One Day to Art Fair! Sneak Peek attempts thwarted

I can't believe the Art Fair starts tomorrow! Normally, in my former life, I'd be feeling chained to my office desk, filled with anticipatory agitation, akin to the small town olde timey "circus is coming!" I tried my best to work on Tuesday, knowing that my concentration level would plummet by Wednesday morning. And, depending on my work location, music I rarely wanted to hear would be reverberating through our office walls, further decimating productivity.

But not this year! No agitating another day, because the reporting data I need is in process, no SPSS crashing or powerpoint going all wackadoo on a once properly appointed chart! No passive aggressive communications around shared kitchen areas, or group chastenings due to misbehavior of a few... But also true: the day is dominated by simple, sing-song narratives about life basics (diapers, walking, birdsong); and daily happiness pivots on the satisfaction of one teeny, tiny person. And while the house is a bit isolated, the production level of physically leaving said isolation behind is something I am still coming to terms with. Right now, the deck door is open to the rain; and the dumpling has succumbed to a nap in the darkened living room.  

Time for a quick glance at the artists of the State Street Art Fair ! The jig is up whenever she discovers Mom is no longer holding her, so anybody's guess how long this post will be. Site niggle: I will say it'll be a bit shorter than I'd like, what with the unfriendly website navigation -- while every artist name (300 of them) in the alphabetical artist list is clickable, there's no image next to these names to entice site viewers, or to differentiate one name from the next at this page level -- you need to click into each individually to learn more. which means lots of people fall off at that page, rather than clicking forward or back. You may think that's a nothing complaint, but it's basic online knowledge that any time you ask people to click to another page, you lose a portion of your readership. So you MUST provide incentive. Grr. All artists by medium is slightly better. The Original's artist directory is a lot friendlier...

On that tip, printmaker Johanna Mueller was a name I recognized, so I bothered to click through. Last year when I stopped in her booth, she was on the verge of moving from Colorado to Austin, TX and opening her own gallery. Looks like she did it! See also: pinterest account here. Booth 332.

**** and that's about as far as I got. Patience with that official site ran out. Luckily, the Ann Arbor Art Fair FB page has been posting artists across the four fairs ("25 artists in 25 days"), so there's a little more to be had here. About as random as my posts have been, but with more photos and info... The rock n' play is creaking in time with Dumpling's full-body protests (back ARCH! back ARCH!); she is aggravated or hungry or both -- either way, she is ready for something different. Tomorrow I shall run off to the art fair (/away to join the circus); today we have very hungry caterpillars and swooshing through the air.

Armchair Travel: Ann Arbor Art Fair Artist Peek

It's debatable how much I'll get to wander the Ann Arbor Art Fair next week, but just right now, with the baby asleep in a snuggly blanket in the study and a steady thrum of rain hitting our roof, it's a good time to visit the artists' directory for "the original." Starting in the A's, we have numerous returning artists here ... If I have the baby freedom, I'll check out:

• Kent Ambler's woodcuts. Is there a growing printmaker presence at the show, or is it just my imagination? Ambler's prints strike me as more traditional woodblocks, though this may be inaccurate from an art school perspective. More rough hewn? Blockier? Words are clearly failing me. Or I am failing them. Anyhoo, they look similar to the woodblock prints I grew up seeing in my parents' house: bold lines, high contrast between light and dark, palpable texture. While I am most drawn to his single block work, his use of color is also quite good, as seen in "On the Hunt." Separately, block constructs, whaaaaaaaaaat??? In theory, we destroy our woodblocks after an edition, which I have an aversion to; but every once in a while an artist will do something else with the blocks -- or flat out sell them. Looks like he deconstructs his... Booth A532, Hails from Greenville, SC 

• Jerry Brem's large scale mixed media paintings of book shelves hold appeal within their abstracted repetition and color variation; and inspire (a knee-jerk?) fondness. The repetitions of chairs though, aggravate in their floatiness and call to mind a furniture warehouse. Will see how they sit (*sorry*) in person.  Booth A520, hails from Lady's Island, SC

• Curt Miller's prints. His website made me laugh, why not go laugh at him in person? Booth A537, Montoursville, PA

