It was love at first sight when meeting Sally Loo!

And this is Sally Loo!
Sally Loo and her owners, Jen & Brandon Manuele bought the old Café Luna, in the eclectic Railroad District of San Luis Obispo. Like Sally Loo, Jen & Brandon have been working like dogs transforming the place into the coolest hangout in town! And of course, the new name of their place is SALLY LOO'S CAFE!

That's Jen & Brandon Manuele. Jen & Brandon are amazing photographers and after checking out their website and Blog, it was clear to me that they were energetic, creative, hip folks who were accustomed to creating beautiful and spirited things. So when they asked me to hang my artwork on their café walls, my immediate response was heck YES! On Monday of this week I hung 9 artworks from my When Animals Dream series. Their sea foam colored walls were waiting for me as the the perfect back drop for my work. It was as if we had meticulously coordinated the colors in advance, which we did not!

With family, friends, and repair technicians all putting in some cheerful sweat, the crew is in the final prep days of hanging shelves, organizing the kitchen, planting flowers in the front flower boxes, training staff, and hopefully getting a day of rest before opening on May 7th! Meanwhile, the café regulars in their neighborhood drop by to check on their progress, awaiting a good latte and some of Jen’s famous cooking! As you can see, these are the "before" photos. I'll post some "after-reveal" photos when they are up and running!

When you visit them, be sure to also check out the showroom next door, featuring their stunning photography. But give them a couple weeks for the dust to settle in the cafe before the showroom is up and running!

























When I was snapping up these photos, Jen couldn't help herself and took a couple too. This is me on the couch in front of Flying Swan & Koi Around.




See you at Sally Loo's!

Encaustic Workshop

I'm teaching my Encaustic Workshop this weekend. My good friend and fabulous photographer, Sara Heinrichs was present for my February workshop and made a really cool slideshow. It's posted on the Encaustic Workshop page of my website. Turn up your speakers because it's set to music. I haven't figured out how to put slideshows on this blog yet so here are a few stills that Sara took.


At each workshop, we make a group piece which is sold at one of my shows for charity. Below is a student working on our group piece.

A Walk to the Old Oak

Two days ago, I got a notion to finally walk to the big oak tree on the other side of the gully. It is a tree that I look at all the time from my studio office and yet, I had never walked to it. I am looking at it now as I type, just 1:00 off my monitor. Two winters ago, a large limb broke in a wind storm and ever since then, the broken limb looked like a big dear was lying beside it, eating from its base. (Can you see it in the photo below?) I thought for the longest time that the tree was on our property but just recently learned that it is a few feet off the property line. I get to look at it never-the-less.

This year we have barley growing and it’s at knee level. I walked out into the field towards the oak and the only thing I could think of was “I hope I don’t encounter a snake!” I am so scarred of snakes! Each step I took was like something out of a suspense thriller. You know, scared of what might be larking even though there are no signs of anything wrong. Maybe it was the fear of snakes but it may have also been the weird sensation of walking and not being able to see my feet. I had to completely trust what I was feeling. I walked gently with mindfulness, allowing all creatures to slither away as I trod near.

Walking with mindfulness allowed me to notice all the ladybugs! There was a ladybug in front of me every two steps! How many must there have been in that barley field?! I got half way from the house, turned around, and it felt like I had left the planet. Like outer space, I was someplace I look at every day but had never been.

Upon arriving at the Oak, I felt another sense of place. The old growth was distinctly outside of the planted area and the brown weeds were standing in peaceful defiance like aliens.

My walk to the Old Oak marks a similar path that I hope to take more often; revealing a closer look at what is right in front of us....simple journeys and introductions to people, homes, and little known spaces....exploring the humble, beautiful, ugly, resourceful, creative, and unique. Come with me.

Radishes with Salt

When we were kids, we had a swimming pool that Dad would set up each summer in the far corner of the yard. It was only 18 inches high or so, but it felt plenty deep, especially when we lay on our stomachs, arched our backs and floated in the cool water. When we were in the pool, it meant that it was really summer and anything was possible.

When summer was over, the pool would be dismantled and put in the garage. In its place each fall was left a circular patch cut out of the lawn like a cookie cutter. In the patch were dead weeds, mud and lots of worms.

A few years went by, 18 inches of water just wasn’t deep enough, and Dad stopped putting up the pool. I don’t remember missing it.

