It's Papergirl time again ...

Yes, it's that time again ... time to create something interesting to give away to complete strangers on the street. After mulling over no less than 5 different ideas in my journal, I found myself drawn back (pardon the pun) to these organic plant-type thingies I've been creating lately. They popped up last month just in time to become Artist Trading Cards (see my post on the Vancouver ATC blog if you want the whole story) and I guess I'm not done with them yet. Pictured below are two incarnations they've had lately ... first as ATCs (as mentioned) and since I had some left over after our ATC session, the leftovers are being turned into book covers that I can give away as part of Michael DeMeng's Art Abandonment project.

For the Papergirl project I'm all about quantity (share the love, right?) ... so my plan was to create a simple black and white artwork and then print a 100 or so of them for Papergirl Vancouver to distribute. I love organizing things on a grid, so I made 4 variations of each of the 4 designs, drawn on text pages from an interesting (and damaged) German book I found years ago.

Here's the full grid of drawings ... I'm calling it Botanical Studies, but that might be a bit of leap, since it's more like Botanical Imaginings, what with me not actually looking at anything while I drew them. I'm terribly terribly tempted to paint one panel on each print when they're printed ... but there's something simple and beautiful in the black and white by itself, and what with the time crunch ~ the deadline for Papergirl submissions is July 18 ~ I may leave them as they are ... any thoughts?

The funny thing is that I was completely unable to decide between my 5 other ideas ... all very interesting and they may see the light of day some other day, but when these popped back into my head this morning I knew where I was headed, and I had the whole thing completed before lunch. Oh, and in case you were wondering what I did last year for Papergirl ... here's a little reminder.

Postcard Love ...

Just thought I'd post a quickie pic of the postcards I made for a recent International Postcard Swap I participated in ... they're on the way to their various recipients, all of whom are new art contacts for me, so there's very little chance they're reading my blog (yet!), so they won't see what's headed their way ... but I thought you folks might like a look. If you detect a certain "bantockishness" to them you'd be right ... I'm getting in the groove for an upcoming class with Nick Bantock.

Gotta say not only is this one of my favourite colour schemes ~ gold + blue (notice how it matches my blog background?), it's also one of my favourite themes (celestial). Now if only I could have worked a map in there somewhere, my life would be complete. Well, maybe not ... but you know ... some things just make you happy, and even looking at these postcards all spread out on my worktable was deeply satisfying. Now ... off to make more art!

Caran d'Ache, Watercolours and Other Stuff ...

In my last post I mentioned that I'd discovered a new way to use Caran d'Ache water-soluble crayons as watercolours, so I thought while I'm at it, I might as well show you my *new* portable art kit that I've put together. As my friends have heard me say (perhaps a little too often?), if I'd known how much I was going to love these crayons I would've bought the big box. I bought a set of 30 while at Artfest a few years back, and even though they were on sale, and the store was giving Artfest attendees a further discount, I still hesitated. It's not that I didn't think they were worth it, but I already have way too many art supplies that "other people love" only to find that I can't make them do interesting things in my hands. My problem, not theirs. Anywho ...

For the first three years of their lives, my Caran d'Ache sat in a neatly spectrumized row in their original tin, and then one day I needed to do a background, and the most efficient way to do it was by breaking a crayon  (gasp!) and using it on its side. I paused, thought about it, and then, ceremoniously, broke my first crayon. And then I broke them all, one after one. And I lived. I know that might sound weird, but I'm funny about keeping things pristine in the package, just in case, oh I don't know, I get audited by the Art Police or something (I didn't say it was logical). Two things happened after that ... every trip to Port Townsend and Akamai Arts led me to buying more Caran d'Ache, and I moved my little half-crayons to a lovely thin little tin (less prone to coming open and spilling and all that sort of un-Virgo stuff). But (and you saw this coming, didn't you?) one day, even broken in half, I'd bought so many new colours that they could no longer fit in the lovely little tin. Uh oh. I graduated to a larger tin, and the new tin had room for Other Stuff. This is the story of the Other Stuff, and how, at our last retreat, I discovered I might actually *like* watercolour painting, something which has mystified (and possibly terrified) me for years. 

