popbaroque

Borrowing from the Greeks

2009-03-20T10:39:00.000-07:00

The secret to happiness is freedom, the secret of freedom is courage.

The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out and meet it.—Thucydides

Whenever we feel fearful, cornered and optionless, if we are open to it, balm and inspiration are available. We have choices, no matter how small they seem. Little by little, great change is possible.

While rearranging and reorganizing my overflowing office, I found these two quotes by Thucydides, tucked away in a drawer. I've had some dark days recently, and they are among the glimmers of light and hope life has thrown my way.

The old gypsy curse, "May you live in interesting times" applies to all of us sharing this planet. It also applied to Thucydides. An Athenian, he is best known as the historian of the Peloponnesian War, a 27 year long conflict between Athens and Sparta. He was in his 20s when the war began, served as a general and was exiled for a military defeat. Unable to take an active role in civic life, he chose to dedicate himself to being an impartial observer and chronicler of the war between Athens and Sparta, and so the impact of his life has echoed down through history in a way it probably never would have if he had been able to continue in a military or political career.

When I apply the long lens of history, my problems seem very small, and of far less significance. The tiny city-state of Athens inspires me. So small, often beleaguered, but with a philosophy that changed the world because they had not only convictions, but courage. Their ideals have made it possible for me, a woman with no fortune, aristocratic lineage or connections, born over 2500 years later, to have freedom of choice and the power to engage my destiny.

Closer to home, a woman who knew this well was Amelia Earhart. So different in so many ways, I don't think I have to spell out what they have in common. I have cherished these words for almost 20 years now:

Courage is the price life exacts for granting peace.—Amelia Earhart

Preparing Peacocks

2009-03-03T19:24:00.000-08:00

My avian obsession continues . . . and I realize if I don’t change up the subject, I’m going to have to rename this blog. The current topic of investigation and illustration is peacocks, but perhaps I have an excuse this time. Saturday night I dined at Watershed, where executive chef Scott Peacock works his magic {the vegetables are especially delicious} and earlier in the week I found the most marvelous treehouse and a menu by Chef Peacock via Pia’s blog. A curious combination of coincidence, no? Not surprising, then, that when I glanced over at the peacock that’s been pinned on my board for the last two years, I decided that NOW was the time to use it in an illustration.

So . . . illustration completed, culinary preparations of peacock came naturally to mind. And really, if there’s anything more fascinating than birds, surely it is food.

I easily found a medieval recipe* for preparing peacocks, and was poised to offer it to you . . . but as I perused the instructions, it occurred to me that it might be a bit offputting to my more sensitive readers. Not that the recipe is particularly cruel, mind you, except for the obvious sacrifice of the bird. It’s just a bit, um—graphic—unless you are an experienced taxidermist.

So instead I offer you a few alternatives:

The first is a cocktail {yes, I know the pun is a bit much}

Peacock’s Tail

Ingredients:
1 oz Chartreuse liquor
3/4 oz grenadine syrup {semi-frozen}
1 tsp Strega herbal liqueur
Lemon Sherbet

Directions:
Pour Chartreuse into an oversized frosted martini glass. Partially fill with crushed ice, tamping down the top with the flat end of a barspoon. Add a layer of the semi-frozen grenadine, and fill with lemon sherbet. Sprinkle Strega on top, and garnish with a mint leaf.

