I've mentioned before my addiction to art and design -- it's a sickness, really.  I follow about 200 blogs daily, and a considerable percentage of them are written by artists.  When you follow that many, you start to think, of course, you've cornered the market on great artist's blogs, until you start to realize that's a pretty arrogant mindset, given that there are just so many artists and so many blogs out there.

While I was in Chicago for BlogHer this summer, I shared a hotel room with the amazing Jen Lee, one of the most beautiful writers I know in real life. As soon as we'd checked into our hotel, we wandered to a nearby grill for some much-needed lunch, and our conversation turned to journaling.

Art is subjective; it can be quantified as being beautiful, inspirational or for the early painters a form of reporting the events of the day. Kitsch is more like syrup on top of ice cream. It is of the heart, the emotions and a strong dose of guilty pleasures. There are times when it is hard to tell what is art and what is kitsch.

My father collects frogs.No, not real frogs.  Like, ceramic frogs.  Glass frogs.  Frogs made by famous crystal designers, like Lalique and Waterford.  Intricately-made frogs fashioned by friends with great detail out of discarded aluminum foil.  And these frogs are all over the house.  It's done tastefully-enough -- it's not like he's a hoarder -- in fact, you barely realize the frogs are there, until you look.  But once you notice, you realize it's like a Plague of Egypt up in there.  Of course, when your name is "Kermitt," you're sort of forgiven for having the Largest Frog Collection in the World.

This past weekend, instead of resting as is tradition on Labor Day here in the United States, I set to work on redecorating my studio.  (I also set to work on making my husband help me, on this his Labor Day holiday as well.  I am abusive, I know).  In coming up with my new decorating scheme, there were particular aspects on which I was very certain.  I was quick to decide, for example, that the colour of my walls would be "Beach Water."  I knew that the grey carpet I bought at IKEA for $29.99 would be perfect.  I even knew that I wanted to arrange the books in my bookshelves according to the colour of their spines.What I was conflicted about, however, was how to hang my art.

I've mentioned before that my husband Marcus and I have been pretty avid art collectors.  It's not like we own Picassos or Monets or anything, but we own a lot of art, purchased, for the most part, when we travel.  Some of the pieces were pricey, but others are just the works of local artists -- sometimes even street artists --  of various cities where we've vacationed.  We just buy what we like.

I am no artist.  Don't get me wrong:  I'm a photographer, and feel pretty comfortable with my ability to capture a pretty picture, but ask me to draw a face, and you'll wonder how I ever passed Kindergarten art class.  It's really quite stunning to me that I'm able to take pictures from all sorts of angles and perspectives, but ask me to draw a building from any sort of perspective other than straight on, I'm at a loss.

My friend Beth is currently in the process of re-writing her book, Healthy Mother, Healthy Child.  Beth is both a registered nurse and a certified yoga instructor, and her book is basically about how to create a peaceful, healthy environment in your home, all with an eye to reducing the number of health-related problems or issues for you and/or your family.  It includes tips on healthy eating, alternative, complementary therapies to Western medicine, and creating a peaceful home through ritual and a focus on family life.  As part of the rewrite, she has invited me to contribute some images to her book, and this morning she invited me to her house to take a few shots.

I got my first tattoo when I was 25, and I still love it.

As I type this, late on a Wednesday evening, I'm safely ensconced in a little studio apartment in the East Village of New York City.  My daughter is asleep on an unfolded futon, my husband is surfing the web next to me.  We've just spent the day with friends in various park playgrounds, capping it off with a delicious meal in a local New York restaurant, and a delicious chai tea in a tiny little coffee house on a quiet little residential street.I could get use to living in the Big Apple, I think.

It was 100 degrees in Houston today.  Did you hear me?  ONE HUNNID DEGREES.  And it's just JUNE.  It's been like this for the past week or so, and there seems to be no end in sight -- just sunshine and heat for days on end.  I shudder to think what July and August are going to be like around here.As a result, everything is starting to turn a dismaying shade of brown.  Personal lawns are still somewhat green (as we rack up our water bills), but the wild woods and other green spots are beginning to struggle.  People are staying indoors in the airconditioned coolness.  It's hard to enjoy nature when it's baking outside -- we Houstonians will wait until late September when it starts to cool down again, thank you very much.Luckily for us, I've noticed a trend in art lately:  incorporating imagery and lines borrowed from nature in prints and other beautiful decorative arts.   These beautiful pieces might be just the things to surround yourself when you can't bear to get outside in harsh or inclement weather.

One of my new recent interests is volunteering at a local fine arts museum once a week.  Recently, as part of my work, I came across an exhibit of beautiful jewelry, with designs from the early part of the twentieth century up to the present.  The exhibit was part of a collection previously donated by a patron of the museum.  And looking at the pieces were eye-opening.