what if life itself
is a creative practice?
The Practice isn't about
becoming someone new.
It's a place of gentle reorientation.
The Practice
Life in the Making
Life in the Making
The Practice isn't about
becoming someone new.
It's a place of gentle reorientation.
A return to conversation
with yourself,
with others,
awith the living world.
no line between art and life
no line between art and life
A return to conversation
with yourself
with others
with the living world.
they longed for more color,
more play, more curiosity,
more meaning in their lives —
the part of themselves
that had simply grown quiet.
who weren’t trying to become artists
they simply wanted to
feel more alive
where art and life meet
where art and life meet
exists to
change that
in the making
at the table
feel the
tug to make
linger with
ideas
The Practice
These are the ways we live artfully—where life and making are one
in the making
at the table
these are the ways we live artfully—where life and making are one
These are the ways we live artfully—where life and making are one
The Practice
a place for experimentation,
play and renewal
a place for conversation,
stories and reflection
maybe you
or maybe you're drawn to
what captures you here?
just begin
see what
unfolds
Whether you want to explore through making, learning, or playful experimentation,
each door opens into a space where curiosity, creativity,
and growth meet.
Let's see what becomes possible when we pay attention together.
feel the
tug to make
linger with ideas
see what
unfolds
just
begin
Whether you want to explore through making,
learning, or playful experimentation,
each one offers a space where curiosity,
creativity, and growth meet.
These are the ways we live artfully—
where life and making are one
in the making
workshops
studio practices
retreats
creative practices you can enter anytime—learn, play, and make
in your own time
notes from the studio
Curious about future
opportunities?
tell us your
interests
Dreaming of immersive creative retreats? Share your interest and be the first to hear
~ a playful practice
a place for experimentation,
play and renewal
in the making
studio practices
begin with
what's at hand
workshops
retreats
studio practices
discover what's in the works
play with this
visit Colinas Baixas
for a look at what’s been taking shape here
about what it means to begin without a plan
often the first step isn't action at all but
a silence
a pause
a moment when the idea takes flight
A renovation project in rural Portugal became something more—
a study in attention, persistence, making, and beginning again.
A practice of learning by doing,
beginning before I felt ready,
and staying with a thing long enough to be changed by it
where art meets life
A renovation project in
rural Portugal became something more—
a study in attention, persistence, making, and beginning again.
A practice of learning
by doing,
beginning before
I felt ready,
and staying with a thing
long enough to be
changed by it.
about what it means to begin without a plan
often the first step isn't action at all but
a silence
a pause
a moment when the idea takes flight
where art meets life
for a look at what’s been
taking shape here
a place to explore
the work
A place for conversation,
stories and reflection
read what I’m
noticing lately
A podcast about art, life, and living with intention
(in the works)
online gallery
studio visits
field notes
the grove
~ a noticing practice
at the table
Lately, I've been thinking
online gallery
field notes
studio visits
collage club
It's about living in conversation with life.
Not analyzing it.
Not rushing through it collecting achievements.
But remaining in conversation
With paint
With land
With aging
With friendship
With grief
With delight
With other people
With yourself
Art isn't the destination.
Aliveness is.
Come practice being awake to your own life.
the practice
It's about living in conversation with life.
Not analyzing it.
Not rushing through it collecting achievements.
But remaining in conversation.
With paint
With land
With aging
With friendship
With grief
With delight
With other people
With yourself
art isn't the destination.
aliveness is.
come practice being awake to your own life.
where art and life meet—there’s no line.
where art and life meet—there’s no line.
collage club
collect, create,
reflect
the grove
step inside studio
conversations, videos, and works in progress
play with this
discover what's in the works
I don’t wait for permission to live playfully
I choose curiosity, play, and attention
My life feeds my making—its questions, transitions, small rhythms
When I don’t know what to do, I begin anyway
I make fresh starts. Often
I make messes on the way to meaning
I feel most alive when I am making
I trust that creativity is something I can grow into
these are the ways I’m learning to be
in the studio and, more and more, in my life
you could call them studio practices
but really, they’re ways of living
these are the ways we live artfully—where life and making are one
A little lately
I’ve learned to follow time by the fig tree at the edge of our garden.
I can hardly wait for September to tuck me in among her weighted branches. Bold sunlight warming my back, I gather hands-full of her plump sun-warmed fruit nearly bursting in their readiness.
I eat them right there, their skins yielding to my fingers, the white ooze beading at the stem. Her sweet red flesh, her juice on my hands. I lick each sticky finger. Gather all I can fit in my cupped hands, the turned up hem of my shirt, now and then spilling one in among the dried grasses when they overflow. I won’t leave it.
For a few weeks there seems to be no end to them. Every morning, sun now on her leaves, I stretch as far as I can reach, lightly pressing each fig. Is it ready?
I bring my gathering into the kitchen. Figs for breakfast, fig pizza, fig jam burbling on the stove. The tree gives and gives.
As October arrives, the tree grows quiet. Birds sing in her branches. I breathe in her rich, earthy mingling of drying fruit, leaves and grasses.
I slip in under low branches where the slant of sun touches my arms and linger there among faded leaves and fallen figs, gazing up at the highest remaining ones out of my reach.