Scott Peacock’s Fried Chicken Recipe
Adapted from The Gift of Southern Cooking

Ingredients:
1/2 cup kosher salt
2 quarts cold water
1 three-pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces
1 quart buttermilk
1 pound lard
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup country ham pieces, or 1 thick slice country ham cut into 1/2-inch strips
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Directions:
1. Make the brine: Dissolve kosher salt in cold water. Place chicken parts in a nonreactive bowl or pot; add brine and cover completely. Refrigerate 8 to 12 hours.
2. Drain the brined chicken and rinse out the bowl. Return chicken to the bowl and pour the buttermilk over. Cover and refrigerate for 8 to 12 hours. Drain the chicken on a wire rack, discarding the buttermilk.
3. Meanwhile, prepare the fat for frying by putting the lard, butter and country ham into a heavy skillet or frying pan. Cook over low heat for 30 to 45 minutes, skimming as needed, until the butter ceases to throw off foam and the country ham is browned. Use a slotted spoon to remove the ham carefully from the fat.
4. Just before frying, increase the temperature to medium-high and heat the fat to 335 degrees. Prepare the dredge by blending together the flour, cornstarch, salt and pepper in a shallow bowl or on wax paper. Dredge the drained chicken pieces thoroughly in the flour mixture, then pat well to remove all excess flour.
5. Using tongs, slip some of the chicken pieces, skin side down, into the heated fat. {Do not overcrowd the pan or the cooking fat will cool. Fry in batches, if necessary.} Regulate the fat so it just bubbles, and cook for 8 to 10 minutes on each side, until the chicken is golden brown and cooked through. Drain thoroughly on a wire rack or on crumpled paper towels, and serve.

Fried chicken is delicious eaten hot, warm, at room temperature or cold.

* If however you have a morbid turn of mind, are fascinated by things grisly or suffer from insatiable curiosity, by all means, check out the link

When Spring and Snow collide

2009-03-01T20:13:00.000-08:00

Ashen Beauty

2009-02-27T11:16:00.000-08:00

It is the most beautiful of ashen days, a steady rain outside soaking the grey, grey world. It is a day for solitary wandering in the woods by the lake. A day to intimately examine the wet lichens and mosses. A day to watch reflections in the pond at Piedmont Park or the dripping, saturated blooms of star magnolias and daffodils. A day for hot tea and lemon in delicate china cups, sipped while reading 19th century novels under the warmth of an incandescent lamp. A day to meet friends in the twilight at the cozy bar of Parish for cocktails and oysters.

From the Archives: Through the Orchard

2009-02-26T20:09:00.000-08:00

A broad, flat lawn stretches in front of you, a swath of deepest emerald under luminous blue, empty in the twilight except for a table alone in the center, a single candelabra casting a pale amber circle on its surface. You cross to the table, lift the candelabra and carry it with you as you continue over the lawn and pass into an orchard. On the border of the orchard you feel the edges of the grass, cool on the lawn, now dry and warm. The air is coated with the scent of fruit and lies heavy between the trees, silvering the bark and graying the leaves. As if the candle flames had flown and multiplied, fireflies flicker above your head. Thick and random they glint in the twists of branches and the spaces between the trees.

But as you pass deeper in the orchard, the trees grow denser, older, and the number of fireflies gradually dwindles. The trees close in together and the branches above your head change from sinuous, cultivated curves bearing leaves and fruit to straight, stiff branches of wild hardwoods. Beneath your feet the grass has given way to a packed forest floor scattered with leaves. The fireflies are gone, but the flame points of the candle burn brighter now, illuminating the indigo spaces between the trees.

Beetlemania

2009-02-20T13:55:00.000-08:00

“The Creator, if he exists, is inordinately fond of beetles.”— J.B.S. Haldane

I am too. And craving this book by Christopher Marley.

Forget diamonds and rubies. I want a necklace of jeweled scarabs, bezel set in 24 karat gold, cabochon-style, thank you very much. Can you hear me, Mr. de Vera?

Armchair Ornithology

2009-02-18T16:47:00.000-08:00

I find the beauty of birds irresistible. I want to draw them, study them, collect books about them and, in certain cases, collect particular specimens themselves. At the moment, the avian I want to collect is Andrew Bird. Or, perhaps more specifically, his music.*

My introduction to Andrew Bird was a promotional flyer featuring the back of his head, covered by a mop of brown hair, juxtaposed with the exotically plumed heads of tropical birds, again from the back. The flyer announced a performance, but the nature of that performance was undefined. I had no idea who Mr. Bird was or what he did. I only knew I would like it.

