Monday 7/6/26 Monday 7/6/26

THE STRUGGLE OF FINDING BEAUTY

I’ve decided to unlearn Instagram. It’s been the only way i’ve shared my work over the last ten years, and I haven’t figured out how to go forward yet. But I do know that it’s taken my passion of being an artist away from me. I feel crippled and confused, I just don’t find anything beautiful anymore. It’s robbed me of my imagination, the one thing that kept me going in my own beautiful fantasy since I was a small child. When my life was filled with hardship, I always had my beautiful brain to reach into. It would take me to a beautiful exotic place I’ve never seen before, and then I would search and search just to find a way to get there. That’s what kept me going. In the beginning Instagram was just that, a beautiful far away land you’ve never seen before. And you’d see a glimpse of a distant enormous mountain, a rare bird you never knew existed, a primitive people making their beautiful craft somewhere. And it made you dream. Dream of all the unknown places and people.

But greed is a tale as old as time. It soon took over. The greed for attention. Greed for vanity. Greed for popularity. Greed for more, and more, and more. And now we find ourselves empty and exploited, scrolling to no end and not finding anything beautiful anymore as we unfold a slow decay of our creativity and wonder. As an artist, this is the dilemma of my lifetime. I can’t make art because I can’t find anyting beautiful. And when I sit down and make something, instagram shows me hundreds of people who make it much better. I’ve never had an ego, but any triumph as an artist has been so discouraged, I don’t think Im good at any of my art anymore. I know I’m not the only one. All my talented friends gave up on their art, closed their shops, disappeared. Live some basic existence just barely surviving.

See, the thing is that we were never supposed to see this much. We were never supposed to compare ourselves to the whole world. We were only supposed to be confined to our beautiful small community, town or city. Maybe if you were a famous artist, to your country, but not the world. We were only supposed to compare ourselves to that one pretty girl in high school, or that small group of popular guys, or that one sculptor in art school, or that one family down the street that just got the nicer car, or had an extra bedroom or got to go on vacation to Disneyland. We weren’t supposed to compare ourselves to the socioeconomic class we didn’t grow up in, celebrities, artist across the globe who can survive on a hundredth of our salary, the trust fund kids running cool businesses with such ease, stay at home wives with enough extra money they don’t know what to do with. We were only supposed to see who and what was close to us.

(I used to look out the window and dream)

We weren’t supposed to see that far away national park we’ve always wanted to go to, that we heard about, or seen on a post card, a billion times. We weren’t supposed to see that beautiful painting a billion times. We weren’t supposed to see a billion good looking models eveyday. We weren’t supposed to see peoples fancy lives and vacations a billion times a day. It’s left us confused about our own purpose. It took away our own beautiful imagination. Nothing is rare anymore, nothing is unseen, the beauty and charm has faded. Where are we to look for beauty now? Is there any left?

I don’t want to stop caring, imagining, or giving up on my dreams.But I need people that care with me, so we can lift each other from this lifeless soul-less state we are all sleeping in right now.

(I used to hunt for petroglyphs. I want to all those things again. I want my magic back)

(packed to the gills. traveled hundreds of thousands of miles)

Monday 6/9/25 Monday 6/9/25

BOHEMIAN BEGINNINGS OF WILD MONDAY

2016. It all began on a breezy hot summer night. Ive been making jewelry for a few years already and finished up my apprenticeship with a world renowned filigree master, Majdi, from Syria. He made the most beautiful gold scabbards for swords. All of my pieces in the beginning were in the ancient art of filigree

I would spend nights working at my bench, with a lamp, a candle, and some good old music. My kids were babies and summers were magical because they would stay up all night and play and I would work at my bench. We lived in an old industrial loft, across the street from a meat factory, it was old and beautiful. Money was scarce. I was a young single mom and to get through the days I would dream of running away somewhere beautiful. Somewhere that would give me freedom to not work like a slave all day. Somewhere where my babies can run barefoot amongst animals. I sold some of my things, found an old rv one day and decided to travel and live in it every summer, all summer. Sometimes we would hit the road with only a few hundred dollars, being broke never stopped me from chasing my dreams.

To go out into the unknown, to find magical treasures by the roadside in sleepy dusty towns. I was determined to find the most beautiful turquoise stones and ancient beads, and I would have the whole winter to give them new lives by making beautiful jewelry. I mostly worked with turquoise then, and some opals when I could find them. Scraps of silver were the only metal I could afford. Sometimes Id sell some of my things, so I could buy more silver. I always knew I wanted my jewelry to be magical, to sing songs of past lives.

Every bead and stone I ever worked with, I picked with my hands from a special person or place I visited driving in that rv. Sometimes we would stay in yurts, teepees and places that grow wild and sing of freedom. For me it was always about freedom, about purity, about the earth. About living a simple but colorful life filled with hardship and beauty at the same time. I want to share those bohemian stories of wanderlust of my life, through the jewelry that I make, the photos I take, the things I collect.

Our magical yurt on a mountain where only cattle graze at times. You won’t run into a soul here and the nighttime stars are amazing.

Some of the first filigree earrings I made with beautiful green turquoise stones.

The sleepy roadside towns that look forgotten but are filled with life, hard work, goodness, respect for thy neighbor. Ive always been good to people. And people in these parts were always good to me. We lived with a Mormon family for awhile in their spare bedroom when I was out of money. We’ve been fed by people in small roadside motels. I felt more included in these dusty towns, than in big cities where I had people that called themselves my friends. I felt like I was somebody here.

Ive always wanted a little store just like this one. So I can pack it full with hand collected items across time. These are always my favorite stops. The people always honest and always treat me well.

Come get your “museum quality” rocks here.

I love rocks!!!!!!!! Roadside rocks especially.

Home of the HO made pies. I love old diners, no better feeling than a scalding hot cup of coffee spilling over the edges of a yellowed mug at an old diner. After driving all day, it tastes like such a luxury.

Goodness what a beaut. Can you imagine buying a pail of apples out of the back, freshly collected from the local orchard?

My little wild angel that was raised on the road.

The wild pack.

Some pieces from my very first collection. Each little wire I put in one by one on long sleepless nights. And when we lived with a Navajo family in their teepee for awhile. It was pure magic.