Home

Here is my home, be it ever so-well let's face it-it's adorable!
I've been here five years now, which feels like both ages and an instant, simultaneously. I think of myself as one who likes to stay put. The very thought of moving nearly causes the sensation of a rising panic, starting right about at my heart, but then I remember to breathe.
Breathe Dusti and remember that you will find beauty and make a happy home where ever you go, because you are truly a gypsy at heart.
Breathe and remember "there are other worlds than these", located minutes from your studio. I can make a home so close to the studio so that my daily routine is an effortless flow of work and the daily self-care routine. While I enjoy driving, there is something to be said for the energy & resources sucked up by a daily commute of 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
The entire area surrounding my studio is honestly just dreamy; really a sight for these sore, "Charlotte-y" eyes. I'll be taking so many pictures, visual delights absolutely abound and have me wanting to paint worse than ever.
So, I'm scared to move, but I'll be sucking it up and doing it anyway so I can live on purpose.
The best thing I have going for me is the faith in myself to go forth with the blind courage of those who have nothing to loose.
Just gotta remember to breathe.

Ah, the rail road tracks. God help me, I love this refuge from Charlotte with all her progress, traffic, neighborhood associations and outdoor advertising; strips of peaceful refuge for miles on end where time stands still.
Cloudy days like this one a few days ago are my favorite. The camera just loves those overcast skies.
The November colors are some of my favorite. I love the changes in seasons. Is anything more exciting than watching the world change before your very eyes?
Just look at the miles of gorgeous scenery I try to take in while keeping my feet going where they should each step. Did I make that sound too hard? It's hard because A) the ties are spaced unevenly and cause me to lengthen my stride about fifty percent longer than natural, and B) the scenery and compelling vibe of the CSX right of way is hard for me to tear my eyes from, thus causing me trouble with "A".
This tracks runs east and west but it bends north and south a little over its course. The sun is at my 1 o'clock on my way east and about my 7 o'clock on my way west, back home.
I like taking shots from my hiking viewpoint, even though shooting into the sun isn't photographically ideal. For me, this is what meditation looks like.

CSX has put down a few yards of thick black felt over about 20 feet of tracks, I don't know why. There's some conduit running right beneath, so that's probably why. If I were rich, I'd buy me some miles of tracks and make them carpet it like this, so I could walk & run and not be as concerned about the likelihood of busting my ass...again! Wouldn't that be fancy?
My Mother is perpetually concerned about me falling down, getting knocked unconscious and being run over by the next train. I tried to stay away. I did. But my quality of life suffered greatly without this particular vice. And a girl's got to have her priorities straight.
Sorry Mom;)

And now for something completely different:

Remember Steven King's Cycle Of The Werewolf and the film version Silver Bullet that followed it in 1985? By the way, that was such an awesome year to be a 9 year old, as I was!
I love this movie and rank it among a very short list of movies based on King books that did the stories justice.
I remember renting it from Buck-A-Day video in Laurel Mississippi and watching it in the Orange Room of Mimi's cool, old, haunted house with my own Ka-Tet; Brandi, Karla and Vanessa. We watched more than once and I was captivated by every moment. I didn't read the book for a few more years, which is kind of cool, looking back on it.
There were aspects of the story that really resonated with me; the children taking their silver necklaces to a local reloader who smelted them and cast them into a silver bullet with which they could kill the werewolf. I was raised worshiping at the altar of the smelting pot, looking up into Dad's face through a delicious smelling cloud of molten lead vapor, thin as gossamer. Watching him hold the mold under the pot, filling the perfect bullet shaped voids, tapping the mold on the table then watching the fresh hot bullets tumble out with a rich thud; ah, what a ritual. Also the firecrackers that shot out the werewolf's eye were a mandatory treat on each visit to Mississippi to play with the Hodge sisters, the eye injury the werewolf/Reverend sustained was exactly the type of incident parents warned us against, and I thought of that as we played "bottle rocket wars" with the Hodges & the McGees among the fire ants and mosquitoes out in Jones County Mississippi; it all just felt sweetly familiar to my little 9 yr. old self.
Here was the hero's super cool "Uncle Red" played by the fabulous Mr. Gary Busey! He was everything you'd want out of an uncle, a confidant, partner in crime, parent deflector and whip-ass wheel chair/motorcycle hybrid maker for his "crippled" nephew played by Cory Haim. He even smuggled him some contraband bottle rockets to shoot on the night of the 4th of July!
That's another cool detail about the story; each werewolf attack takes place on a holiday. When I later checked out the book from the library I read in the prologue how yes, King knew that in reality the holidays he referenced didn't each fall exactly a month apart to accommodate a werewolf's biological cycle, but that was what you called "Artistic License". Lighten up, haters!
This guy, The Reverend played by Everett McGill was perfect as the creepy, unwholesome looking town werewolf with the perfect cover; "Who me, a Man of The Cloth, an unholy Hell creature?" His eyepatch was donned after the werewolf tried to chase down Cory Haim as he was trying to shoot off the bottle rockets over a bridge. The jig was up when the boy and his older sister showed up at the Reverend's house the next day, combing the neighborhood for people with fresh eye injuries. He was spine tingling in that scene! Incidentally, I would have loved him at about this age to play Roland Deschain, the hero of Steven King's crown jewel of literary accomplishments, The Gunslinger novels, a.k.a. The Dark Tower Series. All I can do now that he and Clint Eastwood are too old for the part is pray a movie version is never made.
Aw, remember when Cory Haim was still a cute little boy? He was great for a horror movie back then, he had a cute role in The Lost Boys too, as I recall.


