2026: A Wild Rabbit Year

This evening, as I was walking home with our New Yearโ€™s feast from Lotus Express Chinese restaurant, one of our wild city rabbits hopped out from a driveway and down the sidewalk in front of me.

North American cottontails donโ€™t dig burrows. They get through the winter outdoors, sheltering in bushes and under porches. This one was certainly on its way home to some preferred back yard where it knows it has a secure place to keep warm tonight and something for breakfast in the morning. As long as I didnโ€™t try to mess with it in the malicious way of those humans who think othersโ€™ discomfort is funny, it seemed content to share the sidewalk with me. So we lolloped along together for half a block. I lost sight of it when it rounded the corner ahead of me. It must have cut up another driveway to get behind the houses. 

I hope it was heading for our yard. We have the most trees and shrubs, thanks to my ambitious but overworked landlords. An accidental rewilding project.

I took this as a good omen. A rabbit-rabbit-rabbit charm, even if the moon is not yet full.

Rabbits symbolize fertility (obviously) and by extension prosperity. Theyโ€™re survivors who thrive against ridiculous odds. Tiny and fragile, they will throw hands (paws) without hesitation when threatened or just pissed off. Omg, those little hooligans will come at you with intent. I just love them.

So I presume to take this rare winter encounter as a good sign for 2026. Confirmation of a feeling Iโ€™ve been having.

A headline from one of the 2025 wrap-up articles I have set aside to read later says, โ€œThis year ended better than it started.โ€

I agree. Granted, the landscape is still rolling dumpster fires as far as the eye can see, and if I were betting on it, Iโ€™d say 2026 will get worse before it gets better.

But for the first time in a long time, I have the feeling it will get better, maybe even quicker than expected.

Thereโ€™s no particular event that makes me think this. Itโ€™s more a shift of energy. A societal mood swing. A ripple in the zeitgeist. A sense that people have had enough of this shit.

Which shit? All of it. All the 10,000 shits. 

A sketch of rabbits fighting in the spring.
When first you see the full moon’s light,
Say “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit” thrice
For a month of fortune, joyous and bright.

I know Iโ€™ve had enough. My list of Things Iโ€™m Done With is long. Iโ€™m done with billionaires and maga, with marketing and media, with all the corporate shenanigans and snake oil. Just frikkin done.

And Iโ€™m done with a lot of myself, too. With old bad habits. (I need new ones!) With my waffling and procrastination, with half-assing my way through problems. With being so deep in the weeds, I have no idea where Iโ€™ve come to in my life. With my utter and complete disorganization.

When it comes to changing for the better, nothing just happens. You have to do it, and nobody does anything until theyโ€™re ready. Until they feel like it. Thatโ€™s when they make their move. Thatโ€™s when they quit smoking, change parties, leave that job, take that class, get out and vote, blow the whistle, clean their house.

2025 was horrible. No argument. I donโ€™t need to go over it all here. If you follow me, then you probably also follow the news. Itโ€™s been a historically horrible year.

But as of this writing, on December 31st, 2025, We the People are not the ones freaking out and trying desperately to cover our asses. I wonโ€™t say weโ€™ve taken control of the narrative just yet, but we have a grip on it, which is more than we had a year or even six months ago. It took us a whole year, but we finally have the ground under our feet again.

So despite skyrocketing costs, economic chaos, political violence, and a latter-day Nero fiddling with the White House as the dumpsters burn, I will take that little rabbit as a lucky charm. 

An omen of success against the odds, of building happiness by thinking quick, adapting to the circs, making do, creating a lot, and not being afraid to get into the fight when needed.

Thriving in 2026 might not look the way we expect, but lifeโ€™s too short to be long about the forms of it. Whatever comes, I know we can make the most of it.

Iโ€™ll put that up over my desk as a motto for the year. โ€œWhatever it is, make the most of it.โ€

Naturally, I have big plans, but I make no promises now. Between the world and the dramas weโ€™ve survived, we are embracing a lot of change here at the studio and attached apartment, so I have no idea what Iโ€™ll do or when. Iโ€™ll just say my focus in 2026 will be on experimenting with new-to-me forms and media. There are skills I want to learn, and skills I learned the past couple of years that will get new uses and presentations. Some of you might not be into it, but some might like it better. I hope everyone will find something good here. But however it goes, 2025 is ending with happy outcomes we couldnโ€™t have foreseen. I intend to make good on it.