So ... left to right in the photo ... elastic hairband (more about that later), Mini Mister, scribbles of Caran d'Ache on label backing sheet, bit of old t-shirt (don't tell Mr. B.), dollar store paintbrush (cut to fit in tin), pop bottle cap, the Caran d'Ache I scribbled with, and the traveling tin. Oh, and the artwork? More on that later. It's taken about a year to perfect this little traveling kit. All packed up it measures 6.5" x 4.5" by 1", and is in fact, an old Maya Road tin I got years ago, its contents long gone. I've never been one of those people who likes BIG containers of water when I paint ~ too many opportunities for tragedy to my mind (hmmm ... must be the Virgo thing again). I prefer pouring a little water from the Mini Mister into a pop bottle cap, and cleaning my brush on the t-shirt scrap, or (truth be told) on the back of my hand (I know, I know, I'm a symphony of contradictions). But then I've never been the kind of person who slathers on acres of acrylic paint either, which would require the large pot of water and the Big Brushes.

Finding out that certain label backing sheets make excellent palettes was another bonus. Oh yes, I know, it *sounds* logical, but I discovered that not all label backing sheets are equal. Some are so slick that you can't scribble the crayons on them and that's no good either. Also (and quite coincidentally), a standard label backing sheet folded (or cut) in quarters, neatly fits in the Maya tin, too. Double bonus. The elastic headband holds the whole tin together because heaven knows it was *no good* at keeping my hair in place when I wore it. I think I must have a spherical head. But that's a discussion for another day.

Here's everything packed up to go ... the bit of damp T-shirt is rolled and tucked away so the wet is well away from the water-soluble crayons and the now dry bottle cap and the mini mister make sure it stays that way. The label backing sheet has been wiped clean of any residue and is folded in quarters ready to lay on top of the crayons and the little brushes, and the elastic headband waits to wrap it all up. The headband goes around the tin twice by the way, which is perfect when I want to elastic the tin to my journal for traveling.
Well, that's about it ... unless you were hanging around to see the artwork, in which case ...

These are my first attempts at illustrating somebody else's words ... in this case, the song "Parkette" by Bob Snider. I could rave on here about Bob Snider for awhile, and you'd probably understand him better by listening to him, but he's amazingly elusive online, which fits somehow with his persona. My first encounter with him was years ago when I was volunteering on the Admin Committee at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival. A couple of us spent some time trying to track him down for a scheduled performance only to discover later that he'd been busking in the downtown eastside. I'm no musical expert, but I don't think I would describe his playing as dazzling or virtuoso. In fact, his style of playing and his banter are so warm and casual and understated that it's only about halfway through the song you realize your heart has been sucker-punched (in the best way possible) by his lyrics. "Parkette" is one of my favourite little nuggets of his work, a brief 1 minute and 40 seconds. The pages are not in order in my painting, in case you're wondering why it doesn't make sense ~ and I'm only show you half, since the final project will be printed back-to-back. When I say "printed" I'm being optimistic. I thought when I got inspired to paint his lyrics that it'd be an easy thing to contact him and get permission to create and print my little book, but as I say, he's darned elusive online, and I've yet to get through to someone who can ask him if it's cool with him that I've created this. But when I do get through, and if he gives the okay, there may be a minizine in the making. But, in the meantime, I've definitely gotten over my irrational fear of watercolours.

Home from another wonderful retreat ...

Just back from another art retreat and thought I'd share a few photos ... clockwise, from top left: a freshly-minted muslin Gypsy King enjoys the "reading" table ... a fun little stamped banner was hung over a vintage photo by the front door... a *very* cool set of thin alphabet stamps ... an aerial view of my caran d'ache crayons and my washi tape collection ... the "paint table" was in full swing ... even the "freebie" table looks beautiful without trying ... and in the center, someone's well-loved and well-used palette.

