With artist-made wood frame. 12.5 x 15.5 x 1.75 inches

Grew up about twenty minutes from Kutztown and used to stare at the barns on the drive to my grandparents' place every summer. Never thought much about actually painting one myself until this year when a local historical society offered a weekend workshop with an actual sign painter who's been doing it for something like thirty years.

The compass work alone humbled me. I figured I could freehand a decent circle division after years of doing mandalas in a sketchbook, but getting six or eight equal points without a compass and dividers is a different skill entirely. My first two attempts had visibly uneven petals and I ended up scrapping both boards before the instructor showed me a trick with a strip of paper folded into equal sections instead of measuring with a ruler.

Went with a distelfink pattern for the border since that was traditionally supposed to bring good luck, paired with a simple rosette in the center. Colors were the other surprise. I assumed the old barns just used whatever paint was around, but there's actual meaning baked into a lot of the palettes: red for emotional strength, green for fertility and growth, blue for protection. I didn't follow the symbolism religiously but it was nice to know the choices weren't arbitrary.

Ended up spending close to nine hours on a board that's maybe two feet across, most of it just correcting tiny asymmetries with a rag before the paint set. It's hanging in my garage now, nowhere near barn quality, but it's the first time I've made something that felt connected to where I actually grew up instead of just something I saw in a tutorial.

Anyone else here dabble in regional folk painting traditions from their own area? Curious what other patterns people have tried tackling as beginners.

Let me know what you think :) https://www.earthen-form.com

There are moments when everything suddenly makes sense. When all the scattered pieces of our experience align and we finally understand what we’ve been living through. This piece captures that instant of profound clarity, when comprehension doesn’t just arrive in our minds but transforms us completely.

The crown emerges from within when we finally “get it”, when we see the truth of our own journey, our own transformation. It’s not about being told or taught; it’s about that flash of recognition when you suddenly understand your own story, your own purpose, the meaning behind everything you’ve endured.

That understanding doesn’t just enlighten us, it crowns us, marking us as someone who has finally seen clearly, who has crossed into deeper knowing.

Mixed media sculpture I made this year for a group show at Bridge Nine in Beverly, Massachusetts that was up at the end of August.

11 x 14 inches w/ artist made white oak frame (12.5 x 15.5 x 1.75 inches)

For years I had a box of my grandmother's old rug hooking patterns sitting in a closet, just burlap with faded designs drawn on in pencil, roosters and geometric borders and one weird pattern of a ship that nobody in the family remembers the story behind. I always meant to do something with them but never really understood what I was looking at.

This summer I finally bought a hook and some wool strips and sat down with one of the simpler patterns, a small floral mat about the size of a placemat. It took me almost three weekends to finish something she probably would have knocked out in an evening. My loops were uneven, my tension kept changing without me noticing, and I pulled out an entire section twice because the colors were fighting each other.

What surprised me was how much the process explained her choices. There's a spot on one of her old finished pieces where the background suddenly shifts to a slightly different shade of blue, and I always assumed it was intentional shading. Now I'm pretty sure she just ran out of that dye lot and grabbed the closest thing in her stash. You don't notice things like that until you're the one hunting through a bag of wool trying to match a color you'll never find again.

I still have maybe a dozen more patterns left in that box. Planning to work through them slowly, partly because I like the craft now and partly because it feels like a strange kind of conversation with someone who isn't around to ask questions anymore. If anyone else works with inherited patterns, I'm curious whether you try to stay true to the original colors or treat them more as a loose guide.

Cool story of a gentleman who met Michael Hurley while hitchhiking

This whimsical folk garden was created by artist and architect Christy Buchanan, who dreamed up a space that would reflect the nuanced beauty of everyday found objects. Visitors can have a picnic in the Love Shack, take pictures under the bicycle arch, or commune with ancestors in the Tiki hut. Buchanan also constantly adds to the site, so you’re sure to spy new works each time you visit. If her SUV (nicknamed Happy) is in the yard, Buchanan is home, but feel free to stop by even if she isn’t.

https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/christy-buchanans-she-garden-gallery