>>>>Jane Through The Seasons

See my new favorite pants! I discovered it in my closet a few weeks ago with the tag still attached. It's a hundred percent silk and a thousand percent comfortable.  She told me (the seller, of the lace top that is) that the blouse was handmade by her grandmother back when she was a young lady! The necklace and earrings I got from two cool handmade jewelry shops on Etsy.  Royal blue and tan earrings - Local Color  Multicolored necklace - Goodrun   Bracelet - Mawusi Lace top - The Gilded Arrow Silk pants (btw they are long and straight. I hold them like so with a hair band) - Club Monaco Canvas Shoes - T.JMaxx  Have a beautiful last day in August and a wonderful weekend! -J

Abstract art, I love. There is so much about it I do not understand which is the major essence of my attraction to the medium.  It is always something new. A work that lives and breathes. It holds the past, the minutes of the day and all the tomorrows that will be or never be. The ability to sense a depth without the ability to measure or grasp it fully, ever. This feeling came upon me when I first saw Eden Some's black and white ink wash paintings and drawings, and remained with me. "I was born somewhere unknown, a fishy village next to the sea in Guangdong Province, China...I'm the youngest one of 4 boys in the family."* So reads the beginnings of Some's biography on the about page of his Etsy shop, Manjuzaka; a play on the Sanskrit word Manjusaka which, according to him, means "the flowers of paradise." The narration of his life and how his art came about is an aspect to a question I have been toying with: is art learned or is it a sort of

via Are you thinking of Simon and Garfunkel's song? I do, too, when I hear the phrase "the sound of silence." However, it is not to that which I refer. It is to the literal meaning of the phrase that I find interesting. I hold the belief that no one who is capable of hearing has ever heard silence.  Whenever one refers to silence, one often means the lack of human communication, or some such sounds. In a sense, it is identical to being alone. Literally, no one is ever alone as long as they continue to share this world with others. Hence there is never silence when nature  and man-made things remain loquacious. Even the floors creak. So it is with silence. Even when all is quite, the wind might whistle,  leaves rustle, cars zoom, the rain pitter-patters.  For example, it is now 11:26 PM in Queens, New York, as I write this. Everybody in my home is asleep but me. The fan overhead is squeaking gently. I just heard a door close somewhere. The very annoying neighbor o

When Thursdays roll out, I feel like I come here on shy legs, trembling in their walk of shame. I want to say I was good and went out this week. Saw people. Hanged out. Was social till I felt a buzz not unlike that which only floats in pure bliss. Or that I just went out on my own and did my thing-thang-thing. That I finally did the one thing I have been meaning to do all summer long: go lie down on my big red blanket in Sheep Meadow, Central Park; with huge sunglasses to count clouds or pretend to count clouds as I puff out Zzzs. And here comes that awful 'but' with its hands possessively wrapped around a contradiction...all I did was stay home in my pjs and crochet like heck! Yesterday, I did manage to go for a walk...only so I can pick up a box from namrA's in which I hope to ship what I have been making. I believe that when I come here next week, I will be narrating a different story. No buts! via Happy Thursday! -J

via Losing my Best Friend to Marriage                        After Mrs. Dalloway We were sisters in light of youth’s desires. Until marriage, the clown of sorts sliced us apart. I played Sally to her Clarissa airs and Conspired to be free of whining brats.  We read Dante in daring melodies.  Refused hats on Long walks, and Ran in wind-filled corset-less gowns Of  rebellion. Her Peter always present, With love filled eyes promising wedded bliss. Then came the day of Richard, with his roses And his courtly ways to lure my friend away. She took her trunks and bought whale bones, Had parties to slay yawns and trade gossip, So I went in search of a duke to love. - Jane Odartey

A little about yourself My name is Jacqueline “not Jackie” Crowther.* I’ve lived in or around Atlanta most of my life, but I was born in Chicago, which will always be home. Growing up with a heightened sense of place, I’ve noticed that where I’m from has been the most fundamental factor in shaping my behavior, mood and how I see the world. I owe a large part of my affable but direct personality to the city of broad shoulders , which is why I’m not ashamed of my own.   However, as I’ve gotten older, each new place I’ve called home has also shaped where I’m coming from; adding new perspective and an impetus for engaging with the world. Even the places I’ve simply passed through have left an impression; inciting a curiosity that a degree in Urban Policy, Planning and Economic Development couldn’t sate. What is your craft story? In the years after graduating, I became increasingly disenchanted with the career I worked for in college. As a result, I found myself spendi