And I hope you can find your own inner wild city rabbit this year, as well. Find the resources you need, whatever form they come in. Throw down and thrive. And when the odds are against you, ignore them. Winners donโ€™t bet against themselves.

Happy New Year, everyone!
Letโ€™s get into it.

Note: This essay contains 928 words, which according to western numerology, reduces to 10 and then to 1. So do the numerals of 2026. In tarot, 10 is the number of the Wheel of Fortune, and 1 is the number of The Magician. Interpretation: 2026 is a chance for us to direct our fate. I might write more about this at a later date.


Some of the work I did in 2025.

Finding Magic: a winter small works series

How to stay hopeful when it all gets to be just too much seems to be the question of the day, at least among the Youtubers and pundits I follow. How to weather the slings and arrows, pick yourself up and dust yourself off, and all that.

Well, honestly, I’ve always been too bloody-minded to lose hope for very long. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of dark nights, but I get too angry at the effrontery of upstarts to meekly accept whatever they want my fate to be. To me, hope has never been the thing with feathers fluttering in the deep recesses of the heart. Rather, it’s the thing that spits out a bloody tooth and wades back into the fight for another round.

Life has been a real fight lately, hasn’t it? We’ve all been well and truly in it, and there’s no end in sight. Here at the house attached to the studio, we’ve been dealing with medical crises and all the attendant crises that come along with needing urgent help. Don’t worry, it’s working out. Life was saved. Sickness was cured. Needed work is being done. But this past month has been scary and exhausting and expensive, recovery and caring are not yet finished, and neglected work, home, garden, etc., knocked into the proverbial cocked hat by personal disaster, are demanding to get back on the agenda. Time is ready to march on even if I’m not.

So, when all has fallen into confusion, when I’m hopelessly behind on every task, exhausted to the point that I can’t even sleep, and the 10,000 things rush to fill every hour of the day, I open my eyes and look for the patterns in the chaos. This is what I call magic. To find the hidden structures that reveal the sense of it all. Thus I orient myself, ground and center myself, and gradually regain control of my reality.

Art and storytelling are my arcane methods for that.

I cast spells to shine clear lights on dark things, draw boundaries, invoke powers, steer and shape energies, and explore mysteries – until I feel pulled together enough to stand stably on my feet again.

And this year, because we’re all really going through it, I’m sharing my magical explorations with all of you. From now through at least New Year – maybe to spring, I’ll see how it goes – I present “Finding Magic,” a small works series celebrating the winter months of 2025-2026.

Talismans and amulets, tiny things to accent a threshold or guard a book. Symbols of power, resilience, prosperity, emotions. Worlds in the palm of your hand. Portals to other realms. Small wishes to bring good things into challenging times.

In the northern hemisphere, where I live, winter is the season for new beginnings, containing as it does not one but four new years – the solar new year of the winter solstice, the astronomical new year at the close of the calendar, the planetary new year at Earth’s perihelion, and the lunar new year in February. It’s a season for resting and resetting, for looking back and ahead, for personal transformations, for the quiet inner work of healing and growth.

With “Finding Magic,” I invite you to come along with me as I do that work for myself and offer what I find to you.

There seems to be a trend – or I’d like there to be a trend – of artists celebrating the end of the year with affordable small works series to tell the story of the year that was. “Finding Magic” is about pulling ourselves together to wade back into the fight next year, stronger, refreshed, clear-eyed, and empowered.

It will be all small items in various media, priced for any budget at under $50 and under $100 depending on the piece. Follow this site for updates as new pieces are finished.

Jen Fries, Eye Amulets, pastel, watercolor, and ink on paper, roughly life-sized, $25 each, part of “Finding Magic.” Display, carry, use for ornament, journaling, or to ward off unwelcome pests and gossips. Email me if interested.


