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  • Ray Monde

How small observations of Puget Sound, create a big audience.

On Fridays in the studio, I take a break from my big projects and work on little things.

I open my window on Cherry Street and watch the people from my third storey window.

There’s a homeless man with a mental illness, stooping to scratch at a white mark on the tarmac. His pants have no elastic and drag around his feet without ever coming off.

On the corner a huddle of tourists wait for the lights to change and the stories of their tour guide to unfurl.

A man with a hose on a stick, refreshes the petunias which tumble out of their hanging baskets.

I make coffee and perch at my big studio table. Tear a piece of Arches paper out of its pad and begin to make a simple collage vignette.

These are tiny works of a simple thing I have seen on my journey from my home on Bainbridge Island to my studio is Pioneer Square. A paddle, a buoy, a sailing boat with brightly coloured bunting.

They’re neat little pictures that give a sense of place and home and strangely come comfort, too.

If I dig back into my head, I see the little picture on my cot at pre-school. The kids around me had exciting things on their cots like a dog or a crayon or a fire truck. I had a broom. I was disappointed.

Strangely now though, those little images in my mind are connecting with collectors around the world. If you’d like a catalogue, send me an email and let you know what’s left. I'd love to hear what you think.

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