At midnight the day before we left, I was literally sitting in my studio without a clue what I would take with me to work on. Having just finished two sketchbooks for the Sketchbook Project, and a few other big projects, my head was unusually empty of inspiration and ideas. I've learned in times like those to go lay down on the bed with a notebook nearby and breathe deep for a few minutes - imagining the future stretching out like a prairie road in front of me and see what looks like it might be coming over the horizon. A half hour later I had near-enough to a brainwave to start packing ... and things went much faster after that.

And (of course) what happens is that when I get there and start seeing what everyone else is up to, the creative gears start turning. I spent the first evening bringing the Gypsy King to life. I discovered him on the "freebie" table with just enough paint in just enough places that he wasn't a blank slate, so to speak. His hair was already half orange/half blue, his eyes were drawn on and he had a heart. Somehow the presence of these merest of markings were enough to set me going. Throw in my recent readings on the history of Gypsies and Travelers, and I soon enough found his character taking shape and colour. I wish I'd had the smarts to take a before picture, but you'll just have to take my word for it that he was nothing like he is now.

In lieu of paints, I used sharpies and caran d'ache crayons to add all the colour and pattern. That's the funny thing about *not* having a plan ... if you don't have a plan, you can't not be following it, if you catch my drift. But I quickly discovered that drawing on a soft muslin doll with hard crayons is not so easy, and this led me serendipitously to a new way to use caran d'ache crayons like watercolours by scribbling a "puddle" of colour on glossy card and using a wet paintbrush to soak up the pigment and paint the muslin. Not only did I get the full range of colours I already had, but by scribbling two colours together, I could really control the palette. I went on to use this technique to do some "real watercolours" later during the weekend (which I'll share in another post) and I have the unplanned Gypsy King to thank for it.

After having spent a few good hours bringing him to life, he looked a little bored when I perched him on the windowsill behind me ~ yes, I know, he's not real ~ but I still felt compelled to give him something to keep him occupied while I continued on with my creative weekend, so I tore out some pages from an old stamp catalog and made him a book filled with postage stamps of places he can dream of visiting. And once he had a book, the reading table was the logical place to be. Happily, he also joins a growing list of "interesting things I didn't know I was going to make when I got there". I love these retreats. I wish everyone in the world could go off and do what we go off and do ~ be creative, supportive and spontaneous. It's really amazing what comes out of it.

And here's a little more from the Science of Story ...

 Here are two more spreads from The Science of Story. As you can imagine, I had quite a bit of fun combining scientific charts, graphs and diagrams with text about writing. I've always been fascinated with "infographics". Not sure why that is, although I've heard that women are strong visual learners, and we very much like to see the relationships between things rather than just absorbing masses of information. I'm no expert, but I do know I often feel a bit at sea learning something new till I have a visual framework to hang all the info on, so it makes sense to me.

The Science of Story is part of the Sketchbook Project - Limited Edition, which means that at least one of my pages will be chosen for publication in a series of books the Brooklyn Art Library plans to publish. When I signed up I saw that the range of topics for the Limited Edition was quite a bit shorter than  previous projects they've launched. I'm hoping this means they'll be publishing a book for each topic and someday I can look forward to seeing an entire book on The Science of Story through many different artists' eyes. And wouldn't that be fun? Oh yes ...

The Story of Science of Story continues ...

Just popping in to post two more page spreads from my current project on deadline for Monday (eek!). Okay, not eek, because I'm *nearly* done ... just looking for an old photo of me in a lab coat for the About the Author page at the back. Did I mention I'm trying to make it look like an old textbook? Okay, not a *real* textbook, but you know, an artist's interpretation of a textbook on the science of stories as if stories were a science. Okay ... I'm gonna stop talking now ...

Working on a new set of twins ...

 I can't believe it's been almost a month since Artfest. I keep hoping I'll get time to post some Artfest stuff ... but time marches on, and art deadlines march right along with it.

Just at the moment I have two big projects in the works .. both with April 30th deadlines, which goes a long way to explaining my recent absence from blog-world.

