Who wants to be pen pals this summer?
What are you reading? What are you listening to? Are you traveling? What are you growing? I’m feeling like this is the summer of postcards by the pool.
rebecca zarazan
PO Box 191
Lawrence, KS 66044
irises last spring 35mm
I’m starting to think luck is attention and intention.
Also thinking a bit about rage, creativity, and the reliance of women and mothers, missing my mother too. Mira came up behind me on Sundays saying, “I have your Mother’s Day present..” I turned around to outstretched hands holding a birds nest. This best nest. Sweet kid. I wish my mom could have heard Lorelei’s flute solo at her concert last week. She also played the flute (and is a cancer too). Her rose is about to bloom any day now. The roses are blooming. The wood thrush is singing on the river.
I’m noticing a reoccurrence of windows in my images, which makes sense because the majority of last year I was home bound. It’s curious looking back and noticing where the focus is. Is it in the looking through? The reflection? The frame? The pane? 🪟
December 2025 on 35 mm
My neighborhood is floating on clouds of mock orange and mystery roses.🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
I wonder if these two plants were shared between neighbors in the yesteryears? I kinda love thinking about the planting of community. The hope of it all.
The first image was taken on film last May and others are from my phone this morning.🌸
Ps.
Does anyone know the name of this mystery rose? It looks like a Galicia..
I keep thinking about this line Ken Lassman wrote: “It is spring and I plant my thoughts on paper in a chair/And dream of tornadoes full of flowers.”
These April days of tornado wails, sunlace, saturation, hail and hounding, birdsong blue, leafing, crawling, climbing, bloom. Everything at once. Tornadoes full of flowers.
120mm photos from late winter and last spring.
A few process pics of the print available in my shop.
In winter 2025, I started printing in cyanotypes using flowers pressed the summer before I fell ill. Cyanotype requires UV light to expose and in January the UV level of the sun is extremely low, so I’d leave prints out atop the snow for long stretches of time. I was regaining mobility and slow moving too.
When the following season came around, I started printing with live plants in bloom on any given day in the garden . This practice became a dance with the garden.
This original is 30 x 22 in collaboration with poppy, larkspur, dara, feverfew, and sunshine June 16, 2025 🌸🌿
I have news! My art can be viewed online at rebeccazarazan.com!
In the early phases of this digitizing project, I started writing about my experience coming back to life through art which I turned into a zine titled: a letter of seasons. That zine paired with an 8.5 x 11 archival print available in my website shop.
I’m forever grateful to the wizard and wonderful human @mattkirkland for getting this website up.
Thank you for your support and encouragement over the past week as I creep out of my shell sharing this work with you ♥️
In the depths of winter last year, I started printing in cyanotype, using previously pressed flowers from before I fell ill. The process of cyanotype requires UV light to print and in January the UV level is extremely low, so I’d leave prints under grey skies atop snow for long stretches of time. I was regaining mobility and slow moving at the time, so the process matched my ability. As summer came around, I started printing with live plants in bloom on any given day. This practice became a dance with the garden.
This print is 30x22in from June last year. Can you see the specs of star seeds spilling from the queen anne’s lace?
