Just You and Me and These Four Walls

Quarantine has spawned -- for the luckiest of us -- aggravation, restlessness, a circumstantial slow-down; a paring down of life, new appreciation for: birds, or breadmaking, and the technological wonders of video connections, even as we tire of Zoom . And health, most definitely, health. And all of us are creative, whether we grant ourselves this characterization. Artists, of course, when they are not shutting down, are creating, reacting to the new realities. In this very moment, my almost 6 year old daughter is upstairs, singing about the meanness of her mother*, and using a little egg shaker to fancy it up. Rick seems to be on a looping conference call in the study (the closed door of which is no match for the strength of his voice). As of last night, my creativity has extended to baking a batch of olive oil brownies with sea salt (I love you, New York Times cooking newsletter). Last week, we were all in Pennsylvania, with my family, visiting my mother in the hospital. My heart is still there. In January, though, I had a brief burst of creativity, relating to a few couple selfies Rick took of us, when our quarantine hair was particularly dramatic. We are in the bathroom, natch, and not yet having given oureslves desparation haircuts, we look almost mythic (Rick), and unhinged/birdlike (myself). While I was able to draw something vaguely reminisicent of his visage (realism is not my forte**), each attempt at my likeness seemed worse than the last. I eventually started erasing a hole in the paper, before I optimistically taped another blank on top, with the not-me looming over his shoulder. No dice. Increasingly addled. In a fit of pique I decided that if it was going to work out that poorly, I should just opt for an animal instead. If you've seen me recently, you're like,"Oh right, BIRD," but that was short lived, because I wanted something with a cuddly aspect.

Top choice: slow loris. That sent me down a rabbit hole, because I hadn't even realized they're the ONLY VENOMOUS MAMMALS on earth, their venom is FLESH-ROTTING and dispensed from glands at their elbows; to tickle them is torture; and venal criminals have been smuggled internationally in their underwear*** But these fun tidbits didn't really add depth or accuracy to my would-be couple portrait. Plus, with their saucer-eyes,they do look a little more batsh*t, than I'm comfortabke assigning to myself, so. Next up: lemurs. I've always been fond of lemurs. Native to Madagascar! Somewhat crazy-looking, but they have those wonderful flouffy tails to counterbalance their weight when they spring off on various aboreal journeys. Also, since this print emotionally documents my time in quarantine, I feel like it nicely captures an air of stir-crazyness (see also lemurs attack BBC reporter), among other things. So there you have it, back story to a cell phone selfie, transformed into a multi-block linocut.

These are available for sale on my etsy shop, like so. I'll be adding more color variations soon. As always, if you don't see something you want, just ask. Stay safe and sane, out there, Dear Readers! *Who ended a self-markering episode, and confiscated her school ipad, when the young-in threatened to throw it. ** Hahaha, shut it. *** No, obviously the criminals'. Loris don't wear no underwear.

Life's a Carnival...Newest Print + Upcoming Shows Schedule

Hot off the presses...

Step right up, Step right up! All it takes is one fine spin and the life of your dreams is there for the taking!...Or the life of some one's dreams. Or some good dreams and some not-so-good dreams. What's definitely true is that our experiences are rich, multilayered, and only rarely consist of one flavor (i.e. joy or sadness). And we build our lives with these experiences, through willpower, skill, and the vagaries of existence...
This original carnivalesque design is a multiple linoleum block print, printed on toothsome Rives BFK paper, using rich, archival water soluble ink. Measures 12 x 12 inches, standard frame size. Open edition.

Yours for a modest price, in my Etsy shop... ORRRRRR come visit me this Saturday, at the down town Ann Arbor library! ALL PRINTS ALL THE TIME! It's their first fair solely devoted to printmaking -- with lectures and demos and all kinds of excitement. Event details here.




I am also looking forward to sell at two additional Michigan events this Fall:

BookFest, on September 19th

DIYSF -- Ferndale's 3 day street fair September 21-23rd.

Set your focus, spin the wheel, best wishes for a good Summer's end & Fall...

Roasting Brussel Sprouts, Eating Spoonfuls of Cookie Dough

...Increasing attention from little one will, in theory, force me to reform my sporadically ridiculous eating habits. In the meantime, it is 4:12 on Monday, October 26th: high time for a picture book progress post! Quickly, quickly, as la Bebe will be transferred back to my care shortly. She looks like a wee gymnast in her floral navy onesie and she is covering impressive floorspace with an aggressive commando crawl. She would happily pound this keyboard and lick my monitor, but will also initiate the grand back arch of protest if kept on one's lap for too long. So, here we go -- just listed on Etsy:

Page 28:

After the shouting, before the cake eating...Here we witness our precocious hero explaining to Cakeasaurus just how cakes come to be. If you were (/are) obsessed with getting your daily cake by nefarious ends, and you were (/are?) a sneaky monster, you may not be well versed in baking basics. Quimby tries to break it down...

Woodblock print, edition: 15, available here. 

Page 29: 

"All Good Cakes Are Born from Books": a fine statement, and most would agree, aside from rare bakers like my maternal grandmother, who could whip up an angel food cake ("light as air!"), bookless, with nary a measuring cup or spoon...The rest of us, though, must use recipes as road maps, to take us where we want to go. Cakeasaurus, being a dessert thief NOT a dessert creator, finds the concept a bit suspect. 

Edition size: 50. Available for sale here. 

All stages

 

Pages 18-19: You saw this being carved (plus maybe a test print?), but here's the final version of "Quimby Lay Awake..." This is an eensy tiny edition, but I must confess I'm rather of fond of this one.

I wanted it to capture some of the magical surreal quality of nighttime wakefulness as a child. I always get a kick out of playing around with the lettering and I think the words troop across the page pretty well. 

"This print marks a pivotal scene in my Cakeasaurus picture book: the fateful night where monster-in-search-of-cake meets five-year-old to be. Cakes have been disappearing for months now! Despite all precautions, the townspeople experience ongoing cake deprivation. The situation is untenable. And here we are: Cakeasaurus outside, Quimby within."

Available here.