• Katie Mulsoff's watercolors! Yayyyyyyyy, I love her! Returning. One year on, and I still love the pieces on my wall. Had I a bigger kitchen, I would buy some of her produce pieces. Baby currently talks to "Come Together," a still life with bird, with outstretched wings, flanked by ferns and small purple flowers. Warning: her work sells out. Booth A328, Stoddard, WI

• Ray Maseman's narrative multiple plate etchings call to mind older schools of children's book illustration; Listed categories under his Projects tab on his web site gives some of the flavor: "Saints Reimagined," "Sub-Arctic Expedition," "Giraffe Story." Booth A518, hails from Albuquerque, NM

• Sarah Bean's book art. Returning. I *believe* her booth was one that caused a buzz among my artist/book friends last year? Always, book sculptures make me feel ambivalent. Books! Drawn to them. Books were cut up! Makes me cringe. Booth A504, from Redford, VA

• Local painter Karin Wagner Coron's landscapes. Returning. Local readers may have viewed her pieces at WSG on Main Street. I am a long-time admirer. The photo onsite doesn't do justice to her work -- the colors and compositions of her large pieces simultaneously energize and calm -- they'd be a pleasure to live with. Booth A364.

• David Dallison's globetrotting plein air watercolors. Returning. I missed his booth last year, but looks promising. Booth A514, Waukegan, IL  

• Creepy, fabulous, claustrophobic, plush dystopia of National Treasure. Joachim Knill returns. Always popular. always disquieting. Booth A206, Hannibal, MO

On a *completely* different note, artist's statements~~~ This really can help to differentiate you if it's done well. Judging by an initial scan, oiiiiiii, so many generic ones... Either inflated with art speak, or bland and obvious (I allow my viewers to bring their experiences to my work, therefore, *they* complete the art -- yes, thanks, Art 101; I use many media and colors, so it's never boring! ---hmmm, what?) On the flip side, a statement can occasionally miss the mark by striking an oddly personal tone, as in: "I just try to be myself, it is sometimes difficult when the whole world is telling you not to be" (note: this was the entire artist statement). Flip flip flip side -- this bare bones statement definitely needs fleshing out -- it tells nothing of Matthew Hemminghaus' motivation, but admit is -- it kind of makes you want to check it out (Booth A411) : "I build miniature sets in my studio which i use to photograph my chickens."

Also of Note: Artist Demonstrations! Dallison, Bean, and others are demonstrating their craft (photography, clay, fiber, metalworking, more) at select times. Full schedule here.

AND OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE BABY HAS BEEN ASLEEP THIS LONG. A blanket is being rustled. I will stop while I'm ahead.

When in Portland, Maine, Swing by She-Bear Gallery

This! These, these, these.

I received a wee package on Monday and it definitely numbers among my happiest small art purchases. If any of you have considered, but discarded the possibility of, selling card versions of your work, I urge you to reconsider. For lo, cards are the gateway drug to larger works! ... Maybe, maybe not. My actions have yet to prove this point. I have been mooning over Holly Meade's prints since I ran across them a couple years ago and I have yet to make the leap to larger pieces. But it's a matter of money and wall space rather than lack of faith in continued love. The cards themselves will certainly help to keep her artwork top of mind. Where will they work best? Clustered in the study, a boon to typing? Cheering up the basement, near the carving bench?

I was lured in first by "Against the Tide" (2009), though I'm not sure where I saw it; once in the gallery of Meade's work, Ioved prints included "Glimpse" (2002) and "150 Working Days Per Eagle," "Nightwalker" (both 2012). Regrettably, I only became aware of Meade after her death in July 2013; but the variety and quality of her work will; certainly inspire illustrators and printmakers to come! The humor and lively joy inherent in her pieces made her well-suited to be an illustrator of over 30 children's picture books.

RE: the pictured designs --

• "Invitation": I love its simplicity. A single outstretched hand, viewed with a measure of trepidation by the primary figure, whose own hands are cloaked in gloves, but whose garments and skin are the same hue as the one reaching out. Her ambivalence about the potential connection can be seen in the opposing lines of her scarf and hair. 
• "Coon" Wonderful variation in line boosts the energy and sense of simultaneity, both appropriate for a raccoon; dynamic personality conveyed by the animal's framing.
• "Angel Disguised as Woodpecker" -- favorite title and conceit
• "Cut, Insert, Fold, Fly" -- strong image and message. Debatable that achieving an exalted status, or soaring, is easily achieved, but the idea that both options are open to us, for us, is refreshing.