I've been revisiting these 80's classics this month. Sadly this is not available on Netflix, so I haven't seen it in decades still. But it's something to look forward to eventually buying off ebay, it's a good one for the ol' collection.
My memories of staying up late in the really cool, but really scary Hillcrest house, Mimi's signature indoor climate-around 60 degrees in the summertime, all us kids snuggled up in blankets, raiding the fridge for Pudding Pops and Cokes and watching "those ol' vulgar movies" as Dad called them, are some of the sweetest little parts of my childhood memories. Grownups all asleep, two pairs of sisters up way past their bedtimes, watching Silver Bullet, Creep Show, Nightmare On Elmstreet, Sleepaway Camp Nightmare and the like in a big orange rose wallpapered room with a high up bed, shag carpet, and heavy drapes covering windows bumpy with condensation from the frigid temps indoors divided by one thin pane of glass from the absolutely muggiest heat outdoors Mississippi has to offer on a summer night.
Ah, that's the stuff dreams are made of! Now, getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom alone in the very scary and very dark house later on required some real courage, combined with a running start to leap back into the tall bed, ensuring your feet stay the requisite 2' minimum safe distance from the bed's edge to avoid capture by the creature who undoubtedly lay in wait for a tender little girl in his under-the-bed lair.
Still, it was a bargain at any price, the whole horror movie watching experience!
And now that I'm as grown as I'm likely to ever get, I can watch them at home alone and I don't even have to get a head start on a running leap to get back in bed! Those monsters would have gotten me by now. Besides, I got tired of living in fear of them and crawled under my bed at home one night, right around that age, just to prove to myself it could be done. As Van Helsing would say, "A moment's courage and it is done."
Thanks for letting my ramble about things I remember that make me feel happy and cozy and nostalgic.
That's just the feeling I want to summon for this much needed and much appreciated rainy October night.
I just know what's good, is all. Besides, a little vulgarity hasn't hurt me much yet, as far as I can tell.

"The Living Keep Moving..."

