whoa. March kinda flew by all on it’s own accord pretty much. I was swamped with work at the beginning of the month and finally got a bit of a break around the middle of the month… only to get whomped (hard!) by a lovely cold virus that Johnny Handsome brought home with him from work. I took to my poorly bed for a few days, knocked flat. Sniffles and a teensy bit of a cough still linger, but I’m well on the mend now. And good thing too, cuz work is picking up again and April’s looking busy.
Here’s my flickr faves for March. I’m actually quite enjoying doing these… it’s interesting to see what was occupying my brain that month and I think it’s clearly evident in my flickr faves. This month I was all about spring blossoms. There’s a magnolia tree down at the end of the street that busted out in buds about two weeks ago. Every day on the way to walk the woof, I swing by, watching for the pink wonder that will someday spring forth. I love magnolia trees. I want to get one for my back yard this year FOR SURE (I think this every year).
The bright orange and pink combo I was besotted with in Feb. has given way to pink and green, with cherry blossoms all over. And daffodils, great trumpeting, endlessly cheerful daffodils. And the simplicity of white. I’m consumed with sort of romantic, white washed cottage, English garden, fairy tale yearnings and imagine myself in dainty pin tucked blouses in soft luminous petal colors and feminine, strappy shoes (the kind I do not currently and likely will never own). I so long for true spring, i can’t even tell you. The little lilac bush I planted last year is showing lime green budlets, but that’s about it. I fantasize endlessly about stapling spritely green crepe paper leaves to the tree out front. Instead, I settle for surfing online about plants I want to plug into my life as soon as it is warm enough. Cosmos, dahlias possibly, flowering vines a plenty. Coneflower and buddliah to lure in butterflies. Hellebores and hostas for the shadier parts of the yard. Bleeding hearts like the ones my mom grew. O, spring! HURRY!
So…. I’ve been toiling away here till all hours of the night lately. work, work, work. Which is all good, but I’ve been grateful for a bit of break the past two days… if only because I desperately needed to do some laundry and other assorted, seriously banal household stuff. And you know, just take a break from sitting in this chair for hours and hours on end. I’m hoping to get a couple of hours today to work on personal work (um, yeah, so you think I could possibly work the word “work” in here any more?! possible?)
Whilst (whilst!) I’m toiling away, there are usually a couple times a day when I hit send and have 15 minutes or an hour while I wait for client feedback or approval. Often I use these breaks to do things like, well, you know, pee and eat dinner and stuff… but sometimes I just sit here and draw, waiting for the mailbox ping that tells me my client has approved the design and I can get back to it . This is one of the sketches I did last week over the course of a couple of days. I don’t know where the Japanese influence came from, though I suspect it was from my exhaustive searching of the net for paper lantern examples. I was actually looking for Mexican Fiesta lanterns, but inevitably came across lots of Japanese paper lanterns. And I got into this feathery line thing that was just fun to practice, though once again, true to form, I overworked this sketch and should’ve stopped and put it away about an hour before I did. But whatever. I still sort of like this, or the idea of it, and am filing it as an idea for future personal work. (sketch is ballpoint pen on bond paper)
Happy Friday all! Don’t work too hard!
up above: photo composite from my latest obsession, photographing bubbles trapped in ice. And my latest Flickr Faves as we move into Spring and I yearn for pops of color and blossoms. Am once again completely and utterly swamped with work and stuff. send cupcakes.
OMGAWD. The Handsome Guy and I just got back from seeing Coraline in Real 3-D and it was absolutely and utterly astounding. I cannot explain how good. Just promise me you will go see it! In 3-D. You have to see it in 3-D. I promise you, your jaw will bounce off your knees, upsetting your popcorn. And you won’t mind one bit. Warning though: I think the subject matter is too dark for children under eight, even though there were children younger than that in the theatre when we saw it.
wow. what an achievement. what an experience!
P.S. Sorry I have been so absent of late. Have been working day and night on a bear of a project and am swamped for the rest of the month. Today is the first whole day I’ve taken off in over two weeks and I’ll be back at it tomorrow.
I meant to post something different today, but is dark and wet and grey today and there is not enough light for me to get a good photo of that particular something (actually somethings with the mysterious and enticing s on the end). So instead, I’ll post the first of a series I’m starting for my own amusement: Accidental Art.
These are shots of my paint splattered drawing table. It’s an ever changing tableau of smears and drips and I noticed the other day that these “accidents” are often more evocative and beautiful then my intentional art. I guess that that statement of fact is kind of sad, but instead I chose to be glad that I have the power to spot the happy accidents and see the beauty in them. (woo hoo. Look at me being all Pollyanna and stuff! Take that February blahs!!)
