little black journal

Yes, it’s been awhile since I’ve posted about a book.  Fact is, I took a bit of a ‘literary detour’ and spent the first part of this summer wrapped up in the Twilight series.  And I won’t apologize for it – I was in the mood for something quick, easy, and just a little bit trashy, and that vampire saga fit the bill perfectly.  But once I got my fill of teenage romance, I was ready to flex my reading muscles and so picked up Till We Have Faces, my book club’s August pick.  This is C.S. Lewis’ interpretation of the classical myth of Cupid and Psyche, set in the far-off pagan land of Glome.  I’m not going to lie – this wasn’t a ‘fun’ read, but it stretched me, and encouraged me further explore deeper themes of selfish love, self-awareness, and frustration over a seemingly distant God.  And I like when a book stumps me, keeps the wheels in my head turning after I’ve put it down, forces me flip back through it in hopes of catching something new.  After doing some Googling and reading a couple of book reviews sent to me by my fellow stumped book-clubbies, I’m just scratching the surface of what Lewis may (or may not) have been getting at.  I’ll leave you with this passage, that seems to grow more powerful each time I reread it:

” ‘Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that’s the whole art and joy of words.’  A glib saying.  When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you’ll not talk about joy of words.  I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer.  Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean?  How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?”

Since the opening of my art show last month, I’ve done almost no art-making.  And I suppose that’s ok – I’ve come to accept that sometimes my creative endeavors will take a backseat to things like work or home projects or time with friends, but still, I’ve missed the feeling of a paintbrush or a pen in my hands. So when a friend asked me if I wanted to join her for a 3-hour figure drawing session at a gallery in Pioneer Square, I cleared my schedule, grabbed my sketchpad, and settled in for an evening of art-ing.  This was my first-ever figure drawing session, and I will admit, I went into it with a little concern over the awkwardness that may come from drawing a nude model, but once that big, lovely woman dropped her robe and we all started sketching, any reservations were put to rest.  I immediately became absorbed in my drawing, studying the model the same way you would study a landscape or a bowl of fruit or any other artistic subject.  The structure of the session was really good for me, as the bulk of the poses were only two to five minutes, so I didn’t have time to get stuck in the details or try to make anything perfect.  The length of time that the model stayed in any one pose gradually increased, and we wrapped up the night with a couple of 15-minute poses.  I walked out of there with a fat stack of sketches and a smile on my face – a totally fabulous evening.

FYI, these sessions occur on the third Tuesday of every month at La Familia gallery in Pioneer Square.  Entry is only 10 bucks (and well worth it!).

Our p-patch plot, planted 10 weeks ago with tiny little plants in neat little rows, has recently turned into something of a jungle.  We’ve had boatloads of lettuce, summer squash that seems to double in size overnight, and crisp, sweet snap peas that are usually munched on as we make the walk from the garden back to our house.  Just call me Farmer Kelly…

The tomatoes and strawberries aren’t yet ripe for the pickin’, but they show definite promise.

All in all, we feel like we’ve done pretty well in our rookie year of veggie-gardening.  But there are definitely things we’ll do differently next year – a couple of words to the wise:

– Don’t assume that one of those dinky little 2-foot stakes is all you need for your peas – our vines outgrew those things in a matter of minutes, and everything would have been much simpler if we’d built a trellis from the get-go.

– 12 lettuce plants is far too many for a two-person household.  I’m sick of salad.  I was actually relieved when some of our plants started to bolt and needed to be removed.

– Squash and zucchini plants grow freakishly fast and get freakishly big.  Just sayin’.

– Gardening is rewarding and fun, but watch out – it can cause marital tensions; I got very defensive last week when Shane accused my squash plant of crowding his strawberries.  How dare he.

Keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll be seeing more signs of red next time we go out there!  I’m ready for a good, juicy tomato.

Wowsers, what a week.  Some good (got back into my exercise groove with back-to-back evening runs with Shane), some bad (rough day at the office and I think I officially became ‘the girl that cries at work’ this afternoon…), and all of it very, very tiring.  T.G.I.F…  I need a recharge.  Looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow, maybe going for a morning jog down by the lake, taking in a movie with Shane, pulling my sketchbook out after a month-long art-making hiatus, hangin’ with some girlfriends tomorrow night – Saturdays are bliss.