..."And The Dead Lie Still" was what my Grandaddy Pearson used to say. We all always loved that one.
Gorgeous Mississippi Pines
The day after we buried Pop, we went to Hattiesburg to be at Grandad Pearsons' side during his passing. It was purely coincidental timing, if you believe in such a thing as coincidence.
I do not, sir.
The odds of me, both my parents and my sister all four being down there at the same time are pretty slim. The odds of someone actually dieing at the moment that you are there by their side are slimmer yet. It was my family and my Aunt Charme, Dad's little sister, who were all 5 holding hands in a circle around him as he went on to the hereafter. I'm really at a loss for words in trying to write it justice.
I have to say though, that it was very similar to being present for a birth; intense, being hyper-aware of each moment in the present, feeling a soul moving into or out of the world right in front of you. There are a lot of similarities between birth and death. I picture it as dropping into this physical world and then dropping back out, into the Universe, the collective unconscious, Heaven, or whatever label of your choosing.
Wilbur Buckner Pearson would undoubtedly choose Heaven. And if that experience didn't bring every one of us to Jesus, nothin' would!
He had been a fine woodworker, a problem solver, architect, aeronautical engineer, tinkerer and builder, whistler, gardener, cat trainer, ice cream eater, coffee drinker and a most devout Christian. He also loved miniatures and had handmade from scratch an exact replica of Napoleon's coach that was about the size of a loaf of bread and was complete with velvet button tucked interior and little brass hardware. He'd carved the whole thing from wood and it sat with museum quality presence in their living room, I was forbidden to touch it. I would sneak in when everyone in the house were all napping in the hot Mississippi afternoon and creep up to it, hold my breath and open that little tiny side door, peering inside to that magically opulent, miniature world. I'd really need a picture of it to do it justice.
Another of my favorite things he made that I got to grow up with was the hand carved wooden cameo that's probably about 10" tall he carved of my Mom. It is so soft and perfect, lovingly and skillfully capturing her classic beauty. A perfect bas relief of the lovely contours of her young face, I spent lots of time standing beneath it where it hung in out hallway, reaching up and feeling the landscape of her profile rendered in wood from an old apple crate and marvel that such could be done. His level of craftsmanship is what I will always aspire to. That's probably the biggest mark he left on me; setting a very high standard for doing things the right way, paticularly in woodworking, and having that yardstick to measure everything by.
Between funerals and deaths we all camped out at my Mimi's house and sat around eating peas and cornbread and telling old stories! Oral history is one of the tenets of the Pearson/Caldwell clan.
Here we are setting around Mimi's living room, decompressing after a long day. Laughs came freely and easily in this crowd!

Here is Brandi, Aunt Charme, me and Dad the day after, about to go our separate ways.
I brought back an embarrassment of buckeyes from my great Granny Jefcoats tree. You carry one in your pocket and they bring good luck. They are such things of great beauty! Such a sight to behold all this abundance gathered in one spot. They're my memento from a long and highly spiritually charged visit to the Deep, mysterious South.
What a week!
As for me, I'm about to lie still as the dead for hopefully ten hours or so, to get back to all the moving I've got to resume tomorrow.
I plan to rest in great peace.

Mr Caldwell has left The Building

I woke up on October 7th to Mom calling to tell me her father died. She was on her way down to Mississippi to see him as his health had taken a turn for the worse, but got the call early that, as his grieving widow phrased it "Your Daddy has gone to Heaven."
Red Caldwell a.k.a. "Popaw" was nothing if not a legend in his own time; enigmatic with a reputation shrouded in mystery and tales of redneck mafia type activity.
Suffice it to say, our little branch were the only ones in the family to still speak to him.
But, the line for visitation went out the door, many from "The Community" showed up to pay their respects and chit chat to those whom they would normally dare not speak to.
At "Memory Chapel" fanciness abounded.

Bran & I put the fun back in funeral, sneaking back into the coffin showroom so I could sneak a few pics and to afford us the opportunity to poke fun at the industry in general.
Care to be laid to rest in a mauve polyester prairie gown with contrasting white lace bib? We got you covered.

There's a Devil on my shoulder prodding me to tell about how his grieving widow behaved while touring the coffin gallery. She may have been a tad theatrical, but my good Southern Upbringing forbids me from posting those intimacies here online.
Now if we were shooting the breeze face to face I'd go into a full impersonation, accent, mannerisms and all...
This is not the coffin she chose. This is the one Bran & I wanted, it was navy blue with a powder blue liner and this killer ocean scene with seagulls and the words "Going Home." I could have airbrushed his shrimp boat "Lady C" in there and customized it right on up! It reminds one of the Popaw uniform: light blue pant/jeans, shiny white leather loafers with tassels, a thin short sleeved button up and a trucker hat with some kind of gold filigree-naval-looking things on the front.
The place had some cool bricks on the floor with a plaque dating them back to 1922. So don't say this post is all tacky vulgarity. Here's your culture right here.
From left: Me, my little cousin Grant, Mimi (Moms mother, Pop's EX-wife), Brandi and Mom.
After driving way out to Smith County Mississippi to plant him in the very soil he so hated, (he grew up there and hated every inch of that place), we met Mimi (who was most certainly not in the funeral procession) closer to home for a big lunch. It was really wonderful getting to see so much family.
My Dad, (Pops X-son-in-law) was one of the pallbearers , and the funeral was on October 10, Dad's birthday. That was weird. But the weirdness continued until it reached miraculous proportions.
Would that I could tell all.
Details in the post to follow...

