A Brief Respite from 2020// See Also: the Most Important Day of the Year

Dear Stephen,

I just wandered into a new gallery downtown, and thought of you. A couple hours ago, Pennsylvania was called for Biden and he was declared President-Elect. I'm probably the 20th person to pass the news on to you, we know you'd share the joy and relief. It's sunny and in the 70's, this November day; and almost impossible to stay home. Cars roll past with people honking horns, hollering, banging pots, one blaring an older "F*ck Trump" rap, which draws a laugh from inside the otherwise quiet gallery space. 

Not everyone looks happy, though it's harder to tell with masks. People are exhausted; but today, also elated, after days (/months) of dread. It's the first time it feels right to niff around, looking at pretty things. Gutman Gallery opened in February, closed during Shelter-in-Place; and has recently re-opened.

It feels good to be back in the old high-ceilinged  Gallery Project space. I remember sound installations in the basement and in the darkened backroom, years ago, back before motherhood, when I had ridiculous (read: underappreciated) amounts of free time.

Now we are greeted with paintings on raw edged wooden slabs,  jewelry hanging against rough wood; spare, high tables with ornate, mechanical looking legs that hint at robotic functions. Colorful pottery and sharp bags pairing retro-perky 50s male and female characters with splashes of vintage fabrics. 

Their holiday market, featuring 50+ artists, starts today; Friday nights will feature artists demos and private shopping may be scheduled for small and cautious friend pods. It feels simultaneously normal and audacious to be in such a place.

 

Urthy Fiber Arts by Scotty Jones

Kris Cravens Pottery

detailed chameleon, unironically in black & white

With 68 million+ citizens voting for Trump after four years of his moral bankruptcy, I know we have so much to do in this country; but today, let's settle for happiness, for lightness of heart. Stephen, I feel how I expect Maira Kalman feels during her New York City walks, teasing out the day's surprises, whether they be discarded chairs, or acceptable cafeteria pies. I think of paintings from her beautiful book paying tribute to Obama's inauguration and democracy's promise. I feel it now, the renewed hope, which I haven't felt in so long. And with it, ephemeral delight bursts to the surface, much hardier -- and more crucial -- than we usually give it credit for being.

 

 

From And the Pursuit of Happiness

 

 

Scooters: the Newest in Animal Transport, Plus BookEndless Kitchens

I did a thing. I did a new thing! Well, not BRAND brand new, it's a two color linocut. But for my first time in all these years using some nice sharp Pfeil gouges instead of my usual throw-away student things. After ALL THESE YEARS, you ask yourself, If I was going to continue with this endeavor, WHY would I deem proper tools an extravagance?

As well, last week marked the first week of using my mini hairdryer to soften up the linoleum blocks, even though this wee hairdryer has been stored in my work space, for just such a purpose, because god knows I don't use it on my head. Why does it take so much time to shift from the idly contemplative, "Mmm, yeah, that seems like a good idea"/ "Hmm, that beats what *I'm* doing~~" to a positive follow-through? I must first overcome my own crotchetyness before paring away the crotchety aspects of my process or surroundings. So: Bahhh! And wheeee! The lino -- supple;  the tools -- sleekly sharp. I had hesitated over the return, after decades, to palm-held tools, but once I picked them up, they felt natural. A calming, more controlled experience. Hopefully they will show through in my work -- but the process alone is an improvement! Nice to hole up in a warm corner of my basement while Winter rages on up above. I also spent some time since January going through the basement and my work area, getting rid of and finding places for the various just-in-case possessions. My work area feels more ready to work these days.

 

So, here we have the latest, on mulberry paper:

Visit Etsy listing here and check out my Instagram here for the second variation (bright pink, currently drying in the basement).

On the homefront, we have emerged from high fevered nastiness for the little one, capped off at the end with a plummeting geode bookend that landed on our daughter's big left toe. Justified wailing + pool of blood = hours in Urgent Care Random. We eventually had very good care*, and, but for some pitiful hobbling, she soldiered through. 

Per usual,  interactions with the resident preschooler range from the ghastly to perplexing, to goofy-cute. From this morning:

Me, startled by a suspicious pool: Why is the floor by your bed all wet?
PS, matter of factly: Oh, I was spitting there.