You know what else is bliss?  The beets coming from our garden (how’s that for a segue?!).  They are finally ripe for the pickin’ and I am in root vegetable heaven.  Tonight I sliced a couple up, sauteed them in a little olive oil, then topped them with goat cheese crumbles and toasted walnuts.  Yep, it was every bit as delicious as it sounds.  Paired with a glass of Riesling and the Giants vs. Dodgers game on TV, and I was ready to leave this week behind me and embrace the chance to take a breather and relax.  T.G.I.F. (did I already say that?).

These are a few of my newer favorites, hung as part of the show.  The general theme was ‘mixing media’, as I have completely fallen in love the way that encaustics allow me to use everything from my photographs to bits of fabric to old maps from the glove compartment in new and interesting ways.

Note that my next exercise will be in learning how to properly photograph art, but these should give you the jest of things…

pdx, 24″x36″, mixed media encaustic (map on tissue paper, painted nylon netting, photo transfer of trees):

mountain creek, 16″x16″, mixed media encaustic (nylon netting, photo transfer of trees):

rue st martin, 12″x16″, mixed media encaustic (nylon netting, photo transfer of parisian rooftops):

porto, 36″x24″, mixed media encaustic (painted nylon netting, photo transfer of bridge and screen wall):

Eeek – it’s been awhile!  Life has been a whirlwind the last 10 days, with a faux wedding to throw (more on that later), lots of goings-on with friends and neighbors, and, finally, the opening of my art show on July 1st.  My weeks of planning and working and art-ing all came to fruition on Thursday night, as I gathered with some of our closest friends to share the collection I’d put so much of my time and heart into. And it was perfect.  I’d held back on making a big deal out of the event, based on my own fears and insecurities, but when Shane and I arrived at the cafe on Wednesday evening to hang my work, and the barista asked, “Oh, are you the artist?”, I actually got to respond with an emphatic, “Yes!”, and was suddenly eager to share my work with anyone willing to take a look.  I’m embracing and living up to the title of ‘Artist’, no longer calling myself a wanna-be, or a poser, or just ‘pretending’ like the work I do qualifies as art.  This has become a part of who I am, what I do, and how I relate to people.  Being in a room surrounded by 15 pieces of my art was an amazing feeling.  But what made the night infinitely more special was being able to share it all with our Seattle community – the cafe was filled with people that have encouraged me, cheered me on, and reminded me that creativity is most beautiful when it is freely shared.

Huuuuuuge thanks to everyone who came out – it was an evening I will never ever forget…

Well, folks, the countdown has begun – in just 7 short days, my artwork will be hung for my first-ever art show.  Through some very fortunate connections, I have been asked to put up my work in Seattle’s Q Café as their July artist.  Exciting?  No doubt.  Motivating? Definitely. Intimidating?  Yep, that too.  Throwing some pictures of my art up on my blog is easy, because I don’t have to physically watch anyone react to them – I can’t get my feelings hurt by uninterested glances, upturned noses, or (God forbid!) the occasional eye-roll.   And this is one of the first times that I will attach a price tag to my work; asking people to pay money for something I hold so dear opens up entirely new avenues for rejection.  But the fact is, I’ve put a lot of time, thought, and effort into the pieces that will hang on the wall next Thursday, so I’m going to go out on a limb and indulge in a little self-promotion:  If you live in the Seattle area, check it out – the show opens on July 1st and will run through the month.  The bulk of the work will be mixed-media encaustics, with a small sampling of my print-making work as well.  And if you don’t live in the Seattle area, some of my work will soon be available for purchase online, so stay tuned for that.  Now, back to work – I’ve still got art to make.  Zoiks!