Here are two little teasers on one of the projects: The Sketchbook Project (Limited Edition). The first thing I did when I got my blank sketchbook was take out *their* pages and replace them with some blueprints I've gathered from various sources. I knew from the beginning that I'd be working with my theme (The Science of Story,  cover as shown) by diagramming the writing process as it might be portrayed in a science textbook.

As usual I started with a massive amount of notes, ideas and scribblings that I hoped would turn into coherent pages when the time came. Well, the time has come and yep - all those notes are coming in *very* handy, and by the end of the week I should have all 16 (!) spreads finished. Here's one I finished this evening ... first I drew the circle's edge and lightly gessoed the circle. Then I divvied up the circle as a pie chart and wrote out some of the places where story ideas come from. By the way, I'm not claiming ANY scientific accuracy in any of the diagrams in the book ... I'm just having a little fun thinking about the Science of Story and what that textbook might look like.

As usual, I'm making two books at once so I'll have one to keep. I'll post more page spreads over the next little while ... and when the Science of Story is on it's way, maybe then I'll have time to show you what I did at Artfest ... till then, this'll have to do  ...

Oooooo .... pretty ...

Sorry ... couldn't resist showing you the rainbow of painted buttons I finished today to trade at Artfest. Is it just me or do they look like giant, shiny, tasty smarties? They look so pretty all spread out together, I've been running them through my fingers like a colour-demented Scrooge McDuck, enjoying how they feel and sound ... oh, and trying to figure out how to keep them all for myself. Mwah-hah-hah.

Whoosh! Say ... wasn't that a deadline?

This year's trades: Books, Mini-Zines, Buttons & Tags

Time tends to speed up as Artfest approaches, and this is especially true when it's time to make all those items to trade with other attending artists. I decided to make a variety of items since this'll be the last Artfest (insert moment of silence here).

The largest (and most collaborative!) trade item is the Book of Faces (top left). I posted an invite on the Artfest Yahoo group for people to send black and white line drawings of faces to add to my ongoing collection ~ an attempt to encourage myself to draw more faces. I'm pleased to say the finished book contains more than 150 drawings, as well as additional sections on tracing and clipart, as well as blank pages so people can continue to add their own faces.

Also included (by kind permission of Kathy Barbro) is a section I'm calling "Art Projects for (Big) Kids", which features some of the face-themed projects over on her Art Projects for Kids website. Her site  has *way* more than face-related art projects, and I highly encourage you to surf over and have a look, particularly if you have children or, what the heck, if you've ever been a child. The full-size version of my Book of Faces will be traded with people who submitted drawings, and I've made four mini-zine excerpts of the book (the blue covers along the right-hand side of the photo) to trade with other attendees. I'm so pleased with how they all turned out ~ and relieved to have them all done in time!

I'm also making some laminated luggage tags with some cool thread "dribbles" on the back. Mr B. wanted to know how exactly you "dribble" thread ...he insisted it's not really possible ... of course, when I showed him what I was doing, he agreed that dribbling was as good a word as any he could think of.

Artfest-wise, I'm also making some fun 1" buttons, as well as participating in the Artfest ATC book AND the 4x4 chunky book, but thank heavens all those bits and pieces were sent to their respective organizers long ago. I might even manage to get a few more ATCs made when all is said and done. Whoosh, indeed!

For any of you who've been to Artfest, I don't need to tell you how wonderful and rare an experience it is. So, here's a shout out to Lelainia for taking me to my first Artfest years ago, and bunches and bunches of appreciation for all the fabulous teachers and like-minded friends who've grown out of my Artfest connection. I know this last Artfest will be amazing and bittersweet and I plan to soak up every little bit of it ~ hence the overkill in my participation this year. I wish Teesha and Tracy and their whole gang all the best as they set their sails for other projects and artistic horizons.

Map of Heaven ...

Over on Jill Berry's Personal Geographies blog, she's talking journal maps and such, and I thought I'd share an early map I made ... it was one of those odd collaboratives I often get invited to.

