It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I’ve gone and come back, I’ll find it at home. — Rumi
Please contact me if you are interested in adding this or any other piece to your collection.
It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I’ve gone and come back, I’ll find it at home. — Rumi
Please contact me if you are interested in adding this or any other piece to your collection.
“On a day when the wind is perfect, the sail just needs to open and the world is full of beauty.
Today is such a day.”
― Rumi
Please contact me if you are interested in adding this or any other piece to your collection.
“The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” – Gilbert K. Chesterton
If you are interested in adding this or another piece of artwork to your collection please contact me.
Four more days until Kyle and I are off for our NorthWest tour. With the heat here at home, it couldn’t come a moment too soon, but with the amount we need to get done before we leave, we could certainly use an extra moment or two! And this year we will be traveling with the camper we purchased in Idaho on last year’s tour, which adds another whole level of complexity to the preparations, but a new level of fun to the trip. Continue reading »
I just returned from my 6th show of the year, this one in Chicago’s Old Town neighborhood. It was a fairly typical fair, with all the stimulus that entails: the thousands of people in the hot sun, the hundreds of fantastically talented artists’ booths, bands playing, dogs and strollers jockeying for position and making their standard noises, the smell of the brats being cooked on the corner. It can be overwhelming, and occasionally I have to seek a reprieve in the back of my booth, a quiet moment to myself that acts as a reset of sorts.
At this particular show, however, my booth space backed up against the front stoop of an apartment building. For this weekend, it too became a place of respite, the rest stop for the tired or overwhelmed fair goers. I was fascinated by how this public place had become a quiet, intimate place of rest, and began documenting the people that sometimes needed a break like I do. The ones that need a moment to themselves to reset, to recompose. And it struck me that it was all the same – the back of my booth, the front stoop, the open plain. They all can become a place to catch your breath, a quiet interlude before diving into the fray once more.

Six weeks ago, my friend Christina and I started following a fitness program. After not running since my soccer days (and only then either chasing or being chased), we started training for the 5k ColorRun. We’re following the very sensible Couch to 5K running program and dutifully following the verbal instructions given us by Get Running – an application on our phones. As we work our way through the training intervals, a very pleasant British female voice tells us when to start and stop running, and periodically gives us words of encouragement. Her accent adds a sense of sophistication as we sweat our way around the park.
We often talk back to our British foe friend, and I would be less than truthful if I said that everything said to her was nice. In fact, for weeks we have made fun of her when she has offered one particular suggestion, sarcastically thanking her for her “sage” advice. When we embark on our longest running interval she offers in her most pleasant and helpful way, “Remember to moderate your pace, and if you find yourself flagging, slow back a little to a pace you can maintain.” This is followed a bit later by, “Don’t forget you can slow your pace a little, should you need to.” For weeks Christina and I have laughed about this, imagining a person running full speed about to fall out, but not knowing how to solve their problem. We picture the person with their hair blown back, cheeks flapping as if in a wind tunnel, painfully sprinting past without the common sense to slow down.
But, last night as I was making my way around the park, it occurred to me that what seems such obvious common sense in running is not applied to other areas of our life.
Indeed, what if in those times when our lives are running at a blistering tempo, a voice could remind us occasionally:
or
I hope my artwork can be that pleasant reminder – minus the british accent.
[muh-jes-tik] adjective
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© 2020 Chris Dahlquist