radiant crust

My Steampunk Tarot Cards are ready to go ...

2012-01-21T13:05:00.000-08:00

Since my cards are on their way to the organizer of the Steampunk Tarot project, I think it's safe to reveal them. I worked simultaneously on both the Page of Gears (gears replacing pentacles/coins in this deck) and the Seven of Daggers. Whenever I got stuck on some design quibble for one (or the paint needed to dry), I shifted over to the other card to keep things moving. Just as I finished my cards, the organizer asked me if I'd like to take on another one to cover for someone who had to drop out, so I took on Strength as well.

I enjoy the process of creating these cards. I like to do a fair bit of research before I start because many of the participants actually use them for readings, so it's important to get the perfect blend of maintaining some connection with Tarot decks past, while keeping in touch with the theme of the deck. The first thing I did is find as many different visual references as possible from previous decks and look for A) things I have half a chance of being able to draw and B) things that can be tweaked to fit the current Steampunk theme. Part of the project included writing the text for the card, so a lot of reading on past Tarot decks is useful too ~ again because people will be using our cards for more than artistic appreciation.

My cards are a blend of: A) images I CAN draw, B) textures I can create, C) printed papers, D) clipart and E) stamped images. For instance the backgrounds on all three cards were created using background photos or printed paper .... on the Strength card the city seen through the porthole is a photo of old Budapest ... for the Seven of Daggers I printed the text and clipart lanterns straight onto an old map ... on the Page of Gears the background is a skymap of the Milky Way.

One of the fun 'hidden' things on each card for me is some paper I made when I was playing with layered paint. I'm a big chicken when it comes to layering paint. I almost always hate what I make ~ and this time was no exception. I painted a couple of sheets of cardstock with gesso and then layered on black paint, red paint, more gesso, more paint, splodging with sponges ... uh oh ... seriously ugly paper and I chucked it aside ... till I started this project. While scrounging around my piles of papers for something I realized my Ugly Paper had Great Texture, it was just the Wrong Colour. I took out my Caran D'Ache crayons and had a go at it ... and hey ... this has potential.

On the Strength card, the texture became the perfect 'hammered' metal for the wall and floor of the dirigible she's riding in. On the Seven of Daggers, I divided the walkway into bricks and accented the brick edges ... et voila ... a stone floor. For the Page of Gears, I redrew the Page (remember my drawing from my last post?) onto the textured page, and then Caran D'Ache'd the coat red, the pants blue, the hat and boots brown. I could never get the face light enough so I gesso'd over those sections and added skin colour. I guess the moral of the story is: save the ugly stuff, you'll never know when it'll be just what you're looking for.

I can hardly wait to see the rest of the cards in this deck. This is the first project I've been involved in where we've done the WHOLE deck ~ a rare treat, and a theme I really like, too.

Work in Progress - yet another Tarot deck ...

2011-12-29T14:36:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd share a sketch for a work in progress. I was invited to participate in another Tarot deck (one of my secret obsessions). This project had TWO added inducements ...

Firstly: the theme is Steampunk. Imagine the "modern" world as if science had stopped in the Victorian age. What sort of contraptions would we be getting about the planet on? How would we dress? What would our cities look like? While I'm not completely obsessed with steampunk, let's say I'm ... intrigued. There *are* people out there who are completely obsessed (google "steampunk", select images, and prepare to have your mind blown). But for now, this level of obsession will do for me.

Secondly: we're doing the *whole* deck ~ not just the Major Arcana. For folks unfamiliar with Tarot, the Major Arcana are like the face cards in a regular deck. Kings, Queens, that sort of thing. For this project we're also doing the Minor Arcana, or the numbered cards as well. Yay! And yikes! That's a LOT of cards! Good thing we've got a big group on this one.

The usual "suits" in a Tarot deck are Cups, Wands, Swords and Pentacles (or Coins). Since this deck is steampunk, Cups have stayed Cups, although my vote was for beakers. Wands have become Walking Sticks. Swords have become Daggers. Personally I thought Umbrellas would be cooler, but people didn't think they were menacing enough. Obviously they don't live in Vancouver. Pentacles/Coins have become Gears. Which is pretty darn cool. I put my name in for the Page of Gears.

Eons ago when I bought my first Tarot deck (at 18?), a friend who read Tarot cards suggested that I choose a "signifier" card for myself ~ something that would represent me in the world. She suggested that since I was too young to be represented by one of the queens (a card better suited to more mature women), that I choose one of the Page cards. I read all the definitions in the teeny tiny book that came with my cards and I chose the Page of Pentacles. Okay ... so it had *pen* right in the name, so that was a plus, but (according to the teeny tiny book) it also represents a young person on a quest to gain knowledge or learn a skill, and I had (at 18) just started an apprenticeship in printing, so it seemed to fit me nicely. Pentacles are also an earth suit, and my Zodiac sign is also an earth sign. Let's just say that if you're going to throw your hat into the divination ring, you might as well go with the flow. I should (of course) stick a whoppingly huge disclaimer on this whole thing by saying that I don't actually "believe" this stuff ... I'm far too practical for that. But my friends who do would pat my hand and say: Of course you're skeptical, dear, you're a Virgo. And there's no comeback for that, is there?

Above is one of the sketches I made for the final drawing. I should explain that his/her weirdly placed hand will be holding a giant gear/cog. The final Page of Gears is 97% complete ... I'm just struggling with the face. I'm working in about seven layers of gesso, paint and Caran d'Ache crayons on the figure, which is a good thing and a bad thing. Bad because so much texture is making it tricky to get the features right. Good because if I mess it up, I just scrape off the layers and start again. Which I've done four times already. I think I'm just going to set this card aside and move on to ...

My second card! Yes, with 78 cards to produce, it was inevitable seconds would be available. Since the organizer very kindly gave me the Page of Gears as I requested, I told her I'd take any random card she needed to complete the deck, and she gave me the Seven of Daggers. Oooooh ... sounds dangerous! After spending a few hours yesterday trolling the net for a) card interpretations and b) examples of other Sevens of Swords, I'm well on my way with ideas for this one. I'm having so much fun with this that I can't wait to see the completed deck.

Wishing You a Frosty Maple Christmas ...

2011-12-24T00:26:00.001-08:00

& Wishing Everyone the Best for the Coming Year ...

I took this photo at the "Frostbite Meet" at the Little Railway.
You think with all those little trains around, that
I'd *actually* have a train in the photo ... but no, tracks it is!

And here's a little poem I wrote to go with it:

Night's frost has etched the world in white,
The morning train in the station stands,
Chuffing out great gusts of steam
As if to warm Old Winter's hands.

Hoping you're all warm and dry ...

- Penelope

Creating time for the unexpected (part two)

2011-11-27T10:14:00.000-08:00

Meanwhile ... back at my art retreat and the "short story" that wouldn't go away ...

So ... there I was ... completely unable to concentrate on the project I'd brought to work on, and significantly distracted by the short story that had just fallen out of my head when I woke that morning. But having written it, there was really nowhere to take it, except perhaps to an editor (if I only I knew one!). Creatively speaking, I needed a fresh direction to travel in ...

In the last few years, several of us have been fortunate enough to have taken classes with Roxanne Padgett, and pretty much we all agree that she's one of the most inspiring and generous teachers we've had. Her recent Journalfest class on faces inspired some of us to make multi-plate prints at the retreat.

I'm just gonna say outright that I was a little intimidated to try this, but since everyone else was having a go at it, I thought I'd join in. I've noticed there's a kind of energy about doing things in groups that I can't replicate at home. Not to mention that if I was at home I would have found a zillion other things I "ought" to have been doing and therefore print-making just wouldn't have happened. But since the materials are so darn cheap (Sticky foam sheet + thrift store board book: $2. Acrylic paints: $5. Making your own amazing multi-colour prints? Priceless) this was obviously both the time and the place to do it.

I started with a simple sketch of a woman's head, then I redrew it using wide sharpie on the sticky foam. The process of visualizing and cutting the separate layers of colour in the foam was a bit of a mind twister. It looks easy (once it's done), but actually cutting the layers? You really have to concentrate. And positioning them on the board book so they would be in register? Sheesh! It occurred to me while trying to position everything that working on plexiglass sheets would make lining things up easier, but hey - who randomly throws some plexiglass into their art bag "just in case they need it"? Okay, some people might actually do that, but I hadn't, so I worked with what I had. And it all worked out okay in the end ~ I actually think the non-perfect register of these prints is what makes them look more interesting.

I wanted to record the separate stages of the process, so I decided to stamp each "plate" into my journal, and hey - it just so happened that I had 7 blank pages ready and waiting (opposite that darn short story!). So I carefully stamped and labeled each of the 3 separate plates in my journal, and filled up the following 4 pages with various combinations ... plates 1 & 2 together, plates 2 & 3 together, all plates together, etc, etc . Done!

But not done. It kind of bugged me that the pages were still so empty ... just a single, boring print on each page. Hmphf. Fortunately, what I *had* thrown into my art bag was some really really fun washi tape. I, like many of my arty friends, have recently fallen under the spell of washi tape. I've even been making my own custom washi tape. Maybe I'll tell you about it some time ...

So I decided to put a washi tape border around each of the prints, and added a bit of colour here and there using caran d'ache crayons. And since that still left an empty box under each print, I also hand wrote or stamped a few lines from the bit of the story on the facing page. Now I was done. Every single page was as thoroughly visually covered as the scribbly written page that faced it. And yet again I'd had the experience of the retreat giving me an extraordinary gift - a complete package - a story, plus the perfect visual component to go with it. Will wonders never cease? I hope not.

I'm with you, little guy ...

2011-11-18T21:57:00.000-08:00

Last night it snowed here. Snow was not forecast on the radio. I mentioned this to Mr B. on our way to dinner.

"Snow wasn't forecast on the radio," I said. "Time for a new radio," said Mr B. in his usual deadpan English way.

In the 15 minutes it took us to find a restaurant, it went from light drizzly rain to huge splatting flakes the size of quarters. In the half hour it took to have dinner (the restaurant was nearly empty), it seemed to have given up and gone back to being cold and dark, but not wet.

After dinner, Mr. B dropped me at the Richmond Art Gallery, where I met up with my friend Catherine for the opening of their mail art exhibit (we both had work in the show). Well worth a look, by the way, if you're in the neighbourhood ~ it'll be on display till January 15th.

Anyway ... we thought we'd better get home sooner rather than later as more people came into the gallery saying (cheerfully!) that it was "snowing out there". Good thing we did ~ it had returned to the huge splatting flakes again ~ and they were starting to pile up. The closer we got to home, the more snow there was, until the sidewalks were white, and the wipers were actually pushing slush out of their way. By the time Catherine dropped me at home, my lawn and sidewalk were not only completely white, but also distressingly crunchy. Ick.

And then, this morning, as Mr. B dropped me off at work, we saw this lovely little snowman hailing a bus outside my building, and I couldn't resist taking a picture. I know it's just a snowman, but I absolutely identified with that hopefully raised twiggy arm ... get me out of here, it seemed to say. Oh yeah, I'm with you, little guy ... I'm not ready for winter, either.

Creating time for the unexpected (part one)

2011-11-15T15:13:00.000-08:00

Just back from another weekend away with my favourite art journaling group at the Red Farmhouse. Unlike art retreats with classes, teachers and schedules, our little group arrives with a whack of supplies and (usually) no specific goal in mind except to create a space where we can work on (play with?) whatever projects, materials and tools are taking our fancy at the moment. One of the many things that amaze me on our quarterly retreats is that I always seem to come home with something that wasn't even in my mind when I set out. And unlike at home, the projects I work on at the Red Farmhouse arrive almost as a package ~ and while there, I'm pretty driven to get them as complete as they can be, knowing that when I go home, I'll be pulled away to other responsibilities and I worry that I'll lose the thread, and they'll never be completed.

All my life, I've had strange dreams, and sleeping in strange places gives me even stranger dreams. Stranger, more vivid, live-it-like-you-were-there kind of vividness. This happens every time I go to the Red Farmhouse. I wake up one morning with *something* unusual spilling out of my head and onto my journal pages (usually verbal), and somehow over the course of the next few days I'm able to turn it into something visual that I wouldn't have created any other time. This weekend's experience was no exception ... Saturday morning, I woke from a dream about a wonderful creative relationship that comes up against an all too familiar obstacle.

