Saint Bernards for SBRF

I haven't heard from Carol, but I am going ahead with this illustration because I told her I'd do it, and I need to tie up the obligations I've already put into place as a part of resolving my New Year's Resolutions. I spent some time on this today and have spent some in the past days too, trying to get a photo of Boris and Mika adapted so that they 're wearing party hats. I originally thought I'd try to do a woodblock print of them, but that seemed far too risky and involved for what this is - a volunteer project intended for printing up for people who want to gift a donation to the Rescue Foundation. Working on this today was good for me - it surprised me at how much stress I had built up about this project. It is not easy!

In which I find something to do in 2009 and wish everyone a Happy New Year.

Resolutions are one of my favorite annual traditions. Amidst an existential crisis, what better thing to take on than creating a list of things to do other than to farm and sleep? Everything beyond that is gravy, and since we live in a society where we are not all farmers, I must find something else to do. So. I may take on a vegetable garden this year. It will have to be in the front yard, mainly to avoid heavy Saint Bernard feet and certain habits of any one of my individual roaming large pet birds in my yard. My neighbors may not appreciate a big square plot of garden in my front yard, so I may instead get creative about changing the planted area of our front yard to include vegetables. I wish myself luck with that.

Next: knitting. I have a few items on my to do list there, including a pair of socks for my niece that involve the knitting of bobbles of different colors. Should be a challenge. I also want to re-knit a vest for myself (I'm always cold), finish two different socks I started in 2008 for Dave, and maybe a scarf or two. I'm a sucker for color, so I'm looking forward to knitting something with Noro yarns.

Woodblock printing: bravely accept the nonsensical aspect of it and make some prints despite the fact that woodblock printing is not practical, that although it is not practical it is still a tradition that can evoke something within a person making it worthy of something, something refreshingly not digital but with a very present human behind the baren, unlike some forms of printmaking and/or creative expression. Hmm. So the plan is to at least a) print the heron blocks I carved about two months ago and b) begin some prints that are simply not profound conceptually in any way. Friendly prints. Yes, that will be my series for 2009 - the Friendly prints.

Finally, I will try to accept the challenge of creating something for Saint Bernard Rescue Foundation. They need a piece of work for greeting cards. May fall under the newly formed Friendly Prints category

Those are my personal resolutions. I have parental resolutions and housekeeping resolutions as well, but those I am going to refrain from listing here.

Happy New Year!

penguins on a mission

It's been over a year since I last printed, so this was kind of a daring move to print my own Christmas cards. Well you see it was like this: I have a party I'm supposed to attend tomorrow night, although weather may postpone it. Said party will be attended by people I work with/for and I cannot afford to give everybody a Starbucks card, so in order to give a nice gift this translates to a handmade card and home made cookies. I carved the blocks several days ago, mixed up the cookie dough for half the cookies today, baked other cookies last night. You know, it wasn't so bad. The printing I mean. I used some Nishinouchi and some Shin Torinoko white, both from McClain's, and I actually managed to moisten the paper not too much, not too little, and the registration held too! Helps that the paper is small. I printed the red and black twice on each print, and only screwed up 4 with a total run of 22 finished prints. I'm pleased with it, no tears!

To finish these, I will trim and glue them to the front of some pre-cut standard cards I have, then stuff them into envelopes. Oh the days get so short this close to Christmas!

Maybe now I will be brave enough to print the heron blocks I carved a couple of months back.

carving out a better day.

Christmas is definitely a nice thing. Being human is mysterious, but Christmas has come every year in my lifetime,; I know I can rely on it coming and have decided to try to make it as good as possible, especially for my kids. First thing: carve. I decided to try to make Christmas cards on behalf of the family. Besides, carving gave me something to do and it is an amazingly therapeutic activity.





I actually have a damp pack sitting in wait for the first printing session I've had in over a year. I admit that, as usual, I'm having some jitters about printing. Maybe I wouldn't be so nervous if I wasn't supposed to drive to Portland tomorrow for a work-related holiday party, cards made and cookies too, which are supposed to accompany said cards.

I've been knitting a lot for Christmas gifts, and this year we have a significant cold snap that has kept the schools closed an extra week. We live in the hills, and here in the West we are not set up with a system to accommodate even a little bit of ice, so we are disabled with a few days of a bit of snow; very unlike the midwest or the east, but they are set up to deal with these things because there, snow and ice are givens. Here our society has not budgeted for such things - cheaper to just shut down several activities for a few days than to finance something on a larger, more systemic scale. Meanwhile, the boys have enjoyed the snow:



And as boys will be boys, they decided to create a Calvin-inspired, morbid snowman:



Life is strange, infinite, chaotic, perhaps purposeless, but at least the boys find humor worthy and why not. Why not?

Considerations.

