This weekend, May 2 & 3, 12-6 pm, is Somerville Open Studios, the biggest arts event in our quaint and scenic town. Naturally, I’m behind my time in letting you all know about it, but such is me.
I’ll be turning my front porch into a mini exhibition celebrating the spring season, its moods, symbols, weather, and magic, featuring our wild city rabbits among others.
Weather Note: The forecast is for “chance” of rain this weekend. Please subscribe to this website or follow me on Bluesky to receive updates in case I get rained out on Saturday or Sunday.
You can also see my collage-assemblage, “Pink Yarrow,” at Somerville Museum, and a new collage-painting, “April,” at the Brickbottom Gallery, both indoors.
Enjoy a sneak peak at some new works in progress, which I hope to bring out for SOS.
On the magic of rabbits.
Rabbit, bring me luck. Rabbit, bring me many. Rabbit, bring me happiness, But for my foe, not any.
That little ditty is my pitch for wild rabbits as a role model for our times, because they symbolize the four powers we all need right now. Good luck to get through the storms. Abundance to meet our needs, one way or another. Joy in love and pleasure. Resilience to take the blows and never back down because, dammit, these are our streets.
I think, for most people, spring is a cutesy-pootsy season of flowers and baby animals, but I see it differently.
To me, spring is a time when the new forcibly replaces the old, dead, and rotten. Spring brings out the big passions and changes everything, ready or not. It’s births and beginnings. It’s melting and mess. It’s bright colors and clean green shoots pushing through the mud. It’s migrating birds, emerging bees, and for me, it’s the rabbits.
The old rabbits of winter, scarred, skinny, and strong. The new rabbits like delicate treasures nested in our flower beds.
Rabbits making the first of many babies. Rabbits dodging a thousand dangers. Rabbits robbing our gardens, lounging in the sun, grooming their tiny little faces with their tiny little paws (omg). Rabbits waging war all over town to claim and defend their territories, be they lush parks or weedy train yards.
If I have my way, it’ll be all lush parks and gardens, because where the rabbits thrive, so can we.
-Jen
Note: This post contains 407 words, which according to western numerology, reduces to 11 and then to 2. In tarot, 11 is the number of Justice in some systems and Strength in others, and 2 is the number of The High Priestess. Justice, Strength, and Wisdom.
This evening, as I was walking home with our New Year’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 don’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 didn’t try to mess with it in the malicious way of those humans who think others’ 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. They’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 I’ve been having.
A headline from one of the 2025 wrap-up articles I have set aside to read later says, “This year ended better than it started.”
I agree. Granted, the landscape is still rolling dumpster fires as far as the eye can see, and if I were betting on it, I’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.
There’s no particular event that makes me think this. It’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.
When first you see the full moon’s light, Say “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit” thrice For a month of fortune, joyous and bright.
I know I’ve had enough. My list of Things I’m Done With is long. I’m done with billionaires and maga, with marketing and media, with all the corporate shenanigans and snake oil. Just frikkin done.
And I’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 I’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 they’re ready. Until they feel like it. That’s when they make their move. That’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 don’t need to go over it all here. If you follow me, then you probably also follow the news. It’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 won’t say we’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 life’s too short to be long about the forms of it. Whatever comes, I know we can make the most of it.
I’ll put that up over my desk as a motto for the year. “Whatever it is, make the most of it.”
Naturally, I have big plans, but I make no promises now. Between the world and the dramas we’ve survived, we are embracing a lot of change here at the studio and attached apartment, so I have no idea what I’ll do or when. I’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 couldn’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 don’t bet against themselves.
Happy New Year, everyone! Let’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.
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.
But if the trees fall, where will the birds sleep?
What will hold the flood? Embrace the Earth?
Draw the soul from my bones so that someday
someday
I might yet get a chance to pay my debts?
Be kind to the trees, Wind
For if they do not stand, I can’t walk
Written during a series of gusting storm fronts that swept through my city over several days. March came in like the proverbial lion this year. I wrote this while the wind howled, my house swayed, the dogwood branches clawed across my windows in the dark, and I just had one request.
Which was granted, after all.
The illustration is a small painting in ink and watercolor.
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!