And if you happen to be in the Boston, Massachusetts, area this weekend, stop by the Brickbottom building in Somerville for our Open Studios event, November 22-23, 12-6pm. Info here. I’ll be in Unit C322, showing the first of the “Finding Magic” pieces along with larger works on similar themes.

In Season: Winter

Winter is a season of challenge and rest. It’s a time of stark beauty, quiet light, and endless space. In winter, we see right down to the fundamentals of things, and we make the most of what we’ve learned the rest of the year. Winter is the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next. Here are some paintings and collages, celebrating this season of contrasts. Happy Holidays!


Open Studios, November 23-24

You are cordially invited to visit with me at the Brickbottom Artists Open Studios event, this weekend, November 23 and 24, 12-5 PM each day.

Yes, I’m actually coming out of my house! I’ve been doing so much work that I decided to make one of my rare public appearances to show it off and tell people all about it. I’ll be displaying medium and small works on canvas, small works on paper, journaling/note cards, and tiny micro-zines, and I’ll be happy to answer questions and engage in sociable chit-chat.

Get event info here: Brickbottom.org.

Behold! A selection of the art I’m bringing to the event.

Meet and Greet the Artist

Technically, I’m not literally opening my studio. I’ve been a member of the Brickbottom Artists Association of Somerville since 2020, but I only live near, not in, the physical Brickbottom Artists Buildings. I’m what we call an Affiliate Member. (Though, to be honest, I’m really freaking close, just a few streets away.) So I am bringing my studio to you, thanks to a kind and generous resident who is hosting several Affiliates for this year’s event.

I’ll have pieces for exhibition and pieces for sale, and I’ll be there to say hi, chat you up, answer all your questions great and small, and generally make myself pleasant.

Start Your Holiday Shopping Early

This is a great chance to exploit my fever of experimentation, as I will be showing a wide selection of small artworks and handmade cards for mailing or journaling, all very easy to buy, carry home, and gift to loved ones or yourself.

Works on canvas are ready to hang. Art Books and micro-zines can take you on amazing journeys, as books do. Mini paintings can adorn any desk, wall, cork board, or table, easily. And journaling and note cards are the ideal chance to embrace Art as Lifestyle, with original, unique abstract paintings designed for work as journaling cards, bookmarks, or note cards.

Hand-painted abstracts for journaling, writing, or display.

Business Stuff

If you’d like to buy some of my art, please be advised I’m accepting cash only at the event.

Yes, I know, it’s terribly backward of me, but I do so few of these events that it would actually be less efficient to set up a system to process credit cards.

But I realize it’s inconvenient for many of you, so you can also buy art online, right now or any time between now and the end of the event on Sunday evening.

If there’s any art on this site you particularly like, email me, and I’ll let you know if it’s available and for what price. You can buy it online before the weekend and pick it up from me in person at the Brickbottom.

The journaling cards are $15 each, or buy three and get a fourth card free.

Be sure to ask me about any other special offers as well as ongoing or future projects on the event days.

Hope to see you there!

-Jen

Meet & Greet Event: Yart Sale


It has a kooky name, but it’s a fun event. In Somerville’s city-wide Yart Sale, Saturday, August 10th, the local arts community open up their yards and front porches for impromptu art exhibitions and sales. It’s a relaxed way to get to know your more boho neighbors, soak up the culture of Our Fair City, and maybe pick up something beautiful for your home or a gift. I’ll be participating again this year, showing new and favorite works.

Rain is predicted, but the forecasts so far think it will clear out well before noon on Saturday, so we should be good to go. Just in case, the rain date is Sunday, 8/11.

Visit the Somerville Arts Council Yart Sale page for event details and an interactive online map of all the participants, HERE.

I will be on my porch, 12:00 to 6:00PM, with a short break at around 3:00.

I’ll be showing paintings and collages, artist books, and tiny art that’s great for bookmarks, journaling, and notecards. If you will be in the Somerville area this weekend, do stop by for a meet-and-greet.

Preview:

Get to know the artist: Springtime Edition

Happy Vernal Equinox Day! I thought I’d celebrate the season with a selection of some new and older works on the seasonal theme. No explanations. Not in any particular order. Comments and questions are welcome.

Enjoy!