I composed some preliminary work of paintings I thought I might try to take on although they are all quite hopeless in topic. I'm not sure that I'll carry any of them out, but here's a quick view of one I worked on for a few nights, that is before I saw my dad at the foster care home. He knew my name, but could only breathe it out for a minute, registered my presence for only short periods of time, then his awareness of my presence was completely gone, although his eyes were open. The calendar on the wall, the clock, the emptiness - it was all so horrid, so tragic and unbearable for me. I sobbed while I wrote out the rent check, but seeing old people die is nothing for the caregivers. Facing death is really hard for me. My neighbor is a very committed Christian and I have found some of her words comforting, her kindness, mostly. I wish I could believe that man has no power over the world and feel just fine about that, accept it as a fact. My neighbor says she finds hope by focusing on working toward the principles she believes in, and those we share: kindness, goodness, generosity, the basic good that we believe is a part of us instead of an approach I really can't fathom, as in the actions of the terrorists and this time what they have done in India.

For now instead of investing my time into actually creating paintings of the despair about the issues facing humanity that I see, I am sharing what I have done in digital sketches:
First was after experiencing the election and hearing extensive discussion about race in the US, all while I was thinking about women's position too.


Next is from a sketch I made from a quick view I saw going over an overpass. I was thinking about the energy issue and how many people there are and the intrusive infrastructure we have created that is so foreign to the land that exists underneath, not to mention how much we depend on oil. It used to be all wild not so long ago, no I-5.


Last is not a great looking sight, but it illustrates my despondency about the explosion of the human population and the resulting scarcity of food and water.


Pretty dismal point of view, I know. But there is an artist whose work I really like, whose work is compelling and not disturbing or horrifying or depressing, just a gentle kind adventure that doesn't tear my soul to bits. It's Lynita Shimizu's work. I'm going to rest there and I think I'll be trying to take on the piece I told my friend at Saint Bernard Rescue Foundation I'd do for them.

A beautiful fall day.

Now that it is deep into fall, sunny days are particularly rare and appreciated. Today was one of those days. I looked out and saw this leaf positively glowing in my yard, so I grabbed my camera for a photo. I went in for a closer look, a photo, turned and saw the stones of our walkway laced with moss:

I know a lot of people don't really appreciate moss in their grass, on their roofs or between the rocks on their paths, but I think it's kind of beautiful. Moss has an admirable ability to find fuel for life in areas where nothing else has much opportunity to grow.

I've been finishing the socks for my friend Sakurako. I tried them on her tonight, and I have just about one solid day of knitting left on them before they're done, but that will have to wait. I have a meeting in Portland on Saturday, work related, and I must gear up for that. Which means I won't be printing as soon as I expected to be. I've been committing myself too easily to projects that aren't within the parameters of what I claim I want to be doing. I open my mouth and am full of optimism for what I think I can do, but in reality my plans require about three of me. And for another thing, I have two kids, one of whom is homeschooled, two Saint Bernards, three cats and six large pet birds that stroll around my yard each day. Too many animals!

inspiring shot in the arm

Because today is a holiday, my oldest son has no school. I agreed to drive him to Portland to spend time with his two buddies who also love computer programming and collaborate on projects together with him. The forecast said it would be mighty rainy, so although I thought I'd take Cyrus for a (free today) stroll through the Japanese Gardens not too far from where we'd be, I thought instead we'd go to the Portland Art Museum and/or the Contemporary Crafts Gallery, now called the Museum of Contemporary Craft. It has moved since I was last there, which was before my son Noah was born, maybe in 1993. I was throwing pots at the time and working as a ceramics lab assistant at Portland Community College under Wally Schwab, an accomplished potter trained at Alfred. Wally was well acquainted with a fairly well-known couple who produced pottery together out of their studio in northern California, Otto and Viveka Heino. They made huge vessels, and we went to their reception and open house. Dave (my husband) became famous that day because he got his photo in The Oregonian, paper cup in hand. Anyway...

So Cyrus and I headed first to the Crafts Museum, or so we thought we were going to do, but unfortunately, Cy got sick in the car. Fortunately though, he had nylon pants on and fortunately, my car has plasticized rubber flooring and fortunately, I used to live in that area of Portland so I remembered where the store was to get some paper towels and moist wipes. He was fine once all was cleaned up, although my car doesn't smell very good right now. No regurgitation would get in our way, so off we went to the Craft Museum. While walking to the museum, we passed a couple of galleries, and stopped at one, the Augen Gallery, which had some very engaging paintings by Jef Gunn visible from the sidewalk. The site doesn't quite convey the energy of his work or some of the nuance and depth that's more apparent in person. Cy and I had a great time looking at the work. There were even some big-name pieces there by Chuck Close, Frank Stella, Picasso and Miro. Great experience for both of us. Then we went on to the Craft Museum, where all things were colorful and alive with fun! The sculpture exhibition there was fantastic - there is a dedicated site for it here. Who would think to make a closed vessel made of scotch tape? Or melt a bunch of plastic toy soldiers into the shape of a low bowl? Cy was mesmerized by the sights, and particularly liked the sculpture made of hair combs. Very, very exciting. We wrapped up our Portland adventure by stopping by Knit/Purl. I bought a skein of lovely cashmere and silk yarn for a Christmas gift I plan to make for my sister, then we went on to pick up my oldest son and drove back home to Salem. It was an invigorating trip, such a breath of fresh air, and I had no idea how parched my mind had become being away from the cultural center that Portland is. I miss it for that.