The instructions from the organizer went something like this:  Make a map of Heaven / Nirvana / the Great Beyond. Make it literal, figurative, spiritual, scientific, historic, tragic, comic or from a great height, but take it and run with it. Make a huge map that can't be refolded, make a laminated pocket map for heavenly tourists. Make an X marks the spot map for pirates. Make a bus map for the Always-Standing-in-Line thinking: "Where in Hell is my bus?". Make a map of the stars in another Universe. Make a map of the Galactic Railway. Make a "How Things Work" map with woolly mammoths. Make a map of Atheist's Heaven. The possibilities are endless. After your map is made, make it interesting to handle ... hexagonal, circular, dodecahedronal, make Buckminster Fuller proud! Just think, if only Lucifer had a map, maybe that whole Heaven/Hell divide never would have happened. Send me enough copies of your map to give everybody one. Deadline: All Saints Day (Ahem!).

Wish I could remember who organized this one ... it was years ago through Nervousness.org (which, to this DAY, I still miss, although swapbot is a pretty good replacement).

My "plan" was an aerial view of Heaven as a labyrinth in greenery ... and the basic layout was slightly eccentric concentric ovals with breaks between the hedges ... so it would be fingerprintish in nature. The idea being that Heaven is as individual as You Are (as noted in the lower right corner). I had a lot of fun filling in what you would find as you got closer and closer to the center of the maze.

Meanwhile, over on Jill's blog, she's asking people to post maps on our blogs and link over to hers for a giveaway, and while you're there, be sure to listen to her being interviewed by Rice in the Voodoo Lounge. I love all the questions about research ... I do a WHACK of research for all my art projects as well, even if only 10% of what I discover makes it into my final creation, so I could certainly identify with Jill's process. I finally got a copy of Jill's Personal Geographies book as well ... so I am definitely *steeped* in maps at the moment.

Time Traveling Twins ...

As quoted from Wikipedia: "In physics, the twin paradox is a thought experiment in special relativity, in which a twin makes a journey into space in a high-speed rocket and returns home to find he has aged less than his identical twin who stayed on Earth."

You Are Here ...

In my case, these twins are books I created for the Sketchbook Project. And before you ask, Yes, it was twice as much work to make two, but given my personal rule ("Always Make Two") when it comes to artwork, I couldn't *not* make two.

Since the Sketchbook Project people encourage participants to be creative, to think outside the book if you will, the first thing I did was disassemble the book as supplied and create my own internal pages, as well as creating my own blank book to keep. The books are divided in three sections: (predictably) The Past, the Present and The Future. The Present is a single page, while the Past accordions out to the left, and The Future accordions out to the right, each filled with stuff I've thought about, written about and imagined about time travel, the passage of time and the effects of time on the human experience.

The Past  ... how far back do you want to go?

I've been reading Science Fiction since I was a kid, which wasn't really typical of girls where I grew up. I'd like to point out that I was reading Science Fiction, not Fantasy. As soon as a story introduced a Wizard, a Dwarf or Magic I was OUT OF THERE. I attribute this to reading Dune before Lord of the Rings .. in fact, I never got even made it through LotR, or any of its many brothers.

The Future ... how do you prepare for the unknown?

Anywho ... when I saw Time Travel as an option for a theme on the Sketchbook Project, I knew it was for me. I spent a few months re-reading my favourite SF books on the theme, and making notes and diagrams. I think I probably have enough material in my notes to *actually* time travel when the technology finally gets invented. I even attended a lecture on "The Art and Science of Time Travel" at the British Library while on vacation in London last summer. I was in heaven ... 5 fabulous panelists (including Audrey Niffennegger!), a packed audience (250+) and 2 hours of all the Time Travel you can handle ... one of the best nights of my life. I obviously need to get out more ...

PS ~ I've only shown you a bit of the final books here ... but the twin that's part of the Sketchbook Project's touring exhibit will also be digitized in their online library ... not sure how they're going to deal with the whole accordioning thing ... but, hey, they said be creative ... I assume they'll let me know when the images are online and I'll post the link here on my blog. Now ... off you go, into *your* futures ... :)

My Steampunk Tarot Cards are ready to go ...

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 ...

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 ...

& 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)

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 ...

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)

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 ...

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 ...

"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 ...

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.