Me, failing to run my fingers through her hair: Why is your hair all crunchy?
PS: Oh I had a lollipop in the car last night
Me: Oh, you *know* you're not supposed to touch your hair with lollipop hands!
PS, indignant: I *DIDN'T*! ... (more as an aside) But then I forgot and I touched the lollipop to my hair.

Breakfast Humor
Q: Why did the pantry cross the road?
A: Because it has a handle!

Eating her avocado toast

Q: Why did the piece of avocado cross the road?
A: Because it was green!

From a couple days ago. She is at a work table in the basement, seriously inking a couple small lino blocks. I am reorganizing the space. I turn up the radio, sing along. She gazes up at me for a moment.

PS: NO dancing. [I shimmy and purse my lips at her]. NO DANCING. [she pauses, and mutters to her paper] ...This is not a wedding, NO ONE is getting married. 


*barring the ONLY nurse I have ever actively disliked. She batted an impressive pair of fake eyelashes at my slumped daughter and proceeded to coo over her, repeatedly likening her to a a little baby doll in a toy box, she was THAT PRECIOUS, NO SERIOUSLY, THAT PRECIOUS, and finally addressing the patient directly:"So, darling, who are your THREE FAVORITE PRINCESSES???" Celie kind of stared at her. She has discovered Frozen, and is as smitten as most -- Rick and I are inevitably on call as Elsa- or Ana- stand-ins -- but this question caught her up short. She seemed confused an adult would be posing it to her. The nurse pushed on to some other rote obnoxiousness, without ever addressing her about the reason for the visit, etc. She took the blood pressure gadget from the wall and I noted she could actually talk to my daughter about that. She asked sweetly whether Celie wanted to be a doctor and she exclaimed yes! Without missing a beat, Gender Stereotype upped her Weirdo game:"Oh GOOOOD, you'll make LOTS OF MONEY! You could buy your Mommy a NEW CAR, VROOOM VROOOM, YEAH wouldn't THAT be FUN and your MOMMY would LOVE THAT!" Celie remained uncharacteristically silent. She could tell something was different here, but didn't know what to do with it; I was just waiting for her to leave. Which she did, thankfully, soon after that. WTF.

A Happy Print for Happy Times, A Nudge for the Sluggish Times

Wooooooosh, there goes Summer. Well, not quite. Often when I have neglected the blog, it corresponds with a similar lack in other creative spheres. Happily that's not the case this time - several new card designs, plus a couple larger lino prints. It's contemplative time that's at a shortage, I think. And/or peace of mind. Peaceful or not, I vowed to sell at more shows this year than last. Not a high bar, as 2017 saw merely a handful -- but still, points for shaking things up a little. I applied to more -- got into more -- and then thought, well this is no good unless you have more new things to share...

Here's the latest, hot off the press:

the later yellow copies are more lemony than mustardy

I really had fun playing around with strong colors on this design. Thirsty for color, without knowing it! I enjoyed both the colors and the varying degree of inkiness. Sometimes the background is practically sodden; elsewhere, it seems the brayer has just glanced across its surface. These are not proper, spic-and-span pristinely-editioned prints.

 

 

cherry red, bouncing with energy

Milky blue vs. darker blue

Initially dismayed to misregister a few copies, I found myself returning to them. There's a certain electricity created by the misstep in printed colors. Jarring, but weirdly satisfying. Possibly moreso, due to the subject matter. The joy of tools is in their potential, to help us as makers create our world around us. The things we make are sometimes messy. Partially instructed, part improvised. Often the final forms vary greatly from our original concepts.

Likewise, these prints are as much about the process of making as they are reflections of the final design.  I look at these and think of my friend's studio -- the reward of inking linoleum blocks, laying down paper, rolling the blocks through her press; the relief of repeat and repeat and repeat; the satisfaction of doing something physical and concrete, especially during heartbreaking times, with a loved one in the hospital.

Before the carving, and the printing, the composition invited lots of juggling. Too many loved tools for them all to be included! I knew I wanted an apron, and scissors, whisk, and hammer; the spade won space through its simplicity and my fondness for gardens past. Other tools jockeyed for space. I photographed sketches and moved them around in Photoshop, returned to the drawing board.

The original word placement (now in "badge") also explains my pencil placement...