Some of you may recognize this tree, if you’ve ever visited Sequoia National Park in California. It is one of the ancient redwoods of North America, over 2500 years old, the largest currently living tree, by volume, in the world. It is named for the American Civil War General, William Tecumseh Sherman. And it is one of the US’s natural treasures living under threat from climate change.
In 2021, staff and scientists of the National Park Service rushed to protect the General Sherman tree and many other giant redwoods when the KNP Complex wildfire burned through Sequoia National Park. Now, redwoods are adapted to fire and even depend on seasonal burnings to release their seeds. But climate change is making wildfires more frequent and more intense every year, and the 2021 fires were beyond anything recorded in the park before. No one knew if the trees could withstand the heat that was destroying everything else.
But survive they did, with bells on. In fact, after the fire, dormant buds of new branches, some dormant more than 1000 years, awakened and sprouted, among other amazing demonstrations of resilience and adaptation.
Faced with the relentless onslaught of bad news these past several years, I thought of the redwoods, and how nature provides inspiring and encouraging examples for every occasion. Adapt and thrive is the message here.
I believe that humanity has the inner strength to get through our challenges, much as the trees survived the fires of 2021. The struggle is far from over, but they are still standing, and so are we, still able to choose a better way forward.
I made this work to celebrate that strength. It belongs to my ongoing series on climate change. And of all the great trees, I chose to portray the General Sherman because, after all, he triumphed through fire, too, didn’t he?
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.
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.
Brickbottom and Joy Street Open Studios, Nov. 23 & 24
End of November Web Forecast: Expect an unseasonably heavy flurry of update posts from yours truly for the rest of this week.
Okay, it’s been a period of time. My last post was made the night before Election Day in the US, and by now, we all know how it turned out. Sigh.
I just want to say that, for me, nothing has changed from what I wrote then. I chose hope. I’m not googling how to change my mind after the fact, like many maga voters reportedly did. You can read the full pre-election post here, if you missed it earlier.
However, when I say I choose hope, don’t expect any pollyanna-ist reassurances here at Jen Fries Arts. No fluttering of the thing with feathers. That’s not my scene. My style of hope is the kind that spits out a bloody tooth and wades back into the fray, because where there’s a will, there’s a way, and I will be damned if I ever give up on what I know to be right.
Of course, it’s all been terribly inconvenient. There were emergency jettisons of certain social and personal connections, some of whom wouldn’t leave quietly. I still feel physically like I’ve been in a car accident. There’s My Sainted Mom who feels just as bad and just as pissed off. And on top of everything else, the cat’s been poorly, poor baby.
All of it utterly derailed what was supposed to have been a whole month of prep and info for my Open Studios event, which is scheduled to start – checks notes – frikkin this weekend. November 23 and 24.
So this is just to get you all caught up. Expect an unusual-for-me rush of posts about the Brickbottom and Joy Street Open Studios weekend here in quaint and romantic Somerville, MA. Also some website and shop updates. I’ll be doing all this work tonight and tomorrow, basically. Apologies in advance, but the new info will be good for you to have.
For starters:
Open Studios, November 23 and 24, at the Brickbottom Artists Building, 1 Fitchburg Street, Somerville, MA.
I’ll be sharing space with some colleagues in Unit B450, in the Bakery Building of the Brickbottom complex.
I seldom do these kinds of events, so this will be a rare opportunity to see me outside my little stoat burrow. I’ll be showing small to medium works on canvas or paper, hand-painted journaling cards, some micro-zines, and maybe some hand-made art books if I can finish them on time. I’m also up for chit-chat about methods, styles, affordability, sustainability, and life in the zombie apocalypse.
So if you’re around then and there, come on by. Info at Brickbottom.org.
I joined Bluesky as an alternative to Facebook, but I am still also on Facebook and Patreon. Of course, it’s all just social media with the usual nonsense, so …
Become a Subscriber.
I encourage everyone to subscribe for free to this website, comment on posts, and follow my projects and articles free of algorithmic interference.
Click the little blue WordPress Follow button at the bottom of this and every page to subscribe. And don’t forget to set your notifications preferences, because another upcoming update is that this blog will also serve as my newsletter, with a monthly round-up and other exclusive subscriber content in the new year.
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.
Jen Fries Arts 