Changes Are Coming

It's October! This Fall has been late, going from nasty end of summer right to cool fall. I really missed the lingering weeks of changing weather. The change just came on kind of suddenly here.
That's the theme, change.
My sister & I just got a studio, a legit one and it has been a long time comin'. The above picture is from the lot where the studio is located; a rambling, varied, open complex that once held the city's waterworks. I'll have lots more from there soon.
This is a shot from Bran's work space at home before doing a California Halloween art show a few weeks ago. Mayhem!
We've both been working out of our houses lo the many years. I am actually impressed with us both, the work we've done in our kitchens, decks, back porches. My mind and heart both race at the thought of what we will do in an actual dedicated, equipped, shared workspace...
That's huge; the space is huge, the idea is huge, the potential energy of it all is huge...big change. Big & good!
Other big changes include Tiffany getting married! This is Vanessa (left), Tiffany, and Molly at the reception. And let me just say, how lucky am I to get to celebrate with three of my absolute oldest & dearest best friends? Everybody is really grown up now, somehow. It astounds me.
Right after uploading the pics from the Sept 10 wedding, I had a bad scare with my camera and went through withdrawals. A new 2 gig SD card and all is right with the world.
I really missed taking pictures of beautifukl little bits of stuff like this. It's silly, but it makes me happy. My house is full of little vignettes of cool "stuff", there is an order to the chaos.
Having the new studio is really going to change the vibe of my home, in a good way...but I'll admit, I don't like the idea of moving all my tools 25 miles away from home! That's another change I look forward to making myself embrace. I can leave my jewelry stuff at home; it's small and relatively portable. But the separation of work space & living space still makes me feel like "But what if I need to make something at home? What if I just need my jigsaw for a sec?" Okay Dusti, in the event that you need a jig saw, you'll use it at the studio like a big girl. Just be cool.
I think there is a Buddhist idea that "pain is simply resistance to change", or something to that effect. That's a good one for me to remember. You can't control the world without, only the world within. I only control how I decide to feel and react, and that's enough.
Tomorrow is I've-lost-count-of the # Tysabri infusion. Going on three years now!
I've been thinking about ms, which I rarely write about. It really is a disease that exploits your weaknesses. What I mean is, it exploits the weaknesses you've always had. I wonder if anyone else has that experience? It exaggerates the effect of stress on your body, makes you hyper-aware of how you handle stress, which is a good thing. It's really drawn me into my body, slowly and steadily, more and more. That's good too.
I feel I am more self possessed than before and it's ms that's brought me here.
A friend recently joked about MS standing for Mostly Sucky. I love it!
But it's not all "sucky."
Just another change to be embraced.