Holly Meade's artwork is handled through her daughter Jenny Smick at She-Bear Gallery, located in Portland, Maine; if I were nearby, I'd definitely be paying visits to see the rotating exhibits, as well as Meade's body of work. Let me know if you check it out!  

Picture Book Update: Monster dwarfed by Obsession

Well, all craziness aside, I am forging ahead. Here's the next Cakeasaurus design in queue to get editioned at my friend's printing press -- the third design in line!

I carved this one in less than two weeks -- a record for me, as I usually milk it along, fitting in time here, time there; building up a carving callous in the first couple days and then slowing down a bit. I listen to This American Life, Marc Maron podcasts; carve from this angle, leaning into the block, carve from that angle, curling myself over the board...wander off for a cup of tea, or to bundle wet laundry into the dryer. I'd like to say that since time is shorter*, I have discovered greater focus and that I now truly understand and honor the gift of my time! BUT, no. I still slack. But you also need to know when to pick your battles: if baby mutterings are only going to escalate once your put her down? Best to become one with the couch. In truth, boosted productivity came down to the ipad. I parked it in between my carving bench S-hook and the wall and boom! I carved all the way through John Leguizamo's "Ghetto Klown."

*non-Baby time, that is.

With the subsequent baby care breaks, came the first season of "True Detective." I got sucked into drawled out menace of Matthew Mcconaughey's obsessive character and lopped off the tip of Cakeasaurus' tail. A portion of a lower case f was lost to another pivotal moment, but wood glue helped us out. I didn't take a photo of the test print itself -- will wait until I make some full-fledged prints... more process shots over at flickr here.

Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down

Almost three months into the baby adventure and I am definitely still developing parental sea legs. The ground possesses unreliable solidity at the same time it demands much more faith than I am used to giving out to anything or anyone; and then my scope eventually narrows down to our daughter's little face, either in repose, or delight, or a frightful wail. I know this shifting scope is good for me, and essential for the three of us; but a strange journey, even so.

A couple weeks ago, pain landed me in urgent care; after which I wasn't permitted to breast feed. This utterly confounded baby, who at one point licked the center of my chest before peering up at me intently. Why have you forgotten the rules?? More frequently, she slammed her forehead* against my shoulder, and shoved the bottle nipple around in her mouth before fitfully sucking on it. Meanwhile, the electric pump was giving me fits several times daily. Now, we are a few days past it and at an uneasy peace. Our former rhythm seems lost, but is hopefully only temporary.    

*hard! noggin!

This weekend's rain has been heavy enough to merit flash flood alerts; the backyard's a swamp, and water has snaked into the basement. Last night it was wonderful to fall asleep to, today a bit gloomier, though I looked out this afternoon just in time to see a rainbow moments before it shimmered away.

While I have yet to establish my new artwork groove, I have snuck in a bit of printmaking.

Here's the test print of Cakeasaurus, spying the cake-laden home of Quimby:

Pretty simple, not too much carving for the night scene, but I am pleased at its overall effect. I will do some "neatening" carving before I venture out to Maestra's studio to use her press, but it's 95% of the way there. I also pulled a handful of partial prints of the "floating" cake, for use in some woodblock cards. We'll see how those work with my current batch of decorative papers.

Also dropped off some more blank cards with Literati

Bookbound is also carrying a small selection of larger cards

Mammoth Baby: Attack!

Mammoth baby, silhouetted, lurches through the townscape, all the more dangerous for inconsistent muscle control. She startles: her arms shoot out and above, batting airplanes from the sky. The planes tailspin and nosedive; her fingers flutter, arms lower. Her gurgle poses a question, but one the townspeople have yet to decipher. Their answers are suggestions that go ignored. Mammoth baby peers around using her right eye while she gums a Fiat 500 meditatively, only to abandon it in favor of one juicy, dimpled hand. The smarter members of the populace seize the opportunity to flee to neighboring burbs. The escape attempt is shorter for some than for others, as low-riding cars stall out in pools of drool at freeway on-ramps. 

Those who remain witness classic infant magic at a grand scale: within moments, Mammoth Baby morphs between Gerber logo, Truman Capote, Chairman Mao, a kewpie doll, and Orson Welles. Baby scream-squeals, shaking the plate glass of storefronts, and vigorously shakes her head back and forth, sneering with full, drool-glossed lips. Her displeasure mounts like gathering storm clouds, until she is distracted by an inflated, beflagged elephant bobbing inexplicably by a thoroughfare. She woozily grasps the elephant's neck and wrenches it from its rope moorings, as the car dealership owner calculates another loss for the month.