Okay. I thought about just popping this baby in here and not making any comment whatsoever, leaving you all to muse quietly “um, has she lost it completely now? What in the name of all that is holy (right/crunchy/spackled with plaster/insert-your-own-word-here) is POW CORN?!!” But then something else prevailed (common sense? a Nor’ Easterly wind?) and I decided to explain it. This is a cheap and cheerful snack label I made yesterday for my client’s meeting, a meeting about an event which will be based on super heros and comic books. There is another one (Power Pellets!), but I prefer this one. It speaks to me. It says things which are rowdy, rambunctious, colourful and FUN. I haven’t had a whole lot of any of that in my life recently, but looking at this label, it makes me think that someday, maybe, when the stars align just right and the economy is restored and Britney Spears is a grandmother and there are leaves on trees and not just endless snow and cold, I just might get a handful of it (it being colourful POW CORN fun).
Also, I have discovered it is quite amusing to repeat POW CORN to your dog in various different inflections. It seems to make her really happy and waggy. Also seems to make her think that it’s time for a W-A-L-K or failing that, food. Not sure what the affect on cats would be, but if you have a cat immediately available to you and want to give it a go, be sure to report back with the results!
So there you have it. Hope your weekend is POWerful good fun, all.
It would be practically impossible to overstate how completely besotted I am with the ceramic stylings of Megan Bogonovich. I completely understand why all those beskirted women are trying to wiggle their way into her ceramic wonders. When I look at them, I am absolutely overcome with the mad desire to climb inside and set up home. I cannot thank Susan of Artstream Studios and Art Esprit enough for introducing Megan’s whimsical wonders to me. Or thank Susan enough for introducing her exceedingly wonderful self to me at Squam Art Workshops 2008 last September. Susan has a magical way of making my every day just that much brighter, lighter and hopeful.
I swear I am not trying to sell you anything, but I love this commercial. It was only shown in Canada, so a lot of you might never have seen it. I love the flavor of it, love the tune, the expression on her face, her braids, the way her feet never touch the ground. That’s my kinda kid. And you know, it’s the day after the Super Bowl (which I did not watch as I just don’t get football at all. Hockey, yes. Football, no.) and traditionally the day when everyone talks about the Super Bowl commercials
which of course air only in America and so it is sorta nice to have an only in Canada commercial to flaunt.
This is one of my favourite photos ever found on Flickr and it certainly sums up my feelings right now. I didn’t take it. It’s by Bucharest photographer Camil Tulcan. You can find more of his gorgeous work here. And below, a round up of some of my Flickr Faves. I think I’ll do this once a month. It’s a lot of work popping in all those links, man, but I think the original photographers deserve credit for their photos and the inspiration they provided me!
My agenda today: wash my hair, walk my dog and spend the rest of the day painting. And sneaking Hershey’s kisses. I swear the red foil wrapped ones taste better than the silver.
4) mum for eating
5) cherry blossoms
9) alien flower
10) snowy flake
11) sixth snowflake
13) Hopeful Winter
14) Pennsylvania snowflake
16) tessella forum reverse
17) sparkly k
18) sparkly k
20) When I said
21) A book I’m reading
24) snowflake curtain
25) cally creates
26) rhododendron on wire
27) howl at the moon
28) matryushka stones
29) window grill
30) 1st of december
31) sky butterfly blue
32) snowy fox
33) juj’s photo
36) sweet salty kitchen
I have become obsessed with paper snowflakes. Actually, I’ve become obsessed with the fine art of paper cutting in general, but am completely intimidated by some of the work I’ve seen so snowflakes seemed to be an ideal way to a) ease myself into the paper cutting scene and b) embrace winterness in general. “Cuz you just can’t fight it. I tried this morning out in the walk, but we’re in the midst of ANOTHER snowstorm and beautiful though it was (total winter wonderland), it was coming down at such a rate that I was afraid that my car was gonna get sunk in a drift and the wolf and I would be stranded in the park forever and ever. Especially as I had forgotten my cellphone. That might not seem like such a bad thing (being stuck in the park forevah and evah) but eventually one of us would get hungry. And there’s nothing in the park to eat aside from rabbit poo and pinecones.
Anyhooo…. there’s some more photos of my paper snowflakes on my flickr site here: Snowflake Set And of course there are a number of Flickr groups devoted to paper snowflakes and some devoted to the real kind too.
Camilla Engman provides a great snowflake cutting tutorial on her Studio Violet site here in case you need a refresher and if you just can’t be bothered with locating paper and scissors, give the virtual kind of snipping a whirl at Make-A-Flake . The bonus with the Make-a-Flake site is that you can save your snowflake as a jpeg (you can also save it as an eps too apparently though I haven’t had any luck with that) and then use your jpeg image to make Photoshop brushes.
How do you turn it into a Photoshop Brush? It’s super easy in Photoshop CS3. All you do is create a layer for your snowflake jpeg, drag it over there, select the snowflake shape (using the magic wand, lasso, or the box selection tool), click on the brush tool in the toolbox… then go to the top menu under “Edit” and scroll down to “Define Brush Set”. And voila! You’ve got yourself a handy dandy snowflake brush and a reason to justify the hours you while away playing Make-a-Flake. ‘Cuz you never know when you are going to need 968 special and unique snowflakes right?
On a sad note, I feel I should make comment on the recent passings of two of my all time idols, John Updike and Andrew Wyeth. There’s a great obit to John Updike here. He made me drunk on words, on New England, on the power of the everyday. I still think that the A&P (read the short story here) is one of the finest short stories ever written. And Andrew Wyeth… I have to say I really didn’t think that much about him until I saw his Helga paintings and then I was enraptured. When we moved here to Southern Ontario and the first Novemeber drew near, I saw his paintings in the landscape all around me and fell in love anew. His father, the great Golden Age illustrator, N.C. Wyeth is also one of my idols, perhaps an even greater influence than his son, and the idea of three generations of incredible American artists (Andrew’s son Jamie is also a painter as you probably know) has always thrilled me.
Two unforgettable New Englanders, American legends, felled within weeks of each other. But their work has changed my world, made it better and deeper and richer and will continue to do so for as long as I live.
okay, so here’s the deal: Maybe you have noticed that I haven’t been blogging a lot recently. There are reasons for that. December was kind of brutal for me emotionally as perhaps was to be expected. First birthday without my mother, first Christmas without my mother. And things started sliding sideways then rapidly downhill with my dad and his health. I’m hoping that things are on the upswing again, but the reality is my brother and I are having to confront some very hard realities and it’s not an easy thing to do in the wake of our mother’s death.
I’m dealing with loss on an hourly basis, trying to keep my wounds sewn up, keep myself whole, keep myself together. The threads binding me together at the moment are tenuous, easily tugged out, easily dissolved with tears. I soldier on. I keep working to mend the split seams, keep weaving that needle in and out, and I will keep doing it as long as I have to because I promised my mother I would not let this wreck me, that I would move forward, that I would live fully. But it’s hard work. It’s exhausting. There are lovely gracious people in my life who thread the needle for me sometimes, who patch me up when they can, as gently as they can, and I am so grateful for them and don’t tell them how much I appreciate it nearly enough. Ultimately, though, I’m the only one who can repair my gutted middles, heal my hurts.
But the thing is, my life, my woe, is not really something I want to share here. Recounting every stitch is not helpful to me right now. I don’t want to become all about my pain. That’s not really my nature. I’m a bit of a Pollyanna at heart. I’m the glass half full type, an optimist albeit a sort of left-handed optimist. At least I used to be. At least that’s how I remember myself. And I liked that about myself. I don’t want to become the antithesis of that. There is so much sad in the world already, so much sorrow.
And so I avoid this space when I’m coming all undone, unravelled. I avoid this space when I am in the process of trying to knit myself whole again. And on those occasions when I feel sufficiently patched up enough to move a little bit forward, to make some headway, I do just that… and only that. And again, this page lays untouched.
And yet I’m not willing to let it go right now. I’m not willing to shut down shop, turn out the lights. In a way this site keeps me in touch with my better self, the self I strive to be. It is my window on the world, the chink of light which falls to reveal that I have not disappeared all together, I have not evaporated into nothing. Not yet, anyway.
So I’ve been in a mild dither about what to do with it. What can I do that says in a friendly way I’m still here, I’m still trying, I’m still breathing in and out every day, I’m still sewing, I’m still hoping… and yet doesn’t tax my sore brain, my strained seams, my flagging energy?
I’ve decided to give this a go: I’m not going to try to write in a personal way any more. For the time being at least. I’m not going to attempt to journal what is going on with me, where I’m at. Instead, I’m going to post here the little things that make me feel a tiny bit better, prop them up here like a bright pot of flowers on my windowsill. And hope that that is enough to encourage the sun to seek me out sometimes.
On The Radio lyrics
This is how it works
It feels a little worse
Than when we drove our hearse
Right through that screaming crowd
While laughing up a storm
Until we were just bone
Until it got so warm
That none of us could sleep
And all the styrofoam
Began to melt away
We tried to find some words
To aid in the decay
But none of them were home
Inside their catacomb
A million ancient bees
Began to sting our knees
While we were on our knees
Praying that disease
Would leave the ones we love
And never come again
On the radio
We heard November Rain
That solo’s really long
But it’s a pretty song
We listened to it twice
‘Cause the DJ was asleep
This is how it works
You’re young until you’re not
You love until you don’t
You try until you can’t
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again
And on the radio
You hear November Rain
That solo’s awful long
But it’s a good refrain
You listen to it twice
‘Cause the DJ is asleep
On the radio
by Regina Spektor
the kind of artist I want to be when I grow up.
fall in love with her here
Yes, Darlings… time to fold in the blog for some merry making and stuff. I may be back before the New Year… then again, maybe not. Regardless, I wish you a season of good cheer, health, love, laughter, friendship and cookies. And mayhaps also some really nice stripey sox. Merry, Merry!