To carve or sign? Decided to carve my name for two newest prints, hmmm

Detail of the inked black block

The color block, after many shades have been tried


Detail of a sunny green, with inking plate in background

prints +child. "why are you standing up so high? I will get on the chair, too"

"Your Tools Await" is now up in my etsy shop, in milky blue & cherry red --more colors coming.  All hand printed on toothsome Rives BFK paper, measuring 12" x 18" (standard framing size).

Focus Not Upon the Spider

Blah, blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. Let blah equal self-recrimination and despair over infrequent posting and yadda equal defensive justification via anecdotes of normal levels of chaos. That was easier than I thought!

Breathe in, breathe out. During a punishing* Vinyasa class this morning, I perspired, fumbled a bit, and recovered. A tiny spider picked its way across the wooden, sunlit floor between yoga mats. I forgot it almost instantly, but moments later a nearby woman shrieked and collapsed mid-contortion. Hopefully she didn't pull anything, because collapsing at those moments is especially dicey. Which would be why I have only tried home yoga twice in the presence of toddler daughter, who felt compelled to climb me during downward dog; launch herself onto my back any time I looked somewhat table like; and slither herself beneath me moments before I had planned to lower myself to the mat. Back at class, the shriek brought matters to a halt. I was happy for the disruption, as our fabulous and challenging teacher had just proposed something which made me guffaw. In case you're a super yogi, I laugh at yoga when the thing proposed is barely comprehensible, much less attemptable**, by myself anyway. The proposal involved fire breathing while doing a plank, but also hopping straight up from one's hands and feet, in the plank stance, SPROING! Huff-huff-huff-huff! SPROING! I huffed, but failed to sproing; and quickly collapsed. A whimper/whine came from the front right corner of the class, over the idea that maybe the teacher had offed an insect.

"Relaxxxxx," soothed the teacher, exiting the room, with her hands cupped together. She returned: "Now it's survival of the fittest. Though the spider will probably die from the cold." Why did that cause me to laugh? I guess I'm working on compassion, wish to be more openhearted; but there's still a part of me which derides what I perceive to be "soft-hearted." Is this derision/dismissal an indication of how far I have to go? Or is it just an acknowledgement that there will always be boundaries between what one finds acceptable and not ? Look out! This is what happens, when I have a few hours away from my child, and I can swim about my head.***

Rick and girlchild are home now -- little feet thud above me. Short-lived protest crying sinks through the floorboards. I'm hiding in the basement, which I hope to do more frequently, as it gets colder. It only seems appropriate. I'm sitting at the tool bench, next to the furnace, with printmaking cards in various stages, all about me. My back is kinked up in weird ways; I slouch and straighten like a loopy cartoon character at odds with his barstool. The muscle twitches are due to a.) hanging the picture book exhibit at the library yesterday, b.) raking, mostly for toddler amusement and c.) aforementioned yoga class. 

from @aadlgram

But back to A! All 46 pieces in "No Cake is Safe" are now on display in the multipurpose room of the Ann Arbor downtown library. Woohoo! It was my first time hanging any show and boy-howdy was I grateful for the experienced help from Val Mann****. It has been interesting to see how the exhibit feels in its different venues. At the University of Michigan hospital, it felt expansive, in its open atrium, glass ceilinged space. At the Dexter Library it meandered along halls. Here, it's almost cozy. Self-contained. It feels quite nice to be in the space. I look forward to returning there for some quiet time. So far, manuscript submission and agent searching for picture book publication has been full of waiting and uncertainty. But here is this thing I have made, and I can sit and be with it. Lovely! And, as always, it's great to be part of a larger exhibiting program -- to have the privilege of seeing what other artists are exploring. So many things to be happy about.

ALSO at the downtown library, I'm super excited to be selling prints and cards at next Saturday's Tiny Expo. SO, come visit me, if you like what you see, go one floor down and swing by the Cakeasaurus exhibit. Two birds, one stone. Ayyyand see all of the other great vendors and make something cool in the Secret Lab, whaaaat. So really, three birds. 

BUT no... it winds up being FOUR birds, one stone. As Tiny Expo is part of the fabulous Winter Art Tour. So, get or print your passport, get it stamped at 4 venues Dec. 8-10 and maybe win something fabulous! Shop local, support creativity, have fun.

