Icicles hang form the eves and a light intermittent rain falls. The sky is low and gray keeping the cold air down and the sun away. I have never seen the air so calm, so placid. Never a breeze blows and the smoke from chimneys wafts up in a lazy vertical line to meld with the low haze over the village.
Tedium in the studio added to the dreary day outside; the repetition of line after line of steel in tight little spaces. But forms are becoming solid, negative spaces solid with line.
Hey Aaron,I'm one of your mom's friend's daughters, Natalie. Your mom sent me the link to your blog. It's is very interesting. You mention that the family you're staying with leaves at some point to harvest. What do they do the rest of the rest of the year in terms of income? Is this really just a village?
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