11/01/2026

Notes from the studio, Monte Morello, Italy

Hello dear friends,

I’m going to give a few minutes to go ahead and grab a cup of tea because I’m going to take you on a bit of a gander - a little New Year’s check in if you will…

The second was from a time and place when I was much younger. Funny how letters can sneak up on you like the ghost of Christmas Past.

This one showed up silent and unannounced- much like yesterday's snow, still clinging to the grass in the frozen fields across the street.

The man who sent it to me is an antique dealer in Moscow, Idaho. We used to work together at an Antique mall. I had a booth there too, back in the day. Remember how you could lose yourself in those places with the jazzy Sinatra playlists going 24/7?

This letter was a bit like that- it had antique mall vibes all over it.

First off, it was sent in an old-school yellow manila envelope and when I opened it a bunch of vintage papers dropped out that looked like evidence from a Moosewood Cookbook Murder Mystery Tour.

( I know that game doesn’t exist but damn it would be cool if it did and this would make an awesome prototype!)

Inside was a hastily written letter on a sheet of printer paper- words written with sincerity and humour- his laugh ringing in my ears behind the old cashier's table.

He was never a jerk as the note professes- but he was a bit of trickster.

(You can’t deny the Moosewood cookbook vibes.)

But the contents, damn…how is it that old papers feel so good in your hands?

Among the random bits of ephemera were three hand-drawn menus from the Harvest Moon Restaurant- a small cafe run by some old family friends back in the late 1970’s in my hometown.

The menus were hand-colored with pens and had small tack holes where they had been hung up, possibly on a notice board at the local supermarket or bar.

Is that how you got customers back in 1977?

I never saw the cafe with my own eyes, but I had heard a lot about it over the years. A place where local musicians played in the evening and homemade bread and bagels were baked in the morning to make simple sandwiches. It was located on the second floor above the fire station building and they’d serve soup at 12:00 when the station’s “noon whistle” would blow.

I’m not sure where I'm going with all this- only to say it had been a while since a letter had showed up and taken me places- uniting me me with others - apron strings tying us all together in one warm kitchen. I could almost smell the soup!

Like one big, yellow-tulip hug,

Like one, big, harvest moon.

In other news, I gifted myself some studio time over the holiday break. For some reason black ink and deep greens were calling and the word “Permission” kept ringing in my head while I worked. Maybe it’s my “word of the year”- even if I don’t rely to heavily on those things- the word did speak to me.

While I was painting, I was thinking of this strange thing that happens in my brain where I feel like I need to give myself permission especially when I am using black ink.

Maybe because it is the darkest, most boldest mark you can make on a page.

Maybe because I get a little mix of fear and excitement every time I open the india ink bottle.

But deep down I don’t think I am lacking courage- it’s more a lack of permission for myself to let what ever come- what ever be, be.

This year I plan to give myself all the permission slips I need.

So my question is this-

What is your soul calling you to do but you are not giving yourself permission to try?

I’m curios what’s coming up for you in these first few days and weeks of the New Year? Where is your mind wandering? Are you playing?

My hope is that we can all give ourselves permission this year to be ourselves, to explore, to play and connect with others.

Permission to be human in a time when being human is looked down upon.

Let our rawness be our resistance!

Auria xoxo!