She emits another squeal, this one heralding more pleasure; and with that she shrinks back to normal baby size. Ten pounds and counting, with "extremely impressive" neck muscles. People exclaim over her tiny-ness, but they do not realize she defies physics: she is denser, more substantial, than a being of her size ought to be. She has force. She sighs in her sleep, and then snores with the softest, tiniest wheeze; each exhalation sounds like a small, melancholy question mark.

Reading Bounty!

Apparently bitey.

At the last second before leaving, I darted back inside to make sure there were no strange messages attached to my library card. I had paid a real-money fine sometime in 2014 (DVDs, with their $1-a-day-late fee always dangerous for me) but was the card still good? Had it expired? This is how long it has been. Prior to this past year, with every job held in downtown Ann Arbor, I have regularly skulked off to the library over lunchtimes of despair.

La Nuit (Miro), granted 3.5 stars!...heh

For me, libraries have always been similar to thrift stores (also beading, fabric stores): joy is held in their potential. Maybe that exact thing you want is not there, missing, or spoken for -- an occasion for grousing -- but almost every time, something else presents itself that you didn't know to ask for. And if you hadn't slowed down your day, you wouldn't have noticed it. It is often better than what you asked for initially. And so, if you are like me, you have to wander. Stroll down a side stack and pull out something random. Look at artwork you maybe wouldn't buy and contemplate for the nth time how cool it would be, if you were to reserve one space on your wall, and swap out temporary library-framed artwork in that space, you could challenge your reactions to it over a few weeks (just long enough to prevent its presence from fading into the background).

In short, it takes me outside of myself, reminds me of all the talent and insight out there, of which I am ignorant. And while the interwebs also does this, and can suspend time while you discover something new and fascinating, I find it way too easy to return to myself again. Why is that? Is it to do with the intellectual search running parallel to the physical search? It seems we have ventured past the initial dismissal of online living as one bereft of bona fide social engagement, so maybe it's along the lines of studies indicating the brain processes differently a book read on a Kindle and one read in the traditional fashion.

In any case, library visits have now acquired a luxurious sheen, and I was most excited to scamper off. I am told that once baby is mobile, I will lose the opportunity to read, but with nursing, I am still able to do so regularly. A certain haziness does impact reading comprehension at times, wherein my brain sagely nods over phrases like "Manlisted for the Short Booker Prize," before backtracking; even less fortunately, characters are sometimes mashed together, which in turn bungs up plots. Alas, gotta work with where you are! Today's two-bag haul included fiction from the browsing section, a Matisse art book snagged from a to-be-shelved cart, plus a couple handfuls of CDs. I passed on the theremin (seriously! Ann Arbor library has a music section!), leaving the moog accessories to the youngsters slouching between the rows of equipment.

Of note:

"When the secret Service agents climbed up into the large oak tress lining the perimeter of the yard, Alice Townley thought they looked like giant tarsiers. She had seen tarsiers in her picture book about wild animals Do You Know What's Out There? According to the book, tarsiers looked like teddy bears, but they were mean and would eat you if you startled them." Garden for the Blind by Kelly Fordon

"A third of the way through the half-mile walk from the landlord's house to his hut, Nitai Das's feet began to sway. Or maybe it is the head-spin again. He sits down on the lifeless field he has to cross before he can reach his hut. There isn't a thread of shade anywhere. The May sun is an unforgiving fire; it burns his blood dry." The Lives of Others*, Neel Mukherjee

• also, great epigraph "How can we imagine what our lives should be without the illumination of the lives of others?" James Salter, Light Years
• *manlisted

We Are Pirates, by Daniel Handler, of which Neil Gaiman said: "The strangest, most brilliant offering yet from the mind behind Lemony Snicket": Sold.

"In the face of calamity, the Colliers' first impulse was to overspend at the bookstore." A reasonable way to combat anxiety. You Could Be Home by Now, by Tracy Manaster

*****

Listening to an old Devotchka favorite, drinking tea and waiting for the rain to fall on our field of dandelion ghost blossoms. Armed for the week ahead!