Lil' Mamma

September 15th is my Mom's birthday. Sam Pearson is easily the most nurturing, caring, hilarious, dependable mother ever. Yeah, I know you love your Mom too, but this is my blog.
I don't write about my parents often, because it's daunting; how can I really do either of them justice? They raised me to try my best, so here goes.
When I remember my Mom from when I was a little kid, I think of her Bermuda shorts, knee highs & penny loafers, gold hoop earrings, big purses with tobacco from her Kent 100s packs, (for the record, after "umpteen" years of smoking, she dropped the bad habbit like a hot potato 13 years ago, when she became a grandmother) Wrigleys Spearmint gum, loose change and crumpled Kleenex. Funny how sentimental I can get about the contents of her purse.
I remember long roadtrips to her homeland, Mississippi in her Cadillac, me sitting on the arm rest (aka "the horsey") flopped over on her shoulder the whole 600 miles. She let me sit there like that, paralyzing her right arm until I just didn't fit anymore, probably around age 7.
She's an especially talented caregiver of the sick. "If I had a nickle for everytime" (as she's fond of saying) she put me in a clean nightgown, changed my sheets, cooled my fevered head with a wet bath cloth, I'd be a millionaire. When I was in 7th grade I had my gall bladder removed, resulting in a nasty staph infection that I swear damn near killed me. It went on & on, I must have missed a month of school, to date it was the most painful, awful physical experience of my life. What I remember most is how much fun we had! I'd wake up at 2 AM in excruciating pain and she'd shuffle me down to the den where we'd watch TV and drink Sprite and snuggle on the sofa.
6 years ago today I was in Charleston SC, 1 month into a building arts curriculum on her birthday. She brought my oldest niece Ellie down for a visit and, long story short, that was the very day of my first real undiagnosed MS episode. So weird that it would be on her exact birthday.
Throughout the course of this illness, she has been my hero, my confidant, my helper, my advocate, my partner in crime. And once again, I can look back over all the bad stuff and what I'm left with is the memory of all the fun times we've had, all the jokes & laughter. When I got my first brain stem lesions leaving me with a temporary lazy eye, we laughed our asses off about how goofy I looked. What are you gonna do, not laugh? Not likely!
Need someone to hang out with while, in a fit of anger & relief, you break a set of dishes in the trash can by the road at 11 PM? Mom's there.
She can get things done with her old school Mississippi charm, or as a last resort she can cut through red tape with a very appropriate & sophisticated tongue lashing, you know, in a classy way without uttering one single bad-word.
Old people, babies, and everyone in between flock to her for help. We were in line at Wendy's once when we saw a man fall as he was crossing the street. He got up and made a bee line for Mom, coming up to her and announcing "I fell!" No telling how many people he passed on his way.
Frequently when we're shopping people will ask for her advice on an outfit. Notice, that never happens to me.
(Here she is on the right with her cousin in Mississippi this summer)
You know that supposedly common experience teenagers have of being embarrassed by their parents? I never had it. Not once. My Mom was always the coolest, and all my friends knew it.
I'm really close with all my family and I spend a lot of time with my sister and we love to invoke Mom's words of wisdom in her awesome accent "And for God's sake, stop by an outlet mall!" on a road trip or "Well, it's been cool" if you're deciding on the food poisoning likelihood of a pot of beans left unrefrigerated a while.
I could go on & on about why she's such a bad-ass, but instead of trying to cram it all into one blog post, I'm just going to end with Happy Birthday Mom!
I love you!!!

A Dana Thread

So here I am, awake too late, mind too stimulated to go down. I give up! I was reading another post of Dana Dee's Blog
and it got me thinking all about old cemeteries.
She brings up the idea that celebrating Decoration Day , honoring your dead ancestors is part of a full spiritual life. I concur.
At the very least I find visiting old cemeteries (even crappy new ones) to be the nicest little break in normal life; a visit to another realm if I may be dramatic.
I love looking at the gorgeous scenery, wondering about the changes the landscape has gone through since the oldest tombstone dates, speaking out loud the names, figuring ages at time of death, wondering about each life. When these old places are properly tucked away, it's easy to imagine what their funeral may have looked like. When you're standing right where mourners of decades or centuries ago once stood, just the thought honors those lives.
Here's a little diddy by my man John Lee Hooker about Decoration Day.
I think it's a pretty sweet way to pay homage to human life, your own included.
In the next, oh let's give me 3 years I am taking myself a little vacation up & down the east coast, from Philly back down. I will stop where ever I dam-well please to ponder and photograph. The "anchor" stops will be cemeteries. I plan to do it solo, but who knows, maybe I'll take someone along. It isn't the kind of trip you need a friend there to have a good time.
But, I don't know, I can think of a few people who would be a blast to take along!
Eh, whatever; "it's my funeral"-I mean vacation!

Please do yourself a favor and pop on into my dear friend

Dana Dee's Blog. ...(right there!)

Her ever growing writing style is beyond inspirational to me. She is an excellent story teller and writes about the coolest observations in the most original way. Best of all worlds!