Hope to see you next Saturday! Here's a smattering of what will be at my table:

Happy December, All.

* nay, cleansing and fulfilling.
**what is impossible today may be fully realizable tomorrow! 
***I'm not a very good swimmer. But I love being in the water. 
****who probably could have hung it all, blindfolded, with one hand tied behind her back.

A Trio of Makers (Ann Arbor Art Fair)

In years past I was all about the Ann Arbor Art Fair, started thinking about it the month prior, researched some of the upcoming artists, planned out routes to maximize work lunch hours and exhausted evening hours; took pics, googled and wrote and felt compelled to publish a post for whosoever may care to read. Then it shifted to childcare hours and who and when and not really time to process later, but at least not sandwiching the sun-hammered art walks between office hours. This time, a few days ago, I glanced online before giving up -- other more pressing research items weighed in -- new car, travel, toddler tendencies and how to handle. This time around: I'll find what I can find.

It was only as I marched on Liberty, having drained my pricey Avalon latte, striding between Holy Mary, Mother of God and the Mars Society booths in nonprofit row, that I realized how happy I was. Excited, joyful, freed up! No matter how jaded I become, no matter the various life pressures, this kind of thing always feels like a reward, an unwieldy present to be opened. There's always treasure, hiding below the layers of wine slushies, lawn ornaments and neon-colored Warholalikes. You may maintain your ideas of where the best art is and dismiss all other regions (the fair is actually four fairs glommed together), but for treasure hunting, one must be open and far-reaching. Far-walking.

And here I was, walking along to meet Compatriot (who I haven't mentioned in forever, but who is the perfect Art Fair fellow attendee -- we travel well, we overhear well, we investigate and muse). And here, suddenly, was an old friend from a former life, exclaiming in my path! She can't understand people who hate this*, she arrived at 7 AM**, parked just like that, dwelled over an hour long breakfast at Afternoon Delight and now at 11, she felt done for the day. We were pleased with ourselves and exchanged brief chatter about unknown children (my toddler, her grandchild, about the same age), and happily parted ways. Mildly discombobulating, but a fine start to (my experience of) the fair, nevertheless.

Highlights:

Tina Leto (booth #A152): Gorgeous black and white plant photography. Simple and stunning. Savvy lower price points -- I mean way lower -- am tempted by her wee $25 prints, which one could easily center in a pre-made shadow box or floating frame; small sleek tin of 20 (? maybe) shots together at $150. The subtitle of her photography business card lists Alley, Garden, Prairie, which appeals to me somehow. They all have equal footing, these plants, regardless of categorization. Again: search for the treasure, right? We talked toddlers -- she affectionately described her granddaughter as "a demon child" -- and it's obvious, Leto's a pistol. I imagine she'd be a fun drinking companion. She most definitely has stories.

Back home, it was interesting to see a wealth of journalistic photography on her website -- Romania, small town America, portraiture. All this documentation of "moments in time" exist in stark contrast to the timeless, sleek visuals of her plant photography. On Day Two, I asked her how about the shift. She raised her eyebrows, half-shrugged: "Ehhh? What happened, I turned 50. I don't know." Also on day two, the fair jurors came around with a foam-core sign about her winning an Excellence Award. She waved it at the artist next door, "See? I wasn't lying." She returns inside the booth: "I exclaimed a lot when I heard they were awarding me, everyone around here probably heard it." 

Amanda Outcalt (/Out of Print) (booth #A260): 2D, mixed media with a strong emphasis on intaglio, drawing, painting. Self portraits, circus elephants, fish hooks, and polka-dotted sheep. Magical realism, no unicorns. Website here plus rich instagram.

"Putting Out Fires"

She also teaches art to kids K-5, so she often feels like she's handling mini crises -- "Everything gets so big for them, like from the outside you think it's something that doesn't matter much, but they have a huge reaction, so that's the title (at right). You just try to help them to a better place and sometimes something good comes out of it, that's why you have the balloons."

Outcalt, a first timer to the show, also won an Excellence award.