Ummm…Hi, June! Where did you come from, and why are you passing me by so very quickly? Wowsers, life has been busy lately, and I feel like I am running at breakneck speed just to keep up. It’s good, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to turn down any of the things that have kept me on my toes. For example:

Shane and I were invited by a friend I work with to check out the Sounders game on Saturday night. Soccer is quickly becoming my new favorite sport, as I’ve had the chance to attend a few games over the past year and have developed a mild case of Sounder Fever. Yes, there is a bit of monotony in watching the guys run up and down and up and down the field, but the surge of energy that flows through the stadium whenever they score a goal makes all that waiting well worth it. Lucky for us, the Sounders were in fine form on Saturday and scored four goals, which meant lots of jumping out of our seats, clapping our hands, cheering loudly, and catching the glittery confetti that rained from the sky. Good stuff.

Sunday was my first day back in the print studio since my class ended last fall. I had almost the entire day to myself in there and was in art-making heaven, with Bon Iver piping through my headphones, a table full of brightly colored paint to mix and smear and roll, and a printing press just begging to be put to use. I got a lot of stuff of done, much of which I left in the studio to dry on the racks, but here’s a little peek at some not-quite-finished pieces. I am in love with this process, and am trying to figure out what our dining room would look like if we swapped out our table for a printing press. I’m kidding. Kind of.

And now, I am beat. As in, ready for the weekend!

As is usually the case with any long weekend, I am sitting here with the knowledge that I have to return to work tomorrow and wondering, ‘Where did the past three days go?!’. Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess…

I was up and at ’em first thing on Saturday morning to head over to West Seattle for my work day at the encaustic studio. The instructors of the workshop I took in March have a great space set up over there for renters, where I had everything I needed right at my fingertips in order to make a lovely little mess. It was a productive day for me, as I finished a couple of pieces and got started on a couple of others, but still, even after nine hours in the studio, I wanted more. These sorts of intense art sessions are exhausting, but completely energizing at the same time. Can’t wait to get back in there. Here’s a sneak peek – more photos to come when I have the whole ‘collection’ done.

Yesterday we zipped down to Portland for a long-overdue visit with my brother and his family. As I’ve said after every trip down there over the past two years, I can’t believe how Elise has changed since I saw her last. She is taller, faster, chattier, and showing major signs of favoritism toward her Uncle Shane (I won’t hold this against her).  One of her favorite toys these days is the Magna-Doodle that Shane and I bought her for Christmas, and she spent quite a bit of time on my lap this weekend, drawing to her heart’s content.  Whatever I asked her to draw, whether it was an elephant, a penguin, or a picture of her Grandpa, she responded enthusiastically with, “OK, sure!” (her latest catch phrase), and proceeded to give it her best shot.  Granted, all of her doodles bear a striking a resemblance to one another, and I’m not sure I could differentiate her giraffe from her representation of Uncle Shane, but she gets an A+ for effort.  She also loves to read, and had a lot of fun pulling books off the shelves left and right during our visit to Powell’s this weekend.  I like to think of her as a future book club member-in-training.  Goodness, I love this little girl!

And so, another weekend come and gone (sigh).  But it was so, so good while it lasted!

I haven’t been posting about all of my reading endeavors lately, because I felt like I ran out of ways to say, “I liked it”, or “It was too long”, but Jane Eyre consumed enough hours of my life to warrant a blog post.  I started this book two months ago, put it down for a week for a quick fling with David Sedaris, then (grudgingly) picked it back up again, determined to finish what I started.  Man, I wanted to love a classic like this, but this book really felt like a struggle.  The lengthy descriptions of the English landscape were too wordy, and the conversation felt incredibly stiff and overly formal.  I was frustrated by the fact that I had a such hard time placing myself in the middle of the story.  Then I realized that this book was published 163 years ago, and I was suddenly amazed at how much the English language has remained relatively unchanged over the past century-and-a-half.  Granted, Jane never used the word ‘dude’ or referred to Mr. Rochester as ‘smokin’ hot’, but the fact that I was able to understand 99.9% of this book’s contents seems surprising.  And I will admit, the last quarter of the book did really capture my attention, as I read on to see which fate Jane would choose.  So I’m glad I finished it; I’m glad my ‘literary horizons’ have been broadened.  Plus, it looks darn pretty sitting on my bookshelf…