Studio 136

Welcome to Studio 136 of Concord, N.C.'s Water Works Studios!
My sister Brandi & I have been waiting for this day, plotting, planning, envisioning, conjuring and waiting some more for this. It's 1280 sq. feet of climate controlled inspiration!
It has tons of natural light coming in from a row of windows with southern exposure, overlooking the greenway. Perfect.
The site is two old buildings that were first the city's stables for the coaches, then the waterworks, and now finally a group of art studios started to revitalize the old downtown area and hip-up Concord. The buildings are old and the areas that have not been renovated still have all kinds of cool stuff everywhere, including infrastructure for water purification. The light under this pipe is beautiful.
Beauty and inspiration abound; look at the patina on these doors.
This area is the gallery where all the artists (me!) will be showing their work.
Brandi & I met with our friend Sean there this morning to show us around. He's one of our neighbors! It will be worth the rent just to have the luxury of his company and the opportunity to pick his brain. He scoffs at us for saying so, but I want to be him when I grow up. He knows how to do everything! You'll be hearing more about him and his overabundance of skills in days to come...
I can move all my woodworking tools and everything else in here and finally have no impediments to creating. I can't say what this means to me. All I can say is "It's about damn time!"
And also that I am filled with gratitude and excitement. I can't even do it justice in this blog post. Just take my word for it, this is a big step in the right direction and Brandi & I will show that space some art-action like it never dreamed of.

End of Summer Creations

I built a light tent this month. Just look at these fancy results! I'll have more on this later, but I threw a few of the pics in this post.
I was struck by the idea to make thunder or lightening blots. I was inspired by a little lightening bolt pin Dad used to always wear on his black hat. It was only about an inch long and shiny nickle plated or something silvery and it was such a bold little graphic, perfect for the dynamic artist/designer/cowboy/renaissance man himself.
I really enjoyed making the earrings, I made another pair yesterday too.
One of my bffs Tiffany is getting married next month and we got together recently to make some things for the event. I won't say what yet! Having time together with friends just making stuff and shootin' the bull is ever more rare the older you get. Such an indulgent luxury, our time.
Even making a b-double-e-double-r-u-n up to the hipster store right before 2 AM after a night out is an activity to be savored! This was on a different night, we were being good at the taking of the previous picture.
I've so thoroughly enjoyed my summer in every way, really lived in the present for this one. I took the first few precious weather months to get the most of the outdoors and get lots of exercise and sun! I've also spent some quality time with quality friends, there's nothing else like it. And throughout all this I've worked on new designs, tried out new ideas, focused on jewelry making. I've also begun listing things in my neglected Etsy shop!
I was so tired last night after completing two pairs of earrings that I forgot to use the white manikin in the light tent! It was so much sawing, sawing, sawing and filing, drilling, sanding. I of course relished every bit of this zen-inducing tedium. Behold some results!
I will get better pictures though.
I'm off to set up my awesome makeshift photography studio!
My parting words are, enjoy the last little bit of summer. Fall's up next!

I'm a guest blogger!

Thanks to the wonderful world of bloggin' I have met Laura (Rhinestone Armadillo).
She has the coolest blog about all kinds of creative, beautiful and hilarious things and is always a real inspiration to me.
She's been having guest bloggers for her Summer Of Awesomeness project and I'm on of them! Thank you Laura!
If you want to see:

Click here


You should really check out her blog, it's a hub of coolness and I guarantee you'll be hard pressed to find another one quite like it.

Goodbye July!

July 2011 has been a good one and I wanted to enjoy the last day of it proper.
I went to The Farm with Roxi in tow and soaked up the visual delights all around me. I can smell the barn now, looking at this fine patch of spider webs in the corner.
This is a little gateway in the fence for two legged critters; we had a filly when I was 11 and she could squeeze her tiny self through here! Dad had to put up a little chain across to keep Daisy on the right side of the fence and I think of her whenever I walk through.

I can't get enough of the dusty cobwebs...
Door to the old tackroom. There was a kitty who gave birth to many a kitten behind this door in a box of nails.
I got to enjoy a summer storm while I was there and enjoyed every second of that magical transformation of the air and the light; colors come alive and the world sings when it's like this.
I found a "D"
"D" is for "Dusti"
This goobress right here? Roxi is in a state of pure Joy, it's infectious.
Chains, I love chains. I can remember several manly tasks I "helped" Dad do with these. I am forever on the lookout for some like these...they're on my wishlist.
It was a beautiful day, the 31st of July 2011.
August is a transitional month, and I will shortly find myself in a terrible state of excitement & anticipation for Fall.
But I'm not going to rush it...
..........not going to rush it..........
...........not going to rush it.........