Emily Howard, a/k/a The Diggingest Girl (booth B4003): Talented and groovy, Howard balanced visitor chatter with restocking, and carving a Frida Kahlo linocut. She is an art school graduate with not one-but-two masters! (I keed, I keed --> a sensible pairing of MFA and arts education), who came into printmaking relatively late in her arts schooling. She took a class in 2006, liked it; and dove into printmaking on a more professional level in 2009. She said she always knew she wanted to do the art fair circuit, which I had every intention of asking about, because it seems so incredibly difficult to me, but different strokes. Why did she opt for prints over other media? "Practical reasons, actually. I love painting and sculpture, but those are hard to lug around; and I want to create beautiful things for people, that more people can afford, so that's prints." To me, that's 500 point answer**** 

"Gwendolyn,"

I like how "Gwendolyn" calls up Love & Rockets characters and Ghost World. I'm also a sucker for a nice herringbone pattern. Who's Gwendolyn?












 


Extra Credit
In my alternate, wealthy life, I'd send my personal shopper to Booth B2023 to fetch glittering, mesmerizing mosaics from the Canadian transplant with the best name your mouth has spoken in a long time. Check out Giampietro Filippetti's work here. If you aren't going to the art fair, the photos are probably the best you'll see, though they fall woefully short, since you can not walk back and forth, back and forth, to watch the tiles glitter in the light. Just shy of magical.

*I can, I used to work retail in its midst.
**the fair opens at 10AM
***Not redeemable for cash, not translateable to other real-world usage. But you know, gold star.

...Starts with a "B"

    Something's Up.

  

What's up?

 I'll show you.

BALLLLLLS!!!  

Or Bahwlllllllll, to be more precise. Dogs know they're magic. Babies know they're magic. My 18 m.o. daughter gathers them from room to room, and gives them rides in her cart. She spots them everywhere. Linoleum print to a baby's obsession. In black, 20 copies. Brown and blue editions still drying in the basement.

Color Variations

Rich brown won out over pale shade

Happy Saturday, All.

Your Birthday was Gross; Separately, Puppy Prints!

Vinology lowered their lights drastically at 6 PM on the nose, and the music developed a heavier, echoey beat, but on the booth side of the restaurant, the two filled tables are doing nothing to add to the hip, safely dangerous feel. There's me, who's drinking but wearing my knotted up scarf against the chill; and the family next door celebrating one of their two young adolescent's birthdays. The kids are mostly game, though McDonald's was mentioned wistfully. The mother started with brief  "how you were born"/ wonder of life anecdotes. The kids are mostly grossed out and no less confused for her forthright manner.

The girl, accusingly: "The baby PEED inside of you," as in: you allowed this to happen and you are, by extension, gross.

Mom: Well, no, not exactly, when you are pregnant, you are feeding the baby inside of you, and there is hardly any waste, because the baby is using everything to grow, to develop~~

Girl: ****

Boy, helpfully, to girl: You peed from your mouth.

Girl: No.

*****
So, on that note, I'm out of the house, and Javier's putting Oyo* to bed this evening. Given her current habits, she will likely sing over him tunelessly while he reads to her, attempt to climb over him to the reverse side of the glider chair, as if she would flip into some grand new world; and then whisper-coo "Daddy Daddy Daddy" at him from the crib in an obvious attempt at re-engagement. But, uh, I'm away from that. I guess this is what happens, right?

Summer has blurred into Fall, with plenty of gorgeous, refreshing days. The Moppet is tossing out various new word surprises every couple of days, though some are only discernible to Javier and myself. Yes! has been added to Yeah, 'ouse has appeared for buildings, a few key people have their own lovingly-but-consistently garbled names (Sadie reads as Adezede in her brain somehow); she is still on a mission to grab as many balls as she can.

I am down to three blocks left to carve for the Cakeasaurus picture book, woohoo!

Separately, I found time to do my first pet commission (linocut):

I'm pretty excited about this new design, both its finished state, as well as the potential it represents for future work (view Etsy listing here). I was dismayed to encounter a bit of printing difficulty on a mechanical level, though I have leads on some different routes to take for other larger soft linoleum cuts. Hmmm and hmm. It had been so long since I tried to print anything other than my usual shina plywood on the wheeled press, that it didn't even occur to me that something significantly softer would need such different attention. SO very much easier to carve, but much harder on my hands and wrists to print. Minor aging complaints...

*the one year old, whose name expires in March 2017. never use ages for nicknames! Should be obvious, yet this is the third time I have done it (prior instance: two adorable sisters, separated by one year in age)