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Embracing Grief

What I’m most grateful for about the losses I’ve experienced in my life is their effect of making me suddenly, unexpectedly, excruciatingly present. The summer my older brother died I was painting a friend’s 2-story 4-bedroom house a soft pale yellow.

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June Jordan & Sabina’s time at Expedition

Author: Sabina Smith, age 15.  When I first read June Jordan’s “Poem about My Rights,” it was the first day of spring break. Conferences had just ended and I was sitting at a coffee shop next to Expedition Press with my friend. We saw Myrna and she invited us over. On her wall in the shop there was a copy of the poem tacked up. I began reading the poem because it caught my interest, and I still can’t fully describe how powerful it felt, so full of emotion and honestly, I’d never read anything more mesmerizing. 

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On Edge

ABC, 123: planning out the On Edge art installation to scale. Recently I was interviewed by a 13 yr old who asked me what the hardest part of my job is. “Time!” I said immediately. “Good lord, time management. Knowing what to prioritize when.” A week prior a journalist asked me about my relationship to time as if I knew some secret about detaching from the fast-paced pressures of the digital

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Building an Art Show

New artwork is taking over my shop! Show opens May 31 in Seattle. A year ago, at a windy roadside stop in South Dakota with a couple flickering bars of reception, I checked my email. There was a message from the manager of a gallery in downtown Seattle, whom I’d met at a couple openings. She was wondering whether I wanted to join next year? I gasped and rubbed the sand out of my eyes, read it again.

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Making Sweet Darkness

From analog to digital and back again, laying out the linocut. I first read the poem “Sweet Darkness” by David Whyte on a Friday, at the end of one of the worst weeks of my life. Husband demanding separation, step daughter screaming, mother gone missing. With rain and wind and a million shouting voices of need all around, I got to those last three lines and the bottom fell out. It was a sucker punch to the gut, aimed straight at all the things I already knew and didn’t want to. anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.”

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