Spring time signs of life – new art and new directions

Hi, all. Hope you’re doing well. Spring is literally just around the corner, with the Vernal Equinox next Tuesday, March 19. I’m very excited about it because it’s been a windy late winter here in lovely Massachusetts, and I live and work in a creaky, old, 1870s triple-decker. Locals will know what that means. I am tired of being cold. Granted, we could have a freeze as late as May because New England, but I cling to the straws I find.

I have two new paintings to share. Behold!

Wind and clouds with gull, watercolor and collage

Dogwood buds with junco, watercolor and ink

These are both views from my studio window, originally sketched on the same day, at about 11:00 AM. They will be added to the Artrepreneur shop shortly.

They’re also both experiments in mounting watercolors on canvas. Painting watercolor on canvas is tricky. You have to treat the canvas with a specially mixed primer, called watercolor ground, but honestly, I don’t love it. I like my work to look and even feel a certain way, and watercolor ground is just not the surface texture I want. Plus, watercolor on ground is fragile. For me personally, it’s a lot of prep work for a substrate that’s not very stable, for a medium meant for a different surface. Many artists do amazing things with it, but it’s not my resonance.

But then I had one of my “Hey, wait a minute, Jen” thoughts. Don’t I build collages on canvas all the time?, I said to myself. Why yes, I do, now that you mention it, I said back to myself. So why don’t I mount some paper on some canvas and then paint on it? Duh!

So I’ve been experimenting.

Wind and Clouds with Gull is watercolor, gansai, pastel, pencils, and collage on rice paper on canvas.

Dogwood Buds with Junco is watercolor, gansai, pastel and ink on drawing paper on canvas.

More experiments are upcoming with other papers and media. I think this is going to be a regular thing. I really like it. The wheat paste I make for collage shrinks in drying, tightening up the canvas like a drum. Maybe I’ll make a video of it, so you can hear it. It results in a gorgeously flat surface with no buckling or cockling, and a finished work that’s ready to frame and hang. I can’t think why I never thought to use this for painting and drawing before. Silly me.

Anyway, that was the first big breakthrough of 2024.

I suppose the fact that they are paintings is kind of also a breakthrough. Collage is and always will be the most direct glimpse into how my brain works, but there’s actually a practical problem-solving reason why I am doing more mark-making work. I’ll write about that in future.

Other practical problems that need solving are being addressed this year as well. Watch this space for adjustments to the Newsletter and the Patreon, both of which will continue to be free, so you should totally sign up for them. There will also be new ways to acquire original, bespoke, Jen Fries artworks of your very own, so brace for joy on that front.

An Alchemy of Dragons will be undergoing some renovations, too. It turns out that writing a serialized novel is kind of like producing a reality series about a fictional series in which the characters build a suspension bridge, for which you actually build a suspension bridge. I’m bringing in co-protagonist Iarius Venzo as well as at least one subplot, and I’ve been quite literally at the engineering drawing board, because, you know, you can’t just do the thing. You can’t just sploop it out onto the internet. You have to build, design, construct – like a collage. Or a Werner Herzog movie.

I’ll write about that process in the near future, too.

Anyway… Spring!

-Jen

An Alchemy of Dragons, Ch. 6, is up for reading


Previously, in An Alchemy of Dragons, Erran Fox was forced to realize that the Divines of the Grand Temple had been right, and he must do at last what he should have done at first.

It’s time to hire a bard.

As he said to Sister Kathil and Brother Godre in Ch. 5, bards follow money, money flows through cities, and the nearest city to Chesny is Lorondrias.


Lorondrias, the City of Emerald Spires, capitol of the Duchy of Lorond, commanded the Bay of Jewels from a promontory above the Reed Lands, the vast delta where the Pontyd River flowed into the ocean, and trade flowed across Bodhael and the Sea of Llyr.


Read the full chapter, illustrated, here.



I had fun with the illustrations for Ch. 6. As we travel farther abroad with Erran, we are getting to see more of the world of Aeldreth and its magic. We even get our first glimpse of Erran himself.

The view of Lorondrias in the Chapter initial is inspired by the woodcut engravings of the Nuremberg Chronicle, an illustrated encyclopedia published in 1493, establishing the general style of this part of the story’s world.