Dad kept the circular grass lawn cut out and turned it into a garden. He grew corn that was small and often full of holes. He grew baby carrots and I think beans. He grew lettuce that I was never quite fond of because it was bitter. The lettuce grew very well. In my opinion, we had too much of it. Dad would tend the garden each night after work, in his shorts, squatting down, pulling weeds and putting salad fixings in a colander for dinner. Each year he would enlarge the circle a little bigger to accommodate more plants.

But I will always remember the lovely radishes.
One early evening when my grandparents were visiting and admiring the garden, I pulled a beautiful red radish. Up to that point, radishes were more beautiful than tasty. My grandmother explained that they tasted best with salt. I just remember washing off that radish and bringing the salt shaker outside into the garden.

Now my radishes come from the produce department at Trader Joes, tied in muddy bunches with big blue twisties. I take them home, snip off the leaves, wash them in a colander, and of course enjoy them with salt.

Now I miss the pool and long for 18 inches of water.

Fearing the Brush

When I'm in the studio, I usually run quickly with a creative idea. I fearlessly mix medias, explore different ideas, and nothing is off limits. I work small. I work big. I work bigger than me.
But there comes a time when I need to put the brush in my hand, dip it in pigment, and paint.

It is this moment that I freeze in terror like a deer in the headlights. What gives me the authority to paint? What makes me a painter? At this point, I jump and block out the voices, shrugging them off at every turn. Keep going I say! Keep going!

My Escapade with Uncle Dale

A few years ago, Uncle Dale took me to his cabin at the 80 acres for the first time, a piece of property that he owns, deep on the Central Coast. -Just him and me. Since there had been so many family stories that took place at “The 80 Acres” I considered it to be a somewhat mythical place. I considered going there to be a part of an initiation into my husband’s family.

We took his old truck but I drove. It took about an hour to reach the outskirts of the property and it was going to be another hour to get to the cabin itself. It is very hard to get to and there are no real roads, as we know it, leading to the cabin. That last hour was especially beautiful with Uncle Dale pointing out all the special rock formations, trees that had fallen, and special haunts. The trek also required going through several locked gates and parcels of private property of which I trusted he had special permission to drive through. The road got progressively rough and non existent as we crept up the mountains and the truck’s tires trudged over huge boulders. It was something out of a Jeep commercial! All along, we smelled something funny coming from the truck but there was no malfunction that we could detect. Finally we reached his cabin, spent the day, and that is for another photo story.

In the late afternoon, we set out to leave. In first gear all the way down the rocky mountain I drove. At the base of the outlining properties, we found what looked to be the road at last. With another 90 minutes remaining to get home, I realized I had no brakes and we now knew what that funny smell was. Now when it comes to cars, I am a complete idiot and refer to the male species for all my mechanical needs. Deferring 100% to Uncle Dale’s then 85 years of experience, I asked him if we should stop or keep going. He did not give me a confident answer but inferred that I should keep going even though it meant driving through anything that might cross our path! When we got within cell phone coverage, I called my husband. He too gave me no confidence but thought that by continuing to drive, the brakes might cool down, and come back. At this point I felt like my adventure was just beginning but alas, I drove slowly, coasting through stop signals and eventually onto the freeway! Crazy woman I’m thinking! Uncle Dale and I did not speak very much during this leg of the trip. I imagine it’s this kind of non-verbal communication that you have with a fellow passenger when you’ve just been told your plane is going to crash. Sure enough, after driving another 40 minutes down the freeway, we miraculously came to a slow coasting stop at the off ramp closest to our home.

My escapade with Uncle Dale helped me feel even more a part of the family. I also leaned that day that sometimes in life you just have to keep going even though it breaks every rule and makes no sense at all!

First Post. Here we go!

My husband’s Great Uncle Dale is turning 90 this weekend. As a part of a large family birthday celebration, we were all asked to write down and share with others an escapade that we had with Uncle Dale. For most, this was easy because Uncle Dale is an adventurer who never lets the rules get in his way.

Although it was easy for me to remember several escapades with Uncle Dale, it got me wondering “what kind of adventures would people remember 50 years from now with me?” My dearest girlfriend, Alison, has often kidded me that she was going to write a story book called “The Adventures with Heidi.” I found this quite complimentary as it reinforced that my life was not boring as I sometimes feared.

So I stole by dear friend’s book title and have created this blog as a way to share with others my oddities, fascinations, and a celebration of the simple things in life.

Join me. Here we go!