photo he sent me that felt utterly charming. Once these are dry I'll sign them and maybe add my small red chop with my carved initials, but I'll play with it on newsprint and make sure I like the placement before making a final decision.

In dog news, Henry and I clumped across the road to an open lot/informal neighborhood park and let him run around a little.

I had a conversation this week with a new artist friend about how sketching always makes me happier than looking mindlessly at my phone, and it renewed my focus on pulling out the tiny purse sketchbook I (almost) always have with me in those small spaces during the day. I did the top sketch during a stop by the Metal Museum to see their new show and pick up enamel tiles from a workshop I did last year. I love the old bridge that we're slated to lose at some point to something more modern, so I took a minute to sketch it with a simple fountain pen. I treated myself to a new not-too-fancy-but-fancier-than-my-Lamy Pelikan late last year, and I'm really enjoying using it. I grabbed it again waiting in line at Target the other day and added a little red Windsor & Newton watercolor marker (I love their juicy colors). Clearly I closed it a little fast as I got to the front of the line, but it was fun to do in that couple of minutes of waiting instead of reaching for my phone. Here's hoping I can keep going on this streak.

Shapeshifter Art School opens this week offering continuing education art classes to Memphis, filling a void that badly needed some help. I'm so excited about the quality of the teachers, the interesting range of classes, and the gorgeous building it's all housed in. Elizabeth Alley, who founded our Memphis Urban Sketchers chapter, is one of the five artists who also founded the art school. She got the urban sketchers in early to have our monthly meeting and sketch the school. I was completely bewitched by this funhouse mirror door frame. the reflections and light were fascinating, even if the sketch got busy trying to capture all that. And I always enjoy a chance to sneak in a self portrait, this time in brand new thrift store jeans with a great bootleg flare.

I was finished ahead of time, so as well as chatting with friends I pulled out my small purse sketchbook and did one tiny corner with a Nicole Ritchie sculpture by a window.

Afterwards Christina and I caught up over Farmburger at Crosstown. Their holiday lights are still up through the dark part of the winter, and I did a super fast sketch with my gamboge W&N watercolor marker (one of my favorite tools) and a little bit of fountain pen after. It was a great day out, and I've been enjoying being out of the house more this week. It's nice to mark the good days in my sketchbook to remember later.

I gave myself an art day out today after turning in the cover art for Memphis Magazine's February issue a couple of days ago. I know artists who are disciplined in their work hours and days, but I am not one of them. I work through a lot of weekend time but give myself days off while everyone else is at work (which is the nicest time to take them except for seeing friends who are off work on weekends). Also my time off is muddy anyway, as non artist friends have pointed out to me, since sketching is often part of a day out for me.

Elizabeth Alley was talking at Dixon on her art residency in the arctic circle, which was fascinating. I love the noon Wednesday lecture series because it gets it on my calendar to take a museum day. And I love vicarious travel and artists talking about their craft. A perfect excuse to get out. And it was great. I chose paradise blue ink to do some of the sketching in because it felt as appropriate for the chill of the subject matter as it does for the blue of the Caribbean. That was the one I spent the most time on, but then she got to her slide of a polar bear track, and I grabbed my tiny purse sketchbook to record that.

It's 70 degrees today and gorgeous, so after walking through the printmaking exhibit again I ordered a peach tea latte and a blueberry muffin to take out into the gardens. Day out indeed. The drink making is delicious but a little slow, so I sat down to wait and sketched the croissant in the case while I waited. That's my gamboge Windsor and Newton watercolor marker as color. I love their juicy, saturated markers.

Sitting outside at Dixon feels a tiny bit like Paris. There are tables behind rows of  pruned trees and boxwood hedges with a view through to a Rodin statue. It always makes me think of the sculpture garden at the Rodin museum just a little, and it's a happy place for me. Sometime I'll sketch that view, but Elizabeth's talk about drawing patterns on her trip stuck with me, and when I looked down at the table base, I drew that instead. I did a whole series of sketches of my black boots when I was traveling in Paris, so again it felt like a small flashback to good times. It was a truly excellent day out.

I often try to do a very quick sketch on happy occasions just to have something to flip over later in my sketchbook/journal/carnet de voyage (travel book in French, but that phrase has the tang of adventure that I love). I fall back into that day and place when I come across such a sketch. So I did a super fast little pen/wash/marker sketch in the small sketchbook I keep in my purse while I was sitting in the sunshine sharing pastries from Lucy J's bakery with my dad. A good day.

It's been a sunny and unusually warm start to the year, and I'm taking advantage with some sketching walks in the old forest. It feels good to get out, let Henry explore a bit, and enjoy a place I love so much. This first is Diamine Golden Brown ink with watercolor. I've done a couple of different graphic essays with those materials, but I recently refilled a pen that had dried up, and I'm planning to use it more. The ink is dark enough to show a line but light enough to meld with the paint without making a muddy mess. Really perfect.

I did a super quick one New Year's Eve. It was late in the afternoon, and I mostly just painted the sunshine itself. The sun and owls and a feel good day for me felt like a good omen for the coming year. One of those moments I wanted to memorialize for later in my sketchbook.

Here are a couple of older ones, one complete with a few raindrops as I was finishing. That's the Diamine Ancient Copper ink again, and the last one is Inktense pencils with watercolor on top.

2025 was a super hard year for me personally as well as for a lot of folks in the broader world sense. Six is my favorite number, and I'm more than usually happy to turn the page. I felt good this week and did a little stand up printshop work for the first time in a while and just made myself a small marker for the new year. It's so fun to have wood type to play with when I get an idea. I'm glad I downsized my print shop this past year, but I'm equally grateful for all the beautiful type that has come my way over the years, especially from my mentor Cheryl, who gave me both of these fonts. I've got another small letterpress project lined up for when I feel good standing again, and I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, I'm taking sketching walks in the forest and working on a new commission for Memphis Magazine, which thrills me.