Due to my failure to investigate this alluring mystery, I didn't actually hear his music until over a year later, while housesitting for a friend. A woman of diverse and sophisticated musical taste, she had Armchair Apocrypha and I eagerly popped it into the sound system. What came out was delicious—a peculiar and original combination of verbal virtuosity, evocative rhythm, layered melody, violin, glockenspiel, guitar, musical samplings and whistling.

This past month, it occurred to me to check if perhaps he would be performing in Atlanta again. Very unusual for me, as I don't seek out live music. I found that yes, he would be. Very soon. And the show was sold out. I contacted friends with connections and actually considered standing outside the venue the night of the show to see if anyone was selling tickets . . . I really wanted to see that show. I concentrated my energy; I had a feeling it just might happen, although I had no idea how it possibly could. And then, two days before, my friend emailed me. She had two tickets and had decided to ask ME if I wanted to attend the show. I'm sure you can imagine my answer.

In honor of Mr. Bird, I wore a pair of j. crew jeans, lavishly embroidered with chrysanthemums and, naturally, birds. Mr. Bird himself wore a brown jacket with a teal glen plaid, along with a red tie. The richness and layered delicacy of his music was even more wonderful in person. I wanted to open my eyes to watch him perform, to close them and bathe in the nuances of the aural magic.

It’s hard to pick just one of his compositions to share with you, but Imitosis is a favorite—and it pleases me that the carapace of one of the insects is created from a vintage rhinestone button identical to one I inherited. {It’s the circular rhinestone one with the gold border}.

*Although I would certainly welcome Mr. Bird himself as a most delightful ornament to my nest.

My Sweet Valentines

2009-02-14T19:17:00.000-08:00

This is for you:

and this:

and this:

and this:

Emily’s Cup

2009-02-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

I have been quite enamored with this whole cup series. I need to finish Eve’s Cup, and do the write up for Ms. Dickinson’s here (did you know she was quite the amateur botanist? and dressed all in white in her later years?) and then I think I'll go onto Mr. Poe’s, as I have that idea already sketched out and am dying to see how it looks finalized. They are going to start life as notecards, and then perhaps become a painting series.

Future subjects may include (feel free to offer suggestions):

Lucretia Borgia
Amelia Earhardt
Elizabeth I
Ophelia
Socrates
Carl Linnaeus
Hester Prynne
Anna Karenina
Madame Curie
Edgar Allen Poe
Aleister Crowley
Charles Baudelaire
Winston Churchill
Sherlock Holmes

Ancestor Money

2009-02-03T03:58:00.001-08:00

Go through the gate of Chinatown on Bush Street, stick to the parallel streets, and you'll see what Chinatown wants you to see, what the merchants have to offer you. But dart down the perpendicular streets and the alleys, and you will see what wares they carry for their own.

Among my most vivid memories: standing outside a fortune cookie factory, the fragrance of warm batter mixed with the sound of mah-jong tiles clacking and clattering. Stand there more than a few moments, and silence falls. Gambling to mah-jong is {I assume} illegal.

Once, while researching ideas for an asian senior services fundraiser invitation, I walked into a tiny tabac shop and found red money envelopes, incense, joss papers, sets of paper clothing for ancestors {complete with watches and shoes} and wads of dollar bills, printed in supersaturated colors on cheap paper. Currency from the Bank of Hell. This money delighted me. "Is this in case Grandpa wasn't nice and went to the bad place?" I asked the proprietor. He assured me that yes, indeed that was exactly what it was for.

I bought stacks of this money and wish I'd bought more. Who can resist wads of 100, 500 and 1000 dollar bills, all for one or two US dollars? Not me, apparently. I folded money rings from some of it, and one day I'd love to use it for a girls poker night.

More Shameless Self Promotion

2009-02-01T21:42:00.000-08:00

It just had to be done.

I'm an "It" Girl

2009-01-30T08:52:00.001-08:00

. . . . Which means I've been tagged!! For the very first time.

Prolific P of the deliciously addictive What Possessed Me has passed me the "Fourth Folder, Fourth Photo" Baton. Meaning I'm to go into my fourth folder, choose the fourth photo down, post it and explain myself. Because I'm on a Mac, I have