Friday, March 28, 2025

A Book About Peace-Scatter

My friend Sara suggested we work on a book for kids about peace together. We met once and brainstormed a bit. As we talked the idea grew and grew. There could be a song. It should be free. We both agreed we find peace in our gardens. A story came to me. I wrote a sketch of a song and shared it with just two friends. Maybe one day, I'll share the song here. I told Sara I worried there were no people in my story. It starts maybe after people are gone or maybe the people could find peace in the garden too. Wherever it goes, this is the start. Eight paintings in a free little zine with a seed for recipients to plant. I do hope the idea continues to grow. I hope this little book is the foundation for something bigger. Maybe this is the first story in a series? I find sometimes, you just have to get started to get going. (See the story and paintings below.)

Scatter Peace (In binary code) T. Lane-Forster 2025

They didn’t plan to plant a garden.

Spent most days on their own.

Squirrel collected acorns,

in the pine tree sparrow sang,

while rabbit searched for clover.


They didn’t plan to plant a garden,

til cardinal dropped a seed

onto the barren land from an old lightening fire

from before their time began.


They didn’t plan to plant a garden,

but the rain began to fall.

The sun broke out.

Cardinal’s seed grew to the sky.

A sunflower bloomed.


They didn’t plan to plant a garden.

It didn’t happen overnight.

It took many seasons.

They each brought their seeds to the light.


Even the quiet toad?

Yes, even the quiet toad.


They didn’t plan to plant a garden.

Now it grows and it grows.

A place to gather round the peace tree.

They rarely feel alone

because they’re part of something bigger.

A place to share dreams, hope and love.


And now it’s time to plant your garden.

To spread your peace to the world.



 

Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Cards for the Holidays

   


Christmas postcards 2024, ballpoint pen, crayon, watercolor.
Valentine postcards 2025, gelli plate monotypes with tempera and marker.

Thursday, July 11, 2024

Another cat painting.

 Here is a painting of my friend’s cat, Lucy. Lucy got lost outside, but she came home and that is the best news ever. So, I painted a small portrait for my friend. “Lucy,” 5”x7” acrylic.



Sunday, June 23, 2024

Cat Portrait





 

My son asked me to paint the cats. He picked out an 18” x 24” canvas. This is the biggest painting I’ve worked on since college in painting class.

Thursday, December 21, 2023

Freshwater

I have three Cory catfish and a rabbit snail in a tank.  It took a bit of time this summer into fall to get the water just right and for these creatures and the plants to thrive. 

When it was time to carve a linocut for a holiday card, I thought about my love for the aquarium, the fish and rabbit snail.  It really brings me so much peace.  I love watching the fish swim and explore and the rabbit snail lumbers along like a magical beast.

I decided to print on rice paper this year with water-based ink. I wanted the prints to be fragile just like the creatures.  I forgot how much I used to enjoy printing on rice paper.  I will likely get some more paper to print on in the near future because it was so fun.

I always like the way the blocks look too.
Happy Winter Solstice!  Wishing everyone, everywhere a peaceful season.



 

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

in other words vol 3: a collaboration

 in other words vol 3 | Colin Seven, Tricia Lane Forster | Colin Seven (bandcamp.com)

Pinellas County
 
Orange juice factories and Spanish moss.
Glass bottom boats and mermaids in tanks.
Mornings spent playing solitaire in the sunroom.
Skee-Ball and shuffleboard.
 
Lessons in how to pass the time.
It seems so endless right now.
 
“The chrysanthemums bloomed.”
A comment made in passing
to distract from the fact,
your heart will break at least a thousand times.
 
Walks in the humid evenings,
watching for frogs with yard long shadows.
Eyeing up underpasses,
searching for post-apocalyptic shelter.
Tiny birds tucked into rows
on the backs of corrugated steel highway signs
like sweet invitations into envelopes.
 
If we’re lucky,
we'll meet again under the pear tree.
I will teach you how to sew buttons
back onto shirts.
How to wash a glass.
How to carry your story
because these hexagons will scatter.
They pull apart
and come together.
They shift,
right now,
under my feet.

For Anna May

The spearmint and dirty buttercream awning,
a little bit dry rotted,
rattled softly in the light rain.
 
I looked out for you,
but all I found was an empty Coke glass
with runny condensation
and two stale ice cubes lounging around,
unwelcome at the bottom.
 
There are no windchimes,
just the tick, tick, tick, tat of the ceiling fan.
No rabbits either,
just old, wise bulbs and seeds
waiting like monks to bloom.
 
First will be the daffodils,
then wild violets,
redbuds, dandelions, buttercups,
forsythias, tulips, azaleas,
wisteria, lilies of the valley, roses,
irises, dogwood,
clover, poppies, daylilies,
and rose of Sharon.
 
Soon, the crickets will be square-dancing
and sleeping in matchboxes under the hostas.
 
We will play checkers again,
won't we?

 


A Book About Peace-Scatter

My friend Sara suggested we work on a book for kids about peace together. We met once and brainstormed a bit. As we talked the idea grew and...