Erran’s clothes and the building ornament around the owls hint at the style of magic as well. Protection is less a matter of armor to deflect blows and bars to keep out intruders, and more about eye circles, colors, and complicated patterns to control the energies. So expect things to continue fancy as we progress.

And let me know in comments or on the Community page if you recognize the species of owls hanging out at the Golden Owl theater.

-Jen

Magical Art for Halloween – Hunter’s Moon collages and a magic fantasy flight

October is the Hunter’s Moon, and this week, it was big and bright, and lit up the broken clouds in silver and gold. I decided to celebrate with some collages.

I’ve been deep in painting for the Alchemy of Dragons illustrations, so it’s been a while since I did a collage, which has been a mainstay of my work for many years. It was interesting to compare the two processes.

Painting is straightforward. I sketch and plan. Finalize the image. Recreate or transfer the line art to the painting surface. Select the palette. Do the doing. It takes as long as it takes.

Collage takes its time, too, but it’s a wilder ride. It’s a deep dive into my mind. It’s like memory recovery hypnosis. It’s like dream analysis. Nothing is planned or designed. A vision is in my head – a thing is seen or thought – and wants to become art. In this case, it’s a real-life thing, the Moon on the 28th of October, 2023.

The actual Moon, photographed from my studio on the night in question.

But I didn’t draw a picture of it. I didn’t try to recreate the object of the Moon. I wanted to express the feelings it gave me. Complicated feelings and several of them.

I wanted to pull that Moon down to me, big and close, the way it felt when I looked up and the distance between me and it melted away. The clouds parting, and my little neighbors in their roosts, touched by its light. Taking a night walk, soaking up that cool glow amid autumn wind and flying leaves, in the season of witchery and ghosts.

I can’t sketch that out. I have to wander my way to such an image. I have to find the hooks to draw it out, piece by piece, to turn the ephemeral into the material. So I hit the collage files.

I pulled out papers, vintage clips, found materials, searching for pieces of what was brewing in the old noggin, anything that resonated in the moment. Dark blues and a rich black. Oh, look, some gold tissue paper, just like the clouds that night. A scrap of a copy of some Japanese textiles, this will give me the leaves I want. Wait – what stars are up this month? Consult the Old Farmer’s Almanac! Collect paint, ink, pencils. Cook some paste.

I pulled out so much stuff, and then began the process of combining and recombining, adjusting and problem-solving until two stories emerged. One on paper. One on canvas.

Hunter’s Moon and Cassiopeia, collage on canvas, Jen Fries
Admiring the Moon, collage on paper, Jen Fries

It took up my whole freaking workspace, much to the annoyance of Studio Assistant Princess Lunalynx, who likes to nap in the sun on the main table. Holy smokes, there was a lot of clean-up. I’m still holding out the unused materials, in case more Moon or Halloween ideas come to me – the ripples and echoes still bouncing around.

Collage will always be a vital part of my creative practice because it teaches me about myself. The process of selection and composition mirrors the way my mind works and how I construct my ideas. Chaotic. Messy. Quirky. Full of references. And of the school that says that even the most unrealistic image will be realistic if it captures the real essence of a thing – if it speaks to a person’s emotions – if it makes you feel like you were there, like you had that dream, too.

Anyway, that’s the goal.

These works will be added to the Artworks gallery and my shop very soon.


I did the Alchemy Chapter 6 illustration, too. I’ll talk more about this and its accompanying chapter initial in another blog post, but for now, thrill to the world’s first glimpse of our main protagonist, Erran Fox.

Here he is, with Squirrel Nutkin and the aura-horse Maedrephon, flying towards the sunset, in search of a bard who can charm dragons.

… flew the distance as fast as the wind itself …
pen and wash in pastels, on paper

Chapter 6 is expected to hit the website by the end of this week. Watch this site.


Our Halloween is a little pauce this year. We’ve had too many headaches and joint issues, both me and My Sainted Mother, too many distractions, and too much disappointment with our fellow humans.

But I still found some moons and some magic. Plus, I see it’s 1:30 AM as of this writing. The day is young.

Happy Halloween!

-Jen