But I'd (foolishly!) left my journal downstairs Friday night, so the trick was to stay sleepy enough to keep all the details in my head, but awake enough to maneuver the stairs down and then back up to my room where I could write everything down. Seven pages and an hour or so later, it was all spilled messily out onto the page. Satisfied, I went downstairs to see what was sort of creative stuff was cooking at the big art table, but for some reason the story just wouldn't leave me. I kept falling back into the environment, the characters, the events. The project I'd intended to work on seemed flat and distant compared to the brightness of the dream. But, at the same time, I didn't know what to do next. It was obviously just a short story. Funny ... I say that like I write short stories all the time ... trust me, I don't. Well, not short stories that *other* people would recognize as short stories. This one I could almost imagine reading in a real book.

By lunchtime I still couldn't shake the story. As we sat in the kitchen after lunch, I asked if anyone would mind if I read my story, and they were all up for it. I was pretty nervous, I'm not the kind of person who enjoys reading my work aloud. And what's really weird is that I realized I wanted to read it to them almost because I wanted witnesses to the fact that this extraordinary thing had fallen out of my head only hours before. I was afraid if I took it away "under wraps" that something bad would happen to it in the editing stage and I might never share it with anyone. Ever. And that seemed like a shame, not because it's such a marvelous story (hard to tell what it might be once properly edited), but because it's existence seemed as much about our being all together in that space as it was about the original dream. Like it kind of belonged to all of us, and I was just the channel it came in through.

The story continued to stay with me all that day, and the next, and in fact, here is it Tuesday and it's still with me. I think this is because it badly needs editing, and I'm afraid to get too far away from it before I do that. Or maybe I'm afraid to be too close. Or something. I've put one of the unedited sections of the story here for you so you'll see something of it's current state. I know soon I'll be brave enough to edit it. I know it'll find the right form eventually. In my next post, I'll show you what happened next, and for that too I credit my friends at the Red Farmhouse.

I Think I'll Go As a Dysfunctional Childhood ...

2011-10-29T09:28:00.000-07:00

Hallowe'en is nearly upon us. For me it's perfectly fitting that the holiday season begins with a fright-based event, because as near as I can tell, from now till New Year's Day western civilization takes collective leave of its senses and I get more and more bewildered/annoyed by it every year.

Lest you think I'm just some ordinary run-of-the-mill Grinch, I should explain that I grew up without holidays (my parents' religion forbade them). And I'm an oldest child. And we were poor. So there I am in the weird three-way overlap of this particular Venn diagram where the collective effect has been to put me out-of-step with the forces behind every holiday from here till Christmas.

I *try* to like them. I mean, who can't get on board with a little cutting loose (Hallowe'en), a little giving and receiving (Christmas) and whatever it is we're supposed to feel on Remembrance Day (every person I ask has a different answer to this one). I suppose I'll continue to struggle with how to fit into these events as life goes on, but over the years I've pretty much come to terms with being baseline out-of-sorts till January 1st.

Each holiday affects me slightly differently, depending on what's expected of the participants.

Hallowe'en, for example, encourages people to misbehave, to let their inner goblins out, and (depending on your age), also to a) take candy from strangers, b) scare the crap out of your friends, c) get drunk while you think you're *actually* superman (or the devil, or giant dice, or whatever you've decided to be for the night). The thing is, I'm all for creativity and intellectually I understand the need for ritual, rule-breaking and not being yourself from time to time. But the oldest child in me just wants to look deeply into everyone's eyes as they go out the door, hold them firmly by the shoulders and say something like: "You be careful out there." In my head I'm also adding: " ... and I'll just stay home with the lights off till the night is over."

What I actually *do* at Hallowe'en is volunteer at the little railway, where for 3 hours we give miniature train rides to over 1000 (mostly little) people in (hopefully) warm, waterproof costumes. My job consists of hanging out in the clubhouse with all the other *ladies* handing out free cookies and desperately needed hot chocolate as the trains unload their very cold and/or waterlogged passengers. So it's not like I'm hiding at home - I am out there! Confronting my fears! But also, like the good sensible oldest child I am, I am staying warm and dry and looking deeply into their eyes while I hand them their hot chocolate and thinking: See? That wasn't so bad, was it?.

So, in the spirit of Hallowe'en and dyfunctional childhoods everywhere, the lovely cartoon above is by Lynda Barry AKA the Near-Sighted Monkey, who has taught me in the most wonderful way, that it's possible to have your heart broken and healed at the same time.

The future is already here, it's just not very evenly distributed ...

2011-10-10T23:53:00.001-07:00

"The future is already here, it's just not very evenly distributed." William Gibson (apparently) said this in an interview in 1993, although he prefaced it by saying that he'd said it often before, and I'll take his word on that. In any case, I think I can attest to the truth of it, in fact, I think I can quite comfortably state that I don't think the future was ever evenly distributed. Even after 25 years of living in the city, I still think the movies I see advertised on TV won't be available in my "local theatre" for at least 3 months (as was the case in my childhood in the remote wilds of BC). Not that I go to the theatre (cinema? movies?) anymore ... I just wait the "usual" 3 months till they're on TV, and I can enjoy the same advertised films from the comfort of my own sofa, with cheaper popcorn, and (thanks to modern technology) I'm also able to pause the film if the phone rings, or some other interruption occurs.

I was thinking about this today because I was suffering from some kind of ennui (which is not my usual state ~ must be the rain) and I chose to fight back using all the modern technology I have at my disposal. Granted, most of this "modern technology" was actually the net ... but never look a gift horse in the mouth (and I'm pretty sure people don't do that anymore).

Anywho ... here's what happened ... I began with the latest edition of Radiolab ... and if you haven't made Radiolab one of your usual webstops, I highly recommend it. Their latest offering "Loops" lived up to my expectations, and while I listened I sat by the computer sticking photographs together for an art deadline this weekend. Dum de dum ... listen, listen, stick, stick ... see ... feeling better already ... and then I suddenly stopped, and listened more closely ... the young woman being interviewed was relating the story of when her mother had Transient Global Amnesia (a usually brief state of mind when you completely forget your immediate past and remain unable to form any new memories for the duration of the attack). I'd actually read (and clipped out) a fascinating case of TGA while we were in England this year, so I was aware of the condition, but what stopped me in my tracks was when the young woman said, "... on the youtube video we made of it, you can see ...". Wait, what!? OK, so pause Radiolab and go search youtube, where yes ... there they are, in the hospital room, telling her mother over and over, Yes, it's Tuesday, yes, it's past your birthday, yes, you were there, yes, this is creepy, and then repeating the whole conversation again every 90 seconds or so. When I'm done watching this, I go back to Radiolab and re-hear the audio of the youtube video again, only this time with the woman's face clearly in my head (which I wouldn't have had if I hadn't seen the video) ... talk about looping.

And then later ... listening to The Enright Files on CBC, an interview with Nick Mount, an English professor at the University of Toronto on the state of academic integrity (i.e. cheating) in universities. I was really enjoying their conversation, and thought some of Nick's answers were among the clearest, most sensible statements about higher education that I'd heard in awhile (not that I spend a lot of my time on such subjects, but still ...). Anyway, at some point in the conversation, Michael casually asks about the role of "entertainment" in teaching, particularly in delivering English lectures to large classes (if I heard right, the class size was somewhere around 500. Really? OMG). Nick says that a certain amount of theatre is involved ... that he remembers his own attention span at that age as being something like 15 minutes, and he tries to keep them engaged in his topic by occasionally introducing something that reconnects with their brains. Michael flatteringly follows with something like ... "I remember seeing a youtube video of a lecture you gave on comics as being quite entertaining." Again, I'm diving for the search button and trying to guess what youtube search terms to use and yep, there it is ... a 55 minute lecture on comics. Well, hot dawg.

So after Michael and Nick finish up, I scoot on over to youtube for another hour of more listening, as well as looking, for Nick Mount's youtube lecture on graphic novels (many of them Canadian!) is filled with examples from the books in question. Of course, as I listened I kept on sticking those photos together ... classic multitasking in the modern age.

This all kind of reminds me of the first time I realized that William Gibson's future had indeed arrived where I was ... a few years ago I'd been rereading Kurt Vonnegut (Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons, if you're wondering), an author whose work generates so many ideas while I read that I inevitably wind up reaching for a pen to start writing myself (always a good sign in any writer!), and I wondered what I could find of his work online ... what I found had so many layers of future impossible that I think even Kurt himself would have been amused ... I found a youtube video of a second life interview, where Kurt is interviewed by John Hockenberry of The Infinite Mind, a now-defunct (it seems) NPR radio show. Mind you, none of the people (not Kurt, not John, and certainly not any of the audience were actually together in any way. So if that isn't the future coming to call, I don't know what is.

To make up for all those words in the last post ...

2011-09-13T00:01:00.000-07:00

After reading all the words in my last post, you deserve a break (you did read them, didn't you?), here are some pics from around my neighbourhood ...

In case you can't read the tag: "FREE FREE", just in case one "FREE" is not enough.


I speak to the trees, and the trees, well, they try to pick up girls ...

'Nuff said, I think.

What to do with the *rest* of the bag of marshsmallows when you've eaten enough.

One of the cheeriest bumper stickers I've ever seen.


You're probably tired after all that clicking ... this way to the iced tea.

You never know just where you'll go ...

2011-09-12T22:35:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to get back to the blog for awhile now. I mean, life keeps happening, and I keep saying to myself: Oh, I should blog about that. And then I don't. I get busy or do something else entirely and the moment passes. But I really really should put this stuff out there ... so here goes:

Way back a couple of weeks ago ... on my birthday, actually, Papergirl Vancouver rode out on their bikes and gave away hundreds of pieces of artwork, mine included. I DID actually manage to blog about it here and here. And I even managed to blog about the Papergirl exhibit launch here. But something else came out of my Papergirl experience, something kinda cool that I didn't even know existed until I was contacted.

Here's what happened ... at the Papergirl exhibit launch I got into a great little conversation with Jeanette. We walked around a bit together and showed each other the stuff we liked, and (without seeming too cocky) I'd have to say she really liked the collage I'd done, and I'd happened to bring a couple of extra prints along (just in case - you never know!) so I gave her one.

Now the funny thing is (and I'm sure I'm not the only person who feels like this) but I usually feel that what I've done is Not So Special. Oh, I like it fine, and I'm pretty happy when other people like it, but when other people Really Really Like It, I'm always a bit mystified. This topic came up at our art retreat, and I was finally able to find the words to describe why some of us are so hard on ourselves when it comes to our art ... basically, it boils down to: Other people see what we've done, while we see what we weren't able to do. For others, it's like we've made something out of nothing (where DO you get your ideas!?), but we see all the places where we "fudged" the process trying to get whatever it was in our heads onto the page, and even though we might *like* the result, it might not be exactly what we were hoping, so we doubt ourselves.

Anyway, big big thanks to Jeanette, who very kindly passed my info on to Jason at Illustrated Vancouver, who kindly asked me if he could add my artwork to his ongoing project to collect 1000 pieces of artwork featuring Vancouver. His collection is quite amazing, and even though I've only lived in Vancouver for 25 years, I know (and love) so many of the places featured in the pieces he's selected and I'm thrilled to be included. Also, now that I'm following his site regularly, I'm thrilled to see that not only is one of the blogs I regularly follow (Design Sponge) having a book launch October 1st in Vancouver, but they're holding it at Anthropologie (wait!? we have an Anthropologie store and I didn't know it!? Man .. I have *got* to get out more!). Just so you don't think I'm a design snob ... my favourite part of Design Sponge is where people post little cards saying what they love about their house, and the department I'm planning to hit at Anthropologie is the book section (of course!). So, all in all, double thanks to Jason for all that.

From the moment I saw the Papergirl Vancouver poster hanging in a store window in my neighbourhood just a few short days before their deadline, I knew I wanted to contribute something so they would be around next year. I knew exactly what I wanted to make, and how I was going to make it. And (luckily) I left the next day for my art retreat where I knew I would have the time and materials to pull it off. Their deadline was the day after I got back so I quickly had it scanned and printed, and then couriered to their office (I would have loved to deliver it in person, but I had to work!). The whole process from discovery to creation to delivery seemed magical in some way. Maybe magical isn't the right word ... but I felt like I was tuned in to something ... a flow ... a connection ... a pulse, yeah, that's more like it ... like there's a river of energy in the world all the time, and for some reason, for the duration of the project, I could feel it, and let it guide me. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a pretty down to earth, if-you-want-something-done-give-it-to-the-busy-person, here-let-me-organize-that-for-you kind of person, so having such a great result and having my artwork acknowledged that little bit further than I was ever expecting is pretty darn cool. Thanks again to Papergirl Vancouver, Jeanette, Jason and my ever-encouraging art retreat compadres (you know who you are!).

Catching up with Papergirl Vancouver

2011-09-04T09:59:00.000-07:00

One of the many wonderful pieces donated to the event.

Thought I'd post a few pics from the Papergirl Vancouver launch event on August 23. The exhibition space at the Roundhouse Community Center was filled with donated artwork hanging from clotheslines ~ a simple, beautiful solution when you've got hundreds of pieces of all sizes to hang. This exhibition, which was up for the week, was the only way to see all the artworks in one place before they were rolled and distributed by papergirls on bicycles along some undisclosed route in Vancouver. There was some speculation that the street names spelled out in tape on the floor below the clotheslines hinted at the route that might be followed, but later information proved this not to be the case.

A feast of fabulousness hanging above us ...

The artwork was fabulous and diverse, as one might expect considering the sheer number of contributors and without any particular theme. As a "collect the whole set" kind of person, it was maddening ... "oh, I like this one! Oooh, that one's good!", knowing all the while I'd never actually get my hands on any of them, since the odds of being in the right place at the right time were astronomically small.

I attended the event with Lelainia, who'd also contributed some of her artwork, and she'd bravely agreed to say a few words to the assembled crowd on the experience from a participant's point of view. One of the cool things I noticed was how much *love* there was in the room. I may not be an expert on art show vibes, but this one was humming with excitement ... people were talking to each other, showing each other their "favourites" and shyly and/or proudly pointing out their own contributions. I expect a lot of people in attendance were the artists who'd contributed, but still ... it was a joy to hang out in such a positive, supportive atmosphere and groove on the creativity and generosity of all the people who made it happen.

There are plenty more pics at their blog, so go have a look. I'm sending out BIG THANKS to everyone at Papergirl Vancouver for a massively successful inaugural show. You did good!

... then there was the collage

2011-08-15T11:46:00.001-07:00

My plan from the beginning was to reproduce the collage for the Papergirl Vancouver project in black and white, which meant the papers I used would need to be a variety of patterns, but similar in value and tone. My solution was to use security envelope linings, of which I have quite a few collected.

Having cut up my traced and numbered drawing (see previous post), I started working from the background to the foreground. I laid each numbered template piece onto the selected envelope lining, being careful to match the top edge of the piece exactly but extending the bottom edge so there'd be something to glue the next layer onto.

The North Shore mountains were easy, and once I had them in place I could feel my confidence growing that my idea was going to work! Next I put in the forests of Stanley Park, and then moved east along the cityscape, putting skyscrapers in the background and layering lower buildings in front of them. There's no way I could be even close to accurate about the buildings given the scale I was working in, but I was highly amused to find an envelope lining from Telus (one of BC's largest phone companies) in my collection, so there is a Telus Building. The building just behind the Telus building is made from an envelope lining from the Hudson's Bay Company (thanks, Rose!), and if you know anything about Canadian history, you'll know why having an HBC building is very apropos.

The waves on English Bay are made with a series of lumpy almost concentric half ovals, starting with the largest on the bottom, and then all glued down at once, covering up the edges of the forest and the city. In the foreground, a path from a grass and shrubbery-edged manicured lawn leads down to the sandy beach.

Although I'd planned the cloud from the very beginning, I came across a zigzag lightning envelope lining that seemed oh so appropriate for how quickly the weather can turn here (yes, it can rain on a moment's notice!).

When it was all finished I realized the North Shore mountains needed *a little something* to break up their dark dominance, and while a few little snips of white would've given me seagulls, I thought if I was viewing the city from Jericho Beach or Spanish Banks (surely the location from whence this scene is viewed), what I'd mostly likely see is a floatplane headed for Burrard Inlet on the other side of Stanley Park. It took a few tries to get it down to a small size (it should probably be smaller, but my fingers kept getting in the way of the scissors) , and adding white wings made it uber-recognizable as a plane.

I'm just so tickled at how it turned out. I don't think I ever got from concept to completion on anything quite as fast as this (approx 8 hours), and it's something I'm happy to contribute to the Papergirl Vancouver project. If you live in Vancouver, keep an eye out for girls on bikes!

First there was the plan ...

2011-08-15T11:25:00.001-07:00

I seldom show the planning stages of my projects, but since this was the first time I'd done something like this and it worked out so successfully, I thought I'd share how easy-peasy it was. My goal was to create a collaged cityscape that could be easily reproduced to donate to the Papergirl Vancouver project.

I wanted to do a recognizable Vancouver cityscape, and surprisingly, I was actually able to sketch one out. I guess I've been looking at The Lions (the two peaks on the mountains) long enough that I was able to capture them even though I was far away from home at the time I drew this. Guess that makes me a *real* Vancouverite now.

After I finished the sketch, I delineated the collage areas with a black felt pen, and numbered them so I could place all the pieces in the right location during construction.

Then I overlaid my sketch with another piece of blank paper, and traced the delineated areas, again numbering them, so that when I cut up the traced copy I could use the bits and pieces as templates for cutting out papers for the collage.

To see how it all turns out, check out my next post ...

I think I want to be a Papergirl ...

2011-08-15T10:56:00.001-07:00

I think I want to be a Papergirl ... okay maybe not one of the girls who actually deliver the art, but I SO want to contribute to this project so that it can be around next year.

Here's the premise ... people make art, they deliver their art to Papergirl, Papergirl rolls up all the art they receive and ride around on bicycles in the city giving the art out to random people on the street. An idea so cool that my heart went pitty-pat when I read about it. Check their website to see if Papergirl is happening in your part of the world. Also watch the cool videos to see how they do it.

I first saw a Papergirl poster last Wednesday while walking home in my neighbourhood. The "soft" deadline is August 15th, which is (ulp!) today. But not to worry ... I've just come home from one of my kickass art retreats and while there I had time to whip up a little something SO perfect for Papergirl that I still can't believe that: a) I got a great idea, b) had the time to do it and c) it turned out EXACTLY as I hoped it would. Cool.

This is Where You Are ...

2011-08-08T22:37:00.001-07:00

Since this project will soon be in the hands of the collaborators, I think it's safe to post my contribution to a Nick Bantock-themed Tarot deck I was invited to join.

I have a fondness for Tarot decks and have quite a few in my ongoing collection, but I like collaborative artist decks even more. There's something fascinating about trying to distill ideas down to images, and then throw in some mystery of your own.

As well as creating our cards as a blend of "traditional" Tarot meanings and Bantock-inspired art, we were required to send a page of text to help the recipients interpret our cards. Here's what I sent for my version of Card No. 21/XXI ~ The World / Le Monde:

"Wherever you are, you are here. This is a time to reflect on your accomplishments before beginning the next stage of traveling. Relax and enjoy the fruits of your labour. There is the possibility of new journeys on the horizon, but in this moment stop and appreciate all you have learned on your way to this place." (Reversed) "Your success may be blocked, either by some external situation, or by you not being willing to see the truth of where you are. If you are planning a new venture be sure you get all the facts before committing yourself fully."

This month I should be consulting this card every day ... I decided since we've been less busy at work that I would "tidy" the studio. For some reason this turned into re-arranging the shelving, i.e. unloading everything into boxes onto the patio, unbolting the shelves from the wall, subtly tweaking their location (oh, for drag and drop in the real world!), rebolting them in their new locations and re-shelving everything. I'm not doing this on my own. I have the able, patient assistance of the person I live with. Who am I kidding? He's done all the unbolting, moving & rebolting, now all I have to do is all the un-boxing, sorting, purging, etc.

At this very moment (I'm trying very hard not to look too closely) the studio still looks like a very big snowglobe that's been given a rather energetic shake by a frustrated child high on sugary snacks. But it will be better ... soon. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

He (by the way) when asked how I should refer to him in my blog, got that deer in the headlights look, followed by a long awkward pause that perhaps contained several seconds of him considering whether it was too late to trade me in for someone who *didn't* have a blog, and wouldn't, under any circumstances, want to write about him. Eventually he said "just call me the chauffeur". So thanks, Monsieur le Chauffeur ~ couldn't have done it without you.

Power to the Peaceful ...

2011-07-22T20:36:00.001-07:00

Just a little post today, but a big thank you to Rachel for sending me this heartfelt little bit of embroidery. Maybe it's that she's used my favourite colour combination, or maybe it's that lovely hand-stitching, or maybe that it arrived out of the blue just as I'm planning a prayer/intention flag art party with some friends to celebrate my 2nd birthday party (yes, I'm more than 2 years old, but I had my first one last year, so this really will be my second birthday party ~ honest).

Anyway ~ just made me go all warm and fuzzy when I opened the envelope ~ I wondered why her zine felt a little thicker than usual. Lovely little thing, Rachel, thanks so much for the time you spent making it for me.

Wherein a dog will steal your heart ...

2011-07-13T09:20:00.000-07:00

Recently I've been enthralled by my friend Holly's story about finding a stray dog. Her story reminded me of George, a best-loved dog from my own childhood. I don't even know if I own a picture of George, but he looked very much like this ~ right down to the knowing eyes.

George came to our family in a most unusual way. At the time we lived in the back of beyond, a remote house on a remote road, without running water or electricity. My Dad had gone out to buy us a wood-burning cookstove. I was never clear where he bought it ~ he knew a man who knew a man who had a stove for sale, that sort of thing.

When it arrived, it was sadly in need of a cleaning and had probably been stored outdoors. While it was still on the back of the truck, my Dad opened up the oven and out popped a very frightened puppy ~ who skedaddled right off the truck and headed for the hills. What I recall of that day was my family wandering along the road and through the bush calling "Puppy! Puppy!" until it got too dark to see and we were in danger of getting lost ourselves. That night, as we talked and read around the kerosene lamps, we were all pretty solemn, thinking of that little puppy ~ cold, frightened and hungry ~ and knowing there wasn't even the remotest chance that anyone else would find him, and worse: that he might wind up as a bear's dinner.

But - happy day! The next morning on our way out to the woodpile, there he was ~ shivering with cold and hunger, still very frightened but having found his way back to us, willing to give us the very slimmest benefit of a doubt that we were better than the wild wild woods.

The first order of business was a name. My Mom said call him whatever we wanted, as long as it was anything but George. None of us could come up with anything that seemed to suit him, and for the first few days we called him Anything But George. Eventually (of course!) it just got shortened to George (sorry, Mom). Wherever he came from, he'd obviously been treated very badly. He crept along the walls in the house and whenever my Mom picked up the broom to sweep the floor he'd pee in fright. Making Jiffypop popcorn would drive him into a frenzy of fear, and he'd have to be put in a "safe" room. But, being a puppy, and surrounded by four kids who were like *so thrilled* to have a puppy, we gradually won him over.

Nobody really knew what sort of dog he was. From the knees up, he looked very much like a Border Collie, but his legs were so impossibly short that it's hard to imagine him herding anything but mice. With such short legs he couldn't run, so he "bounced". And I don't mean that figuratively ~ he actually moved like a springbok ~ he could bounce at least three times his own height. I remember he used to meet us at the school bus in the winter by bouncing OVER the snowbanks. The other kids would all gather on one side of the bus just to watch this crazy dog come to meet us. He also had an unusually large plume of a tail that cleared off the coffee table if he happened to walk past it while wagging happily.

If anything in my young life taught me how deep devotion can go, it was George. He followed us everywhere and was possibly the sweetest animal I've even known. He did this weird verbalization thing ~ sort of yawning and gurgling and nodding ~ like a baby might before it has words. Late one night after attending a concert, my brother and I were trying to sneak quietly into the house so as not wake anyone ~ but no dice, there was George at the top of the stairs, loudly "saying" how happy he was that we were home, and the more we giggled and told him to stop, the more happy, verbal and loud he got. Since mostly we lived in remote places, he'd grown up without other dogs to show him how to be a dog, so I think he thought he was one of us. He sat on the couch like we did (back straight, feet out), and got pretty miffed if he was left out of a treat that all the *other kids* were getting.

We always thought he was incapable of barking until we moved into a little neighbourhood that had three (count'em THREE houses!) and each house had a dog. One night at dinner we could hear a dog barking. It wasn't the deep voice of the German Shepherd in the house west of us, and it wasn't the soft yap of the little dog east of us ~ it was our very own George, who'd finally found his doggie voice ~ we all ran outside to see if he was okay, and he seemed as surprised as we were to find him barking. I was so darn proud of him in that moment, and even though we'd had him for years and loved away all the memories of how badly his life started, I felt like this was the moment he'd finally become "his own dog".

George was an important part of our family, but eventually I did what all children do ~ left home and started a life of my own. George was always happy to see me when I visited, and the other *kids* too, as they moved on. At the end of his life, he was quite infirm, and eventually in great pain. My parents sadly did the decent thing even though it broke their hearts, I'm sure. He lived a grand old life, adored by all of us, and he was, as far as I'm concerned, irreplaceable.

Science Fiction at the British Library ... ooooh, aaaaah

2011-07-12T20:41:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows I love science fiction. Wait, let me qualify that ... I love "good" science fiction. If I were a librarian (and who hasn't wanted to be a librarian at some point in their life, I ask?), the science fiction section of libraries would be a whole lot smaller. It seems to me there's a whole bunch of stuff (we're being polite here) that very clearly *isn't* SF that's put there because they didn't know what the heck to do with it otherwise. And don't get me started on Fantasy ... um, yeah, like SO not Science Fiction.

On previous trips to England I've relied heavily on buying a copy of Time Out magazine on my way out of Heathrow Airport (oooh, place name dropping!). This year, I chose to do my pre-trip planning from the comfort of my own home, by checking out all the usual museums, etc. online first.

I got *really* excited when I saw that the British Library was hosting an exhibit called: "Out of This World : Science Fiction, But Not As You Know It". As a person who's read quite a lot of SF, particularly the classics, I wasn't expecting to see a bunch of "new" stuff ~ but (of course) I did. I spent some of my precious time writing down titles that needed to be checked out in the future (no pun intended), but at a certain point gave up and decided to buy the exhibit guidebook ~ which contained not only a complete list, but grouped them by theme and is profusely articled and illustrated.

Years ago when I was an obstreperous teenager, I remember arguing with my Dad about the merit of SF ~ he didn't see the point of it. I may have won that argument, he started reading SF after that. For me, SF has almost always been about the "big questions" ~ why are we here, what would the present look like if the past had been different, and what will the future look like if we make different choices now? As I see it, one of the tools of SF is that it lets you isolate one aspect of human existence and spin it out into the grand "what if?". Because in the end, however well the writers write, they are still human writers writing human stories for human readers, and I think the best of the best of the SF I've read over my life has made me a better human. And I continue to read SF ~ apart from the exhibit guidebook, most of the books I bought while in England were SF, and classics to boot ~ including one that's eluded me for years, but the how and when of buying it is an interesting story for another day ...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the pond ...

2011-07-10T16:02:00.001-07:00

In case you've been wondering where I've been for the last month ... I was here (see photo at left). And lest you think it's the Capitol Dome of one of the many places that might have a Capitol Dome ~ it's St. Paul's Cathedral in London.

This is one of the first of several hundred photos I took on vacation in England. This is the first year that I've carried my digital camera with me everywhere, and as a result I have pictures of stuff that I swear will be of *no* interest to anybody but me.

But we'll start with this one ~ which at least has the merit of being iconic. It was taken while standing on the Millennium Bridge looking back into The City (or "downtown" as we North Americans might say). I've never actually been into St. Paul's ... and since we were headed away from it and across the bridge to the Tate Modern, I didn't make it there that day either. It occurred to me (as I took this photo) that somebody went to a whole lot of trouble to make sure that people walking north on the bridge (i.e. heading towards the "downtown") would have a great view. This might not seem like it would be difficult to arrange, but if you've ever been to London and seen it's windy, twisty streets, you'll know a clear view of *anything* is tricky.

Since there are (literally) hundreds of photos, I'm going to do a series of short posts with a new picture each time. I may even spin the wheel (metaphorically speaking) and write about whatever photo I happen to land on. Today you were lucky and got St. Paul's.

Next time, who knows? I have a disconcertingly large number of photos of textures, particularly stone walls, walkways, brickwork etc etc. They're for a future art project and the more I noticed them the more I noticed them, if you know what I mean. I'll let the wheel land there once, but there's only so much you can say about rocks ...

So nice to be home ...

Artfest 2011 - Part 4 - Pretty Vial Things

2011-05-27T15:49:00.000-07:00

My last class from Artfest this year is Pretty Vial Things with Michael deMeng. Our mission was to alter a bottle into something more interesting, but these words barely convey the extent of alterations these bottles endured.

It's been a few years since I laid my hands on tools as beefy and vigorous as the ones we used in this class. Michael gave us a guided tour of the tools and rules before we set off ... how to (or how not to) drill, burn, scrape, paint, attach, detach and puncture nearly every material imaginable, what sticks to what (and what doesn't). A good refresher for me.

And then we set to working with our amazing variety of shapes and sizes of bottles. Some of us came with something like a clear plan of what we wanted to do to the bottles we'd brought with us. Some of us were busy rifling through our bulging containers of random bits and pieces hoping a juxtaposition of materials would activate a lightbulb over our heads.

My bottle was supposed to be a "practice bottle". I thought I'd tinker with it until I got a clear idea of what to do with a lovely (and rare) tapered squarish bottle I'd brought. But the practice bottle somehow took on a life of its own. Michael's supply list had included some materials I'd never worked with (apoxy clay, primarily), and I set about a little task to test its strengths and weaknesses. My test was to raise up the bottle off the table by creating a "fence" of hairpins around the bottom. I wanted a space underneath to put something (I wasn't sure what at the time). Not only did the apoxy clay work ~ it worked fabulously, although it did take some time to dry. As for what went underneath, well even I didn't see that coming.

The day went by very quickly, each of us hard at work on our own little creation, and Michael flitting about the room answering questions and offering assistance with the more dangerous experiments involving sharp revolving metal things and/or fire. He also gave us a really in-depth session on how to mix those crazy paint colour combinations he comes up with. I have to admit that learning his paint mixes was a huge motivation for me choosing his class and he didn't disappoint. I indulged in one his Shades of Alchemy swatch books - it's just the sort of thing I'd create if I'd come up with paint names like Serial Killer Red and Verdigris Crunch.

Somewhere along in the morning Michael reminded us that he would playing music all day, but at 4:00 (sharp!) he'd be playing the theme music to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly and we'd be expected to bring our creations (at whatever stage of completion) for a group show & tell and critique. I must admit that the first few times he said this I didn't really get the full import of his statement, and didn't even catch the ironic humour of the song title. Bruce and I had just re-watched The Good, The Bad and The Ugly a few weeks before Artfest, and my first thought was how cool the music was. Somewhere after lunch (when he said it again!) I finally got it. Also, my piece was definitely headed for the Ugly category at that point in the afternoon. Okay, maybe not "ugly", but definitely not "done".

At the appointed hour (4:00, as I mentioned) we all gingerly placed our ex-bottles (which were now sculptural to the nth degree) on a long table and gathered our chairs to see what Michael might make of our efforts. It's been awhile since I've been in on a critique session. Okay, there was a writing workshop with Lynda Barry, but her critique (as promised before the writing exercises) was simply to say: "Good! Good!" with genuine enthusiasm and move on to the next reader. So what would Michael say, I wondered. Firstly, I give him full marks for asking each person "Is your piece pickupable?" before gently holding it up for us to see. I can honestly say he never once said anything negative, even when the creator in question (including me) was not so confident about how exactly to finish off. I thought my piece was a little "light and frothy", especially compared to some of the darker pieces in the class, and Michael said not to worry, to finish it the way it wanted to be finished. I'm glad I listened, I kept it light, tending towards a kind of weathered Victorian ornamentation rather than the aforementioned Serial Killer Red.

If the variety of bottles before we started was exotic, the variety of things we'd done to them was astounding. The question I asked several times of the artist whose work was being held up was "HOW did you do THAT?!". There's something about the layering of paint and texture that can completely obscure the methods and materials, and that's pretty darn exciting when you're an artist ~ that you can make masking tape look like worn linen, that you can make glass look like rusted steel, that you can make plastic netting look like metal mesh (which is what is wrapped around my bottle).

I hadn't finished my piece by the end of the day, and I spent a few hours after class getting it ready for the Big Show & Tell at the end of Artfest (where all the students are encouraged to show the results of their 3-day adventure). When I bumped in Michael doing the rounds at the Show & Tell, he asked me if I'd finished. "Of course," I said. He asked me to show him what I'd done, and I have to say that even though I was pretty happy with what I'd done it was icing on the cake to have him *really* look at it and appreciate the final result. He looked almost as pleased as me, and then he high-fived me, which I think is quite possibly the first time in my life I've ever been high-fived and even thinking of it now makes me grin.

I'm not sure what to call this piece, although the name that sprang to mind while I was working on it was "Where Sweet the Late Bird Sang" in honour of a Kate Wilhelm SF story. It's been awhile since I read Kate's story, but in some ways this piece reminds me of her writing. You think you're reading about one thing, and then you find yourself aware of some darker undercurrent that's actually been present all along. At the Artfest Show & Tell, just as I was about to pack away my things, a young woman came along with a friend and said: "This is the one I was telling you about. You think it's all pretty, and then you see the hands underneath and you get a little chill ...". I smiled to myself and thought of Kate ... ah, *just* the affect I was going for.

Artfest 2011 - Part 3 - Encaustics!

2011-05-19T21:24:00.000-07:00

More about Artfest ... yes, I know it was in April, but I've been, well ... bizzy.

Today's image is from my encaustics class with Patricia Seggebruch. I'd tinkered with encaustics before ... even bought one of those little encaustic irons after 2 days of classes last year.

The classes I took last year were definitely a more painterly approach to encaustic wax. I struggled mightily to create things that looked like real trees and flowers with a medium that seemed spitefully determined to look like crashing sea waves, nebulae and psychedelic dream sequences in 1970's movies. I felt a certain urgency to get things right, even while the hot iron was sliding dreamily about on a cushion of hot wax which looked deliciously edible and exotic. At the end of two days I could see that if I stayed at it, I would eventually be able to do landscapes, floral arrangements and other non-psychedelic representations of reality.

The trouble was that I wanted something *deeper* ~ I wanted the wax to be absorbed into stuff, be embedded with stuff, be scratched into with tools and have pigment rubbed into it. I wanted encaustics that even the hard of seeing could enjoy ~ by running their fingers over edges and bumps. I wanted to look at the surface of the wax and feel like I was looking *through* something into something else ~ like fog, or water ~ getting hints and glimpses of what lay beneath. A kind of archaeologically sculptural experience, rather than a painterly one.

Luckily, that's exactly the kind of encaustics that Patricia was teaching at Artfest. What I've shown you here is my "warm-up" exercise ~ we were given three small boards, and then shown a whole bunch of possible ways to alter them. I decided immediately that I would make a tryptich showcasing as many techniques as I could ... the red panel has embedded pattern tissue, and surface incising with oil paint added. The center blue panel has image transfer, and scattered gold leaf crumbs embedded. The last yellow panel has texture built up by stencilling through punchinella, text made by impressing with metal letters and dotted lines made with a pattern tracing tool with red oil paint added. All three had underpainting with pigmented wax and their edges tinted with pan pastels, and then overpainted with medium again.

Our main project for the class was a book with wooden covers that we altered with encaustics, and although I tried a few more techniques, the end result was a little boring after the freedom of playing with the triptych. I think (having made more than a few books in my time) that I stayed to the tried and true in the book construction and really didn't let loose the way I had with the warm-up exercise. A shame that ... there were some really amazing books that came out of the class, mine just wasn't one of them.

So ... I have this *problem* when I make art ... I just get so *danged* attached to it that I can barely let it go. Whenever I make something, I always (yes, ALWAYS!) make two ~ so I can keep one. It makes the letting go a little easier. But I have to say ... encaustics might be the thing I can finally do where I'm not compelled to keep one of everything. I can see myself actually parting with my creations happily ... not because I don't love them just as much, but because they're so much fun to make that the sheer volume of keeping one of everything could easily overwhelm any storage space I might have. Of course, in reality, the supplies cost a fair whack, so that should help keep the volume down as well.

Since Artfest I haven't yet invested in all the accoutrements of encaustics (apart from buying the iron last year), but I know I will because it was just way too much fun. Now if I could just find a wholesale supplier of wax medium, I'd be a very happy camper ...

Bookish and loving it ...

2011-05-06T22:28:00.000-07:00

I've always loved books. I can't remember when I learned to read ~ certainly it was before I went to school ~ probably at age four or so. I know this because I have vivid memories of being bored out of my mind tracing 8" high fuzzy ABC's with my index finger in Grade One, and being seriously annoyed when I realized we weren't going to be given any *real* books until after lunch, or maybe even later.

I claim no particular genius in reading so early, it was most likely due to the fact that in my early years I lived in what we called "the bush", i.e. smallish dwellings in deep forests far from town, and without the benefit of television or (that I can recall), even radio. There were only limited options for self-amusement: go outside and play (which at some times in the year might result in freezing to death), make art (still doing that ~ plus ca change!), help with housework (um ... ick), and reading. Reading seemed the most reasonable of these, since constant art-making was not on the cards due to the shocking absence of craft stores in the deep forest. Reading had the added advantage that I could learn about the Great World Beyond, where I would (and eventually did) go. Even in the smallest of our dwellings, there was always a corner designated: The Library. It might only be a bookcase, but to us it was a Library. I didn't actually get my own public library card till I was 13 or 14 I think. But that's another story and completely unrelated to my reading habits.

Anyone who's been to my house can attest to my ongoing love of books. I *do* have a library card now, but I seldom borrow books. But only because I can't bear to give them back. It's like I form a bond with them ... a contract ... that having read them once, I will read them again, and again, and how can I do that if someone else has them? No ... better to buy them outright. Well, at least until you run into the problem we currently have - no more wall space for more bookcases. Sigh.

Meanwhile, back to the book that inspired this ramble ... or, why have I put a picture of Jonathan Safran Foer's book Tree of Codes here for you to see? I can't claim to have read it. I'm not sure if it's good. But it's definitely interesting. A book after my own heart. In order to find out why, I offer the following videos: public reactions, how it was mad e and Jonathan says.

In "how it was made" I was particularly touched by a scene midway (2:42) showing pages being hand-collated, a process I've been intimately involved with since I was 18 and continuing up to the present day. Oh, and the cutter shown at 2:33? I know my way around that, too. Granted, I spend much more time nowadays at a desk interacting with a computer (who doesn't?), but if push comes to shove (which it sometimes does), I can cut, collate and bind if needed. Maybe not on as grand a scale as the video, but hey - we can't all be big publishing houses, can we?

The video portrays my very familiar world in an almost romantic way ... the snow of little diecuts falling from the sky ... the tenderness of little suction cups feeding sheets into the press ... the lush musical score. And for all the times that I really really really do not want to go to work (constant art-making is much more fun), there is an ordered beauty to the printing process that makes me really happy too. And I wanted to share it with you.

Artfest 2011 - Part 2

2011-04-25T18:45:00.001-07:00

More on my adventures at Artfest ... this episode: too much fun with paint!

My first day's class was Roxanne Padgett's Lush Layered Canvas. I'd taken a class with Roxanne at Journalfest, so I had an inkling (paintling?) of what was coming, but I knew I had SO much more to learn from her. Like how not to be so timid with colours. Okay, I'm still timid, but it's not her fault ~ it's just going to take a few more whacks on the brain to make me more adventurous.

The first thing she had us do was paint a colour wheel, and you know in all the exposure I've had to art, art classes, art teachers and art supplies, I've never actually sat down and made a colour wheel before, and I gotta say - it was a treat. Yes, yes, of *course* I know the primaries, and the secondaries and even the tertiaries, and how it only takes a little bit of dark to significantly alter a whole bunch of light, but doing it was very instructive all the same. Roxanne's advice ("How *not* to make mud") was perhaps the most useful of all, since making mud is the thing that usually scares me away from playing with paint in the first place. We also learned about tints, shades and complements - the stuff that we all think we know about ~ and then you sit down and do it and you see it in a fresh way.

We worked on four pieces at once ... canvas, linen, bottom weight (no snickering out there!) and just your average pre-printed cotton. I eschewed the pre-printed cotton (which was too beautiful to paint on ~ sorry, Roxanne!), and opted to make my fourth piece on paper. Funnily enough, I think I like the paper one best of all. Probably because I chose colours near and dear to me (the colour coward wins again!). Anyway, that's the one I've shown you above. Our basic modus operandi was to start with broad strokes on the bottom layer, and work our way up to more and more detailed layers as we went. We moved from piece to piece, letting each successive layer dry as we did so ... by the time I finished layer one on the last piece, the paint on the first piece had dried enough to move on to layer two, etc etc.

I *did* try to coax the colour coward out of the box, but the results were (to my mind) so atrocious it's one of the few times I wished I could turn back time so I could *undo* my work and go back to the step before when I'd really, really, really liked the piece. Oddly enough, this is the piece (other) people seem to respond most positively to, so obviously I am *no* judge of anything. And no, I'm *not* going to show you that one. Well, not right now ... maybe after I stop sulking and trying to turn back time. This negative turn of events made me chicken out of finishing one of the other pieces, since I knew I was on the verge of Doing Something Undoable That I Might Regret to it and I wanted to think about it a bit before I did that. So that's why I'm not showing you that one either.

I blame *none* of this on Roxanne, who is an amazing and generous teacher. When I'd taken her class at Journalfest I spent most of my time muttering things like: brilliant!, why didn't I think of that? and OMG (in a good way). This time I resolved to a) take better notes, and b) take lots of photos, both of which I'm happy to say I did. I came home fired up to cut my own stencils! use paper plate palettes that become art in themselves! and never waste paint!

So far, I cut two stencils in class: an anatomical heart (loosely based on one of Roxanne's own stencils) and a rowboat, and since I got home I've been experimenting with a woodburning knife to *cut* my own stencils in acetate ~ hey, it works! Instead of paper plates, I've opted to use file folders for palettes (I have like 200 of them and they lay flat, and I can use their random painty goodness in future zines!). And I've been smudging, stenciling and stamping my about-to-be-leftover paint onto already-leftover bits of canvas lying about the studio. Cool ~ looks like I actually learned something.

The dress stencil I used on the piece above is one of Roxanne's own multi-step designs, and she has a *wealth* of ideas about stencils ~ commercially-available, cut-your-own, stuff that was never intended to be used as stencils, you name it ... she's made me aware that I should keep my eyes open at *all* times for hidden pattern and texture opportunities. I'd highly recommend anyone interested in this sort of stuff take a class with Roxanne - she's the bomb.

Artfest 2011 - Part 1

2011-04-11T23:27:00.001-07:00

I must be getting old ... coming home from Artfest feels like jetlag {artlag? festlag? surely there's a German word to describe this, they have a word for everything}. It might be sleep deprivation ~ I stay awake far into the nights {did I mention the military beds?}, or I'm too wired to sleep ~ my head brimming with ideas, and then it's back up at 7:00 to get breakfast before class each day. Thank heavens all I had to do was wander sleepily across to the commons building and into the buffet line, where some very nice {morning} people put lovely edible things on my plate.

I kept bumping into people I knew ~ either from other retreats, or from classes at previous Artfests, or from swapping through other websites {hey, beenebag!}. And this year something odd seemed to be going on ... I'm not sure why, but I felt more "settled". I've yet put my finger on the why of it, but I just felt more present and confident and at peace. I didn't do my usual "sit-at-an-empty-table-and-see-who-will-sit-with-me" shy thing I used to do in the dining room. With 500 or so people milling about with food trays {okay, maybe not ALL 500 at once!} there was always someone to sit with ~ so I did. I traveled down this year with my friend Rose {hey, Rose!} and we always looked for each other at meals, and even had our first day's class together, but then it was off in different directions.

There was the usual trading frenzy at the first dinner, and as I'd posted a link to this blog on the Artfest yahoo group, it was heart-warming indeed to have people actually recognize what I'd made from seeing my blog post beforehand. Apparently I'm still getting used to be out there blogwise. I made 120 trades and only came home with about 20 {never fear ~ they will find a home!}, and I received very creative stuff in return. Lots of people handed out collage packs, which came in VERY handy in class on day three. The trading pretty much continues throughout Artfest, and Rose very kindly kept pointing me in the direction of people who had cool stuff I hadn't seen yet {Have you traded with the pea lady yet? She's sitting over there ...}.

And now a word to my gentlemen readers {if indeed there are any}, here's something you might want to remember when faced with an audience of 500 or so artists {primarily women} who've come to take three days worth of classes with roly carts bursting with art supplies ... after dinner on the first night, Teesha and Tracy, our most excellent hosts, had the teachers and the Artfest crew come to the mic and introduce themselves ... and one of the volunteers nearly got a standing ovation for this: "Hello, my name is Richard, and I also know Tracy from an unnamed online game, and my passion is ... lifting heavy objects for women." Of course, your circumstances may vary, but I'm just saying, you might want to have this line in your repertoire.

More on Artfest in the next few days ... after I've recovered a little more from Festlag!

Prepping for Artfest ...

2011-04-02T22:53:00.001-07:00

It's that time of the year again, time to go off for a *massive* creative get together with 500+ like-minded folks ~ AKA: Artfest!

For those who've been to Artfest no explanation is necessary, for those who haven't been, it's hard to know where to start ... imagine summer camp for grown-ups, completely dedicated to the creative experience, hosted by people who are dedicated to creativity in their own lives.

The teachers are fabulous, the food is wonderful (I think *any * food I don't have to cook is wonderful, but seriously, it's a miracle we all don't gain 5 lbs in the 5 days we're there!), and the accommodation is ... um, barracks? Yep, that's right, the venue of this artful party was previously a military fort.

I'm scheduled to take three intriguing classes (more on this later), but there's so much beyond the classes at Artfest ... one of the traditions is that lots of people bring some small thing they've created. This year I've made three things to trade: a very traditional ATC (artist trading card), some artful little buttons and a rather clever (if I do say so myself) bobbin made by adding a whole whack of colour to a quite ordinary clothespin.

There's still a bunch of stuff I've got to do before I go, but I think I'm narrowing it down to the last few fragments and oddments ~ it's tempting to take a whole studio's worth of art supplies, but over the years I've learned to travel lighter each time. More about Artfest when I get back!

Sometimes retreating can be a good thing ...

2011-03-13T21:45:00.000-07:00

Just back from another of my quarterly art retreats with a group of friends in a little red farmhouse on an island not so very far away.

We started doing these retreats in August 2009, and I love how we've grown together as a group. As a person who plans overmuch, it is a real joy (especially the last few times) to turn up with the rolly cart full of supplies and my head empty of plans ~ letting whatever ideas come to me in that time and in that place be the thing I do.

Along with our mountains of art supplies, and an equally healthy supply of food (or is that supply of healthy food?), we also bring our favourite books to provide inspiration, and this time I let Sabrina Ward Harrison's Messy Thrilling Life give me the visual courage to create a series of 16 collages about the complications of growing up in a dysfunctional family. What I create at these retreats is often a surprise, even to myself. Immediately after I get home I am struck by the fact that something *interesting* that didn't exist before has been created, either by me learning a new technique ~ there is plenty of sharing around the table as we all work on our various projects, or by exploring some heretofore unknown nook of my heart and brain in the process of creating.

Those of you familiar with Sabrina Ward Harrison's work will see at once that I am nowhere *near* as loose and spontaneous as she is (planning overmuch rears it's ugly head again!), but you'll just have to accept that this *is* a step in that direction for me. The 16 collages tell a little story, and I relied on a very limited supply of materials to work from ~ no access to computers or the internet ~ mostly a few magazines, some washi tape, gesso and caran d'ache crayons. I *tried* to write as loosely as she does and make it look good, but I don't think I even got close. But am I happy with my series? You betcha.

A bazillion thanks to the women who make this experience possible ~ for their organizing skills, for their openness and generosity and creativity and even the cooking. Even? Surely I mean *especially* the cooking ~ I may learn a thing or two in the kitchen if I'm not careful. As a person who has stood on the outside looking in for a lot of my younger life, to be inside the circle is amazing ~ it just took me awhile to find you.

Wherever you go, my heart will follow ...

2011-03-01T22:35:00.000-08:00

Yet another of the heart-themed projects I created recently. This one was a page in a collaborative book hosted by Jeneen Weekes of the Courtenay, BC Artist Trading Card Group.

In some ways, this little piece (4.5" x 7") is a bit of a departure from my previous work. For one thing (and my friends will spot this right away), it uses a ton of colour. I've recently discovered the joys of digital paper, whereby you purchase a digital image that you can reprint as many times as you wish. This piece uses several layers of digital papers, and since the image is digital, you can layer things on top of it before you print, which is what I did here. I stamped the girl (I love Teesha Moore's quirky zettiology stamps!), then I removed her hat and drew in a suitcase. Then I scanned the new image, and laid it on top of the digital paper, which is a page of vibrantly coloured strips and printed it out. Then I cut out the girl and coloured her coat and stockings with pencil crayons. Torn strips of the digital paper become both the ground she stands on and the wall behind the El Corazon wall poster.

Various other things were done to the piece (obviously!) including sanding, a light gesso wash over a stack of admission tickets along the right-hand edge and overstamping with a flourish behind her head. I created nine separate pages, and on each one of them, the colour from the digital paper fell in a slightly different place (I moved my image around on the page before printing to make sure that happened!).

More Hearts, More Words ...

2011-02-25T17:38:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd post another of the hearts I monoprinted at the Richmond Art Gallery a few weeks ago. This one was based on the same basic drawing as the previous one, but I wanted it to look very different ... well, as different as one could expect being exactly the same size and shape and colour palette. The amount of watercolour paint I used for this one was so dense that I was actually able to make three increasingly faint prints from a single base painting.

I always had in mind that I would add text, although I wasn't quite sure what text and how I would add it. In the end I chose the very simple method of writing a poem in white ink over the whole piece. Yes, I know that some of the text disappears and is therefore unreadable, but I like it all the same. I created the monoprinted hearts for a project initiated by Melissa McCobb Hubbell, and she set not only the size and the theme but also the colour scheme ~ reds, pinks, browns, white, ivory, etc. This heart (okay, its twin) has been trimmed to 6"x6" and is one its way to Melissa, but abiding by my always make two rule, this one remains untrimmed and I've kept for myself. I might even frame it. I think.

The poem was written for the project. One of the things I *can* do (apparently) is produce a little verse on a particular topic fairly quickly. A few quiet moments concentrating deeply on something usually gives me a satisfactory result. My mother-in-law claims that I can do this because I am Welsh, and the Welsh are (according to her) able to knock out an ode without any undue effort. For many years now I've been trying to tell her that I'm no more Welsh than the next person, but she insists I am, based on my last name (19th most common last name in Wales). By this logic, my partner (her son) would be Canadian based solely on the fact that his last name is the 10th most common in Canada, although he's actually English (as were his parents, etc etc ad infinitum).

What I'm up to ...

2011-02-14T10:38:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know, two posts in one day, what am I thinking?

I was updating the long column of stuff to the left of my posts, and suddenly realized that probably not many people read that far down, so I thought I'd post it here as well ...

READING: Arcadian Adventures with the Idle Rich by Stephen Leacock. Written in 1914, a very funny satire of the upper crust of the American nouveau riche at the turn of the previous century in an unnamed but very New York-ish metropolis. At one time considered to be a better read than his classic Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town, and I can see why. But then I grew up in small towns, so I already knew their foibles. The foibles of the rich are infinitely more exotic.

WATCHING: Documentaries on TV. Have also recently re-watched Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, The Time Traveler's Wife and Frequently Asked Questions About Time Travel, all while working in the studio, so not *really* watching, more like listening while I work.

LISTENING TO: NPR online archives, especially Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me! I think they should do a show featuring the answering machine messages that Carl Kassell makes for the people who win their phone quizzes. Also digging the latest Radio Lab releases.

DOING: Mini-zines, Collaboratives & Tidying Up: I'm still making mini-zines once a month for a swapbot series. I recently launched a fabric collaborative book on the theme of Winter Trees (not due till May). I'm 2/3 of the way through 3 heart-themed exchanges hosted by other people. Prepping for Artfest (what oh what to make for trades!?), and I'm trying the take advantage of the slowdown at work to make some sense of the piles of stuff I call my studio.

ENJOYING: Links my brother sends me: What can I say? He knows my quirky tastes and sends me fun stuff to look at, here are a few that I've really enjoyed lately ...

- Animation of the human body as a machine
- Carl Sagan versus Astronomy
- How birds might use quantum entanglement to sense Earth's magnetic fields - okay, I see you out there doubting that this might be something I was already interested in, but I was just listening the other day to TWO documentaries about this ... one on how carrier pigeons find their way, even when they're blindfolded and driven hundreds of miles from "home", and another on magnetic pole reversal (did you know that the magnetic north pole wanders all over the north?) and how a reversal of the magnetic poles might affect bird migration.

And (since I was posting anyway) the pic is another of the hearts I monoprinted yesterday. This one will probably get stitching and mica buttons added to it.

Okay that's probably enough for today .... now it's back to tidying for me!

The Heart of the Matter

2011-02-14T09:40:00.000-08:00

I don't usually work with hearts as a rule, but in the last month I've done three projects using hearts as a theme. What can I say? When you get an invite to a project that looks intriguing, you give in and go with it.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon at a new adult art program at the Richmond Art Gallery called "Let's Make Stuff!". The idea is to bring something you're already working on and play in a creative environment with other artists.

Kathy invited us to try using their monoprint press, and since I'd come with no fixed idea on how to proceed except to make something heart-shaped, it seemed a good time to experiment.

I drew a basic heart shape, then overlaid it with a stiff acetate plate painted with gum arabic. Using watercolours I outlined the heart in black, and then loosely painted in the heart in red, and filled the background with a nice woody brown. After everything is completely dry, the acetate plate is put paint-side up onto the bed of the press and covered with a high-rag content print paper that has been soaking in water for about an hour (I squeegeed the paper between two sheets of blotter paper to remove the excess water first).

Sheets of heavy felt are laid over the paper/plate sandwich and then the whole press bed is crank-fed through the rollers. Then the print is gently pulled off the acetate plate, and you get what you hope is a decent print. Kathy told us this kind of printmaking has so many variables (roller pressure, moisture levels, paper quality, how you apply your initial paint to the plate, etc. etc.) that it takes years to predict accurately what's going to come out the other end.

Yesterday all of us seemed pretty pleased with what we got - and we all did wildly different things. Including pulling second and third (increasingly faint) prints off our painted plates (the term monoprint does rather imply ONE print per plate). Some people even ran the same paper through with the plate rotated to get a ghosted image interacting with the initial strong image. Ah, the joy of being a newbie! Wish I'd had the presence of mind to take pictures while we were doing this - it would have been infinitely more informative.

This heart will be the base of what I'm making for one of the projects. I intend to add something to it - probably handwritten text. I might even add some small collage elements if I can find the right touches. And, following my usual "always make two" rule, I have two to play with, so I've got at least a 50/50 chance of getting something I'll be happy to send off, and a 100% chance of having something to help me remember the process for our next Let's Make Stuff! session at the RAG.

PS - Yes, I'll post the other two heart projects (both using anatomical hearts) when the intended recipients have received them. Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day!

What fairy tale characters really carry in their pockets ...

2011-01-27T21:35:00.000-08:00

Perhaps I've been working in printing too long. Perhaps my access to fun clipart is too easy. Perhaps my brain has too much time on its hands (wait ~ brains have hands?). Whatever the reason, here are a few quirky little business cards I designed for a fairy tale themed project over at swapbot.

The project actually only called for 4 cards, but the mercurial bot at swapbot assigned me two people who live at the same address, and I thought: well, how much fun would it be to get *exactly* the same thing as the other person you live with, so my brain went into overtime and designed 10 different business cards for fairy tale characters. The first six cards came easy peasy. The next two ideas required a little coaxing. The last two were extracted painfully from the dim recesses of logic (who *hadn't* I thought of in fairy tale land that really needed their own business card?). I'm only showing four of the ten here (so as not to spoil the surprise for those on the receiving end), but I assure you there are ten in all.

My favourite is SHOD ~ Our Shoes are Magic. I love it's simplicity. And anyone who knows me knows that I *so* need some magic shoes. My feet and off the shelf shoes have never agreed. And when I do find a comfy pair, they never last. Sigh.

Cloak & Dagger was a fun card to make. Modeled slightly after Mr. Big & Tall, only my version is more like Mr. Big & Tall & Mean with a Very Pointy Stick. I agonized over how to describe their specialization ~ not wanting to be politically incorrect and assign any real-life people to stereotypical henchman status. I quavered over hunchbacks. I still wonder if I chose right. My apologies to any hunchbacks I may have offended.

I blame the plethora of eHarmony commercials for eMagicMatch (tm). Let's hope their legal department has a sense of humour and knows when they're being *homaged*. But how could I resist communication fortnights and personality inquisitions? They were ideas simply begging to be used.

Stepmother Counseling was one of the last two (that were painfully extracted from the dim recesses of logic). They really have got the short straw in fairy tales, I think. Not *all* stepmothers can be bad, can they?

A few hints at what you didn't see ... Cauldrons 'R' Us has a Boil & Bubble special discount ("Now you're cooking!"), Wand-a-Riffic is located (of course) on Waverly Place, and you simply must use Mercury Messengers for when it absolutely, positively has to be there in a FLASH!

There's also an enchanted food detection service called How About Them Apples? specializing in rooting out tainted teas, poisoned potions and fiddled fruit. Crown Cleaners will handle your messes like magic (you can reach them at 555-PAY-DIRT), and Merlin the Mapmaker promises to be precise in scribing a route for your quest, but lists his own location as "next to the tavern, knock twice", which seems oddly vague.

As you might imagine I had quite a lot of fun making these. When the ideas start to arrive I describe the experience as a kind of "free-fall" through my brain. One of the many things I've learned over the years is not to let a good idea get away. You think you will remember ~ but you won't. Which is why I have a shelf full of journals that take me back to moments when I was on a roll idea-wise.

More altered playing cards ...

2011-01-18T21:27:00.001-08:00

Over the next little while I plan to post almost the entire deck I created for the series of altered playing cards I worked on last year through swapbot. I'd like to think I eventually got the hang of it, so some of the early ones will be, well let's say "less good", while the later ones will be brilliant. Of course, I jest. There may be some "less good" ones later on as well. I'll let you be the judge.

One of the quirky things about working on a series is that I sometimes get a kind of affection for the parts of the series completely out of proportion with the *actual* quality of the work. One of the set will have a lovely composition, but alas the colours are less than perfect. Another will exactly be the colour I wanted, but oh my, how badly assembled! C'est la vie. Now ... on to the twos!

The two of diamonds is very tactile. Not merely *striped* paper, but quite strongly corrugated and painted a nice deep red. The background paper is *bubble paper*, created (as I recall) at nearly midnight in a tiny hotel bathroom during an art conference with my friend L. We were up well past bedtime, blowing bubbles and giggling, and thinking that the hotel management would be at the door any moment to chuck us out for being too noisy.

The two of spades has nothing to do with fish, except that it gave me an opportunity to use one of my favourite lines of poetry: "And in the heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish." It was finding this single line in another work of art that spurred me on to find the entire poem (pre-wikipedia, I might add!). The poem (Heaven by Rupert Brooke) has several other lines that while deliciously vivid are much harder to work into conversation. When (for instance) would be the right time for these lines: "But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, is wetter water, slimier slime"?. I'd like to think that you are (at this very moment) opening a second window on the internet, googling the whole poem and loving it as much as I do.

The two of hearts has two of my favourite things in it. Firstly, the rubber stamp with the pointing finger. I simply can't tell you how things that finger has pointed at in my art over the years. As you see here, I particularly love stamping it on text, to give it that extra je ne sais quoi. And secondly, the line: Always make two, so you can share. I have a terrible affection for everything I make. Really. I *hate* to give stuff away. Not that I'm stingy, but it feels like giving away one of my children. The solution I've developed over the years is to: Always Make Two. At least. Then I can keep one, and give the others away with a happy heart.

The two of clubs is fairly straighforward. It was obviously created during my red / black / white / ivory / tan colour phase. I finally seem to moving on from this limited palette, and other colours are gradually returning. The background paper was made while I was in mad spray-painting mode. During the summer I got *very* excited about spray paint, particularly after I found some great artist spray paint that comes in about 80 colours and dries so quickly that I could spray and stack the pages as I went. I only have 5 colours so far, but I'm looking forward to when the weather warms up so I can *go get more*.

More number sets coming soon!

Wrapping up a swapbot series ...

2010-12-30T22:23:00.000-08:00

Over the course of 2010, there's been a Swapbot group devoted to making a deck of altered playing cards. The project had everyone in the group making 2 of each card and mailing them out to two other participants. I chose to make 3 of each card - mailing out two, and keeping my *own* set as well. I joined the project after it had begun, so I have a few gaps in my deck, but I thought I'd share a few here.

One of the requirements of the project is that the suit and value of the card should remain visible and/or be obvious. In recent cards I've been creating very lean graphic interpretations of the suit and number. I've also been playing with texture (not so obvious on your screen, I know).

The 4 of Diamonds has textured paper glued on the back after the *real* diamonds on the card were cut out. The paper on the front is also textured (oooh, fuzzy!). The 5 is black paint stamped on brown butcher paper with a file folder label. The 6 was created by cutting out six diamonds and playing around with interesting patterns. The 8 is a simple nod to the eight directions of the compass. These four make a nice set colour-wise as well - although that was completely unintentional. I've been stuck in a red / black / tan / ivory colour scheme lately. Can't explain it and don't know when I'll be out of it. Not yet, obviously.

Anywho ... may post more of my cards in the future - but thought you might like a peek at a few of my favourites so far.

Returning to the Blogosphere

2010-12-20T23:24:00.000-08:00

I see it's been awhile since I posted. Well, you know, sometimes these *new* habits don't take the first time around. So here's another go ...

I've decided to Post More Art. Which (considering the amount of time I spend in the "studio") shouldn't be hard to do - or so you'd think. I make art ALOT, but often it's for projects that are in the works, and if I posted it here it would spoil the surprise for someone, so I tend not to post what I've just done, and by the time it would be *okay* to post it, well ... I'm off in another direction, and the last project doesn't get posted.

Maybe you have the same feeling I have - whatever it is I'm working on at this very minute is the Best Thing I've Ever Done. And last week's project? Well, just not the same at all. But I've decided to throw caution to the wind in the future and post pictures of stuff I make on a more regular basis. I mean, posting art should be easy, shouldn't it?

But (having just said all that), this post's artwork is NOT by me, but by Theo Nelson, who (out of the blue) sends me postcards of his artwork a couple of times a year - and I always love his stuff - so full of bright colours ~ crisp and clean and makes me want to go make more art (how much more art can I make, I ask?). Not sure how I got on his mailing list, but thanks, Theo!

So here's Theo's latest offering: The Lions in Winter. If you live in Vancouver, you don't have to ask. I look at the Lions at least once a day - at this time of year to see how far down the snow is, and Theo's got it exactly right. To see more of Theo's work check out his website. And make sure to check out his prairie landscapes - if you've ever been to the prairies you will LOVE those clouds. My personal favourite from his prairie ATC collection? "Disappearing Elevator Blues" - now there's a prairie title for you.

Exhausted and well worth it ...

2010-10-16T22:47:00.000-07:00

Who knew sitting still all day and talking to people could be so exhausting? Had a wonderful time at Canzine West - sold enough zines to make it all worthwhile financially - but that's never really been the point for me. I love talking to people - finding out what fires their creativity - what artist inspires them (maybe one I've never heard of - hey, it happens!). And when it comes to selling I'm almost more pleased to get trades from other zine makers than cash (I know - how *uncapitalistic* of me!).

Maybe because Canzine West followed so closely on the heels of WOTS (AKA Word on the Street) it seemed like there were a lot of familiar faces today - both behind the tables selling (or trading!)and in front of the tables buying. The fact that the space was large enough to accommodate plenty of both was great. And the diversity was fabulous - it really did have the feel of a *cultural fair* about it. I'm so glad I went - even if my face does hurt from smiling (and laughing, and talking).

One of these days I will *actually* post pics of the zines in question (really, I will!), and maybe (gasp!) even start selling them online, I mean I can't keep waiting for zine events to come around, can I?

Had some really great interactions today ... people who were new to zining and therefore eager to start their first one, and people whose work is not only familiar to me, but I already own most of their body of work (I really am a *collect the whole set* kinda gal).

I know, you were probably hoping for a pic here - any pic, but sorry ... need to go finish making some Artist Trading Cards for our monthly ATC swap tomorrow. Ah, the life of an artist ... never dull, I'll say that much. Photos at 11, or whatever blog phrase is equivalent to that.

Where to find me Saturday (hm ... sounds familiar)

2010-10-11T21:11:00.001-07:00

This Saturday, October 16, I'll be selling zines at Canzine West. They invited me to be a vendor and since I already have all my zines ready and priced (from Word on the Street), I thought I might as well. The hours are more to my taste (starting at 1 pm) and I'm curious to see what Canzine West might look like, and well, I was going to go check it out anyway, so going as a seller isn't much more difficult. The table rental was amazingly reasonable, and it includes a subscription to Broken Pencil Magazine.

In fact, it looks pretty much like Broken Pencil is part and parcel of participating, even as a spectator ... I see the $5 entry fee also gets you a copy of their fall issue. It's been awhile since I had a look at Broken Pencil ... I remember it as quirky and fun and well, interesting. I look forward to reading it and hope it jiggles loose whatever writing/reading block I've been experiencing ever since I started making art.

Back in the day (pre "art making") I used to be well-read - not a voracious reader, but always in the middle of two or three books at a time. I even wrote on a fairly regular basis - then everything went visual. Not that I'm complaining, I love making art, and words always manage to be part of what I do, but lately I can't seem to get through even a full page of text before my head begs off and my hands want to "do" something instead.

Here's the specs for Canzine West ... if you find yourself in downtown Vancouver and zines are your thing (or you wonder if they might be) and you'd like your own bright shiny new copy of Broken Pencil, come say hi ... I'll be in there somewhere.

Saturday, October 16, 2010, 1pm - 7pm,
W2 Storyeum, 151 West Cordova Street
Cost: $5 at the door.
Includes a copy of the fall issue of Broken Pencil.

Giant Zine Fair: Over 150 zines from across Canada on display and for sale! The heart of the event, indie publishers both in print and online come from across the country and the continent to show their wares! Be amazed at the creativity, ingenuity, and sheer weirdness!

Where to find me Sunday

2010-09-21T21:31:00.001-07:00

This coming Sunday I'll be at Word on the Street, Vancouver's Annual Book and Magazine Festival, go here for more info. More accurately, I'll be at Word UNDER the Street in the Alma Van Dusen Room, from 11am to 5pm - selling zines and other fun stuff with my friend Dawn (AKA Misti Ko). We had such fun last year - not getting rich by any means, but there's more to life than money, like trading our zines with other zine creators, for one thing! I wanted to post a picture of all the zines I'm selling, but (you guessed it!) they're still in production. I'll try and post a photo before Sunday, but I can't guarantee - life just got exceedingly busy again ...

I had a funny feeling that some of my *art* deadlines were getting away from me, so last week I started a spreadsheet to keep track of them (yes, I know - how *virgo* of me), and between last week and mid-November I have 16 project deadlines. Some are little (and will be quick to complete) some are huge and still in formation. Some are even *done* (fancy that!) and just waiting for addresses to be assigned (darn you, swap-bot!), but I will definitely be keeping my nose to the art grindstone for the next two months. But hey, better an art deadline than any other kind, I say.

And speaking of art deadlines ... here's a funny thing that happened this morning. Or it would have been funny had it not happened at 4:30 am (did I mention I'm not a morning person?). Over the last month or so I've been mulling over ideas for one of my larger, as yet unstarted projects. I would mention which one, but some of the people who read my blog (and who are also part of the project) might be surprised to find I haven't even started yet ... anywho ... at 4:30 this morning my brain wakes me up with a great idea. Well, okay, my brain thought it was great, personally the jury is still out, but on with my story ... darn brain wouldn't shut off. Anyone standing outside my window (quite a feat considering I'm not at ground level) would have seen my light going on and off multiple times over the course of two hours while ideas continued demanding to be written down. One thing I've learned is that when ideas arrive you darn well better pay attention to them or they wander off and are never heard from again.

So there's me ... scribbling down strange ideas at 4:30 am - and practically giggling with glee to boot, if it's possible to giggle while only partially awake. So now it's problem solved - got it all worked out - just have to create I what saw in my mind's eye, and (in my dream) physically held in my hands. Well ... at least I know what it's supposed to look like.

Just wondering ... do any of you pre-visualize your finished artwork? I mean like actually *see* it in your dreams - complete, framed, mounted, published and being enjoyed by others in your dream, while your dream self is busy memorizing what it looks like so you can *make* it when you wake up? Just curious.

Okay ... well, back to the art mine! But I thought if I didn't tell you where I'll be, and why I haven't posted lately you'd all think I got lost on my way to the keyboard. See you Sunday? Oh, and bring a brolly for the outside Word on the Street stuff, but down at Word Under the Street, we'll be warm and dry, so come buy our zines. More info about us here, where we are listed as "pengrafyx & ko"

Birthdays - and looking forward & back ...

2010-09-06T21:05:00.000-07:00

Well, it's happened. I've just celebrated one of those milestone birthdays. You know - the ones that are supposed to give you pause, make you examine your life and see where you've been, where you are and where you're going. Oddly enough, having spent my whole life not celebrating birthdays, this one passed in a similarly uneventful way. As it happened, we were on vacation at the time, and we managed to find a low-key (but charming) heritage house turned restaurant on the extreme western edge of Vancouver Island where we had a lovely dinner. I had the steak, it was wonderful. They did everything to a steak that I can't do, or more accurately, they DIDN'T do to a steak what I would do - which is turn it into shoe leather. There was a shocking absence of singing waiters, presents, cake/candles and the like. Which suits me fine. Honest.

On the other hand ... I HAVE been reviewing my life in the last few days, but not because of my birthday. I've been working on a swapbot project about fairy tales. One of the options is to write your own and (coincidentally) I actually wrote a fairy tale of sorts lo, all those many years ago when I thought I might become a writer. The only trick was to find it. Somewhere in my many journals - I knew that much, but what year? Good question.

So I've spent a few evenings reading back through my journals looking for the story ... essentially time traveling backwards through my life, becoming younger and younger, more and more naive, more and more self-centered the further back I go. While it's sometimes excruciatingly boring (and even embarrassing) to read what my younger self has written, it is heartening to see that I have actually progressed in my life. I'm not saying I wish I hadn't written it all. I'm just saying that most of it will be burned in the event of my death.

The other shocking thing (and a positive shock at that), is the sheer amount of *writing* I've actually done. I've been sticking a post-it note on every page where I think I've written something of interest, particularly poetry, or a pithy bit of prose, and I now have a virtual forest of post-it notes poking out the tops and sides of my journals. Weirdly cool and satisfying to look at. And some of it I hope to gather in some form, since the idea of indexing my journals makes me queasy (oh my heavens, the sheer *volume* of content is daunting, let alone trying to think of keywords for most of it!).

I don't want to sound self-congratulatory, and I wouldn't want to get anyone's hopes up about the *quality* of my writing, but I find I have quite real affection for the body of work, as flawed and unfocused as it might be. As I read each bit, I get a vivid picture of the where and the why of the writing, and I see myself as I was then - young, naive and self-centered sometimes, but always trying to see the good in things, to see the way forward, to find my purpose, to make sense of life, as I believe we all do.

So maybe there's something to this milestone thing after all ... the two events are merely coincidental (birthday + a project that has me reading back through my journals), but I do feel that I've been looking forward & back, and (for the most part) liking what I see.

Giving & Receiving & Where it can take me ...

2010-08-20T16:31:00.000-07:00

You know I mentioned Swapbot and how I'd been trading there recently? Well, sometimes a project will lead me into new, strange corners of information ...

Exhibit A: "The Discover a New Poet" swap
... what I sent: a postcard with Mervyn Peake's poem "Conceit", it's lines of text cut into strips and remade into the branches of a tree, surrounding the a single black and white line drawing of a bird. The poem (in case you're not familiar with it):

Conceit

I heard a winter tree in song,
Its leaves were birds, a hundred strong,
When all at once it ceased to sing,
For every leaf had taken wing.

... What I received: Poems by Honoree Fanonne Jeffers, a poet I've never heard of, including 2 poems from her collection "The Gospel of Barbecue". And though my mailing partner mentioned that Ms. Jeffers had an excellent blog, she didn't give me a link, so I went off in search of it, and found this in the process. And after you've listened to a three-year-old reciting Billy Collins' poem "Litany", you might want to go here and listen to the man himself. Poetry lives!

And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street ...

2010-08-14T12:28:00.001-07:00

So here I am, a beautiful Saturday morning in the studio, with the sun shining and yes, the sounds of the city all around me ... thinking about how I grew up in the country (we called it The Sticks), and reflecting on how different I am from everyone else in my family, a couple of whom have *tried* the city but in the end decided to move back to The Sticks. About how much happier I am with the sound of the city around me. The birds - the seagulls, crows and whatever the heck that bird is that wakes me up about 6:30 am every day with the repetitive twee-whoo call.
How much I love the the sounds of people living ... children laughing (and even fighting), lawn mowers, and barbecue parties (oh, the tasty aromas! why wasn't I invited?). Then there's the sound of fireworks ... closer to home at Nat Bailey Stadium or the Symphony of Fire out over English Bay, both of which I can hear (they sound like distant popcorn) but neither of which I can see. I love my *quiet* Saturdays at home in the studio.

My neighbourhood is *in transition*, and even though I loved this neighbourhood *before* we moved here, we are a part of its gentrification. In our case, this meant tearing down a near-collapsing old house and replacing it with a new one. To be fair, we originally thought we could resuscitate, but one look at the foundation, and the plumbing, and the wiring, and oh my, that idea went out the window pretty quick. Anyway, the thing is ... in the summer when there is no rain, there is always something under construction within earshot ... a new roof going on, a fence being repaired, and yes, I admit, even more old houses being replaced by new ones.

So this morning, in the middle of my thinking all these things ... I slowly became aware of a rhythmic pounding (not unusual, as I say) ... and then realized the rhythm had a ... tune? ... and the tune was ... wait a minute ... ah yes, there it is: You Are My Sunshine! Sounding like it was being played by a hundred sets of silverware hitting a hundred chandeliers. Well, that's odd, I thought, and I went to see where the noise was coming from, and it was coming from: my street.

I ran down the stairs (foolishly forgetting my camera!) and went out to see what was going on ... and it was a Parade! Stretching as far as I could see in either direction ... marching bands! people in costume! flowers! colour! children and old people and dogs, oh my! I hustled upstairs quicklike and fetched the camera ... who was going to believe me without photographic evidence? I should point out that we don't live on any kind of major street so parades are not the usual thing at all. One of the people passing handed me a flier saying it was the First Ever Filipino Cultural Street Parade, and it was really, really amazing. Brought a tear to my eye to see everyone out there smiling, waving, dancing, singing ... BEING. Made me wish that I had an ethnic community to march and celebrate with (does an artistic community count?).

All my neighbours were out on the sidewalk, too. People who are familiar, that I wave to in passing, but don't really *know* at all ... and I was suddenly reminded that this new neighbourhood I live in is multi-multi-ethnic, which is one of the reasons I love it so much. 'Cuz amazing things can happen ... like a parade when you least expect it.

Work in Progress: I Heart Zines Exchange

2010-08-13T10:15:00.001-07:00

Today I'm working on my contribution for Alma Stoller's annual I Heart Zines Exchange, so here's a little teaser photo of some of the latest bits I've done. The red paper bags will hold the final zine. I've made them with recycled photocopier test sheets (for the lovely black inside) then spray-painted through paper lace on the outside and hand-stitched the bottoms. The little birdie envelopes will go inside the zine and hold, well ... to say too much is to give everything away, but obviously birds will be involved. I made them with leftover vellum strips, a bit of tissue tape and an appropriate bird stamp. I'm still going through a "I love red & black" phase - but maybe this project will finally beat that out of me. I know there are other colours out there, really I do.

The funny thing about this particular zine, and the way I've been working lately, is that it started off being about one thing and somehow morphed into something else. A few months ago I started doing some trading on swapbot, and it's really encouraged me to be more spontaneous and to trust my creative intuition. There are a ton of people on swapbot swapping all kinds of things, including things that make me shake my head and wonder why. It's kind of like a lobster - you can ignore most of its bulk and just go for the tasty bits you enjoy most. For me, that's zines, mini-zines and the occasional "hey, that sounds like fun!" project.

I also swap ATCs on swapbot, but swapbot ATC swaps are often 1 for 1, and I'm used to a more, how do you say *numerous* approach to ATCs, thanks to our *very* active ATC group in Vancouver. We usually have between 15 and 20 people each month at our trades, so to show up with less than 10 (and for me, less than 20!) seems a shame.

Now, must get back to working on the mysterious bird-related I Heart Zines exchange ... that deadline is coming up FAST!

One of those ideas I wish I'd thought of first ...

2010-08-09T10:07:00.000-07:00

This happens to me quite often ... I'm poking around the internet and see something so quirky and simple and neat that I wish I'd thought of it first. Take for instance Marc Johns' lovely: deluxe carrying case for an ampersand.

I'm not sure how I got to Marc's blog (ah, the wonders of endlessly clicking ...) but once there I had a good look around and smiled several times, outright giggled several times more and felt a pang of creative envy (in a good way, of course) several more times than that. It's not like my brain is devoid of creativity, but there's nothing like a jumpstart from someone who gets at least as many good ideas as you do (and probably way more), and has the drawing and organizational skills to Get It Out There. Thanks, Marc, for a creative kick in the pants!

To see more of Marc's work, I'd recommend his website. I'm particularly fond of his sets of drawings on sticky notes and rat traps (yes, I said rat traps, go look). Uh oh, I feel another pang of creative envy on the way ...

*Image & link published with permission. Thanks, Marc!

A night at the CBC with A.M. Smith

2010-08-04T23:15:00.000-07:00

Just home from a wonderful evening at the CBC (that's the MotherCorp, the Canadian Broadcasting Company for those of you NOT North of the 49th). I was lucky enough to be invited to a North by Northwest taping of Alexander McCall Smith. If you're familiar with the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, 44 Scotland Street and (my personal favourite) the Portuguese Irregular Verbs Series, you'll know his name already and may even be knee deep in at least one of his ongoing series of books.

He's just launched another series, beginning with Corduroy Mansions, which includes (as well as many human characters) a vegetarian Pimlico terrier named Freddie de la Hay. Mr. Smith has written something like 70 books, although he claims that some of them are childrens' books and therefore shouldn't count, even though they do have covers and page numbers. He claims to write between 4 and 5 books a year (I believe it - he is hard to keep up with!), and says it's not so much that he sits down to write, it's as if his characters go on living when he's off writing other things, and then he sits down one day and asks what they've been up to while he's been gone.

Amongst the interesting facts he revealed this evening ... that he's just in the last day or so begun the next in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Series (a lot of which he says he writes when he stays here in Vancouver, where his sister lives), that he has an inordinate fondness for a musical group called Kenny Young and the Eggplants, and that he can't possibly explain why 97% of his readers are women, except that perhaps the men who read him still haven't come out to their friends and families.

I was expecting a Scottish accent of some sort, but he sounded decidedly English to me (and I should know, having cohabited with one for more than 20 years now). He was terribly funny, but in that dry, understated way the Brits are famous for. Although at one point he nearly joined the audience in a fit of gleeful giggles while reading a particularly amusing passage from Corduroy Mansions. He seemed genuinely and shyly pleased by the attention, applause and laughter from the audience. He very kindly stayed afterward to sign books for (and take pictures with) anyone so inclined. My face hurts from smiling - and that's always a good thing.

P.S. As well as a future podcast, the interview will be aired on CBC AM the next two Saturdays from 8 am to 9 am (PST) on North by Northwest. Go here for more details, and if you hear someone laughing while you listen ... well, yes, that was me.

And another P.S. - Mr. Smith mentioned that he's been serializing several of his books online lately, and indeed if you go here you can hear Andrew Sachs (AKA Manuel of Fawlty Towers fame) reading the next book in the Corduroy Mansions series: The Dog Who Came in From the Cold.

Creative rewards of another fabulous art retreat

2010-07-28T19:52:00.000-07:00

Just back from another wonderful artist retreat ... four days of nothing to do but Make Art (and share and laugh and eat, too, of course). Imagine nine creative women with WAAAAY too many art supplies in a idyllic saltbox farmhouse on a sunny island. It's always amazing to me how relaxed and casual it all is - and yet how productive we wind up being. I find I create things that weren't even in my imagination when I arrived.

Ever since we started these retreats, I've been inspired by Celeste's handmade journal - which is this amazing ongoing collection of quotes, labels, lists and other interesting stuff from her everyday. There's something so rich about putting your real life on the page - including the things that touch you, not editing out what is usually deemed to be trivial, letting yourself play intuitively as the page and the moment decree.

I love the structure of her journal - the "looseness" of it - the fluidity of the stitches, the non-preciousness of the page material, the seeming randomness of its content, and I decided this was the retreat to make one for myself. Since we had an ample supply of red rosin paper (thanks, Michelle!), and magazines to collage from, (and did I mention the WAAAY too many art supplies?) so I started folding and slicing and reinforcing folded page edges and stitching .. and then a few little twists and turns later, it turned into something similar-ish, but not much like her journal. I realized that if you change the size, the page materials, the stitch construction and a few other things - you get something entirely different - in my case "La Musee d'une Vie Inventee" (that's Museum of an Invented Life, by the way).

But the next day Celeste (and Paula!) decided they liked my new journal size, and created their own versions. Celeste's version used maps for the page-edge reinforcement and was stitched with oh-so-appropriate red thread, so now I may have to make one of those, too. I love this group!

Busy, busy, busy ...

2010-07-20T23:59:00.001-07:00

Have had a couple of very busy days ... mostly art-related. Sunday was the monthly trading session of the Vancouver Artist Trading Card Group (of which I am the current coordinator). As well as our usual ATC trading, it was also "hand-in" day for our spring/summer collaborative project: a book of decorated and stuffed envelopes on the theme of "Mail Art". The next step is to collate all the books, bind them and return them to the group at the August trading session. I've had some very generous offers of help in the collating & binding department, and I'm no fool - I said yes to anyone who wants to come help. Besides, we'll finally be putting my sunny patio to good use (I'm hoping it'll be sunny on the day in question!). Who could say no to an art party?

One of the things I LOVE about these collaboratives is how much variety we wind up with. How everyone interprets the theme differently, then uses whatever materials, skills and interests they have to share their best work with each other.

Since Art has become such a big part of how I spend my time, I think it bears saying that 10 years ago I wouldn't have dreamed about capitalizing the word "Art", or feel qualified to call myself an "artist" if it hadn't been for several years of positive feedback on my work from people who I thought of as artists and whose work inspired me to create. I know I'll never get rich making art (I'm not nearly ambitious enough), but I believe being able to tell the stories that live inside us - to express ourselves in a creative form - is a strong force in humans, and the form (for me) is visual as well as verbal. I never know what's coming next - and I've stopped worrying about it - I am happy to create and happier still when people have a positive response to it.

And I stopped resisting because ...

2010-07-16T20:20:00.000-07:00

It really is time to have a blog. It's time to expand on my current journal system, which goes something like this: I see neat stuff on other people's blogs, I make a note of the most fascinating details and source information in a pre-formatted document on my computer and eventually I print it out (on real paper!) and add it to my handwritten journal which I keep adding to throughout the year.

There are upsides to doing things this way. In the words of Oscar Wilde: "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on the train." I suspect my journal is sensational for far less sensational reasons than Oscar's might have been, but when I find myself "stuck somewhere" ~ a bus stop, or waiting for an appointment or at The Railway (more about this in some future post), I have something interesting to read, as my journal is crammed full of cool stuff that other people are doing or have done, and I've got plenty of blank pages to play with should I get inspired by what I've just read. And I really genuinely do travel with it 100% of the time. Next time you see me, ask me and, Yes, I will have it with me.

There are downsides to a paper journal though. It's not searchable, which is becoming a tool to be devoutly wished for the older I get. I can't share my paper journal with anyone who isn't within arm's reach. And I have to keep taking my journal apart to put in new pages every time I "update". The limitations of paper I can live with, and I'll probably never stop making paper journals, but sometimes I'd love to share some of the fun stuff a little bit sooner than the few times a year I happen to show my journal to friends.

So a blog will be somewhere they can peruse the stuff in comfort, click on a link and oh, hey - so that's what she was talking about. Sounds cool to me.

I think I'm done with the introductions ... next post will have something of more substance, probably about art. Or at least more interesting than me talking about me. I promise.

And I resisted because ...

2010-07-15T13:44:00.000-07:00

In the words of Piet Hein in his Grook on Long-winded Authors ...

Long-winded writers I abhor,
and glib, prolific chatters;
give me the ones who tear and gnaw
their hair and pens to tatters:
who find their writing such a chore
they only write what matters.

I feel there's a balance required between being out in the world (blog-wise) saying any old thing that comes to mind, and only saying what matters. The problem with saying any old thing is well ... that you're prone to say any old thing. The problem with saying only what matters is that opinions will be held! Reactions will occur! And there'll be (gasp!) conflict. I'm not a big fan of conflict. So I'm hoping I'll strike some kind of balance here. I expect people will let me know when I get it wrong (by no longer reading or sending me snippy comments). But maybe they'll let me know when I get it right. too. That'd be nice.

Everyone says I ought to have a blog

2010-07-14T23:10:00.000-07:00

And I've felt it myself sometimes. I know I visit enough blogs, and I really ought to get my toe in the water before it's too late and we're all wired to the net through our cerebral cortex. I thought I'd start by saying something about this image ... She came about as part of a self-portrait collage project a few years ago, and I call her the Art Angel. The angel herself is an announcing angel from a brochure on churches of Italian hill towns. My angel (should you find yourself in that part of the world) is from San Gimignano. She looked a little near-sighted (as am I), so I gave her glasses. And I couldn't resist a little third eye of a spiral on her forehead, or perhaps it's an adornment of some ancient kind. Her halo is the answer from a crossword puzzle book so she is radiating ideas (as do I sometimes). Other than having glasses and radiating ideas, she doesn't look anything like me, so if you're wandering around and happen to see someone who looks like this, I'd advise you not to act like you know her (or her blog). The text along her neckline reads: So many ideas! Must make art! which is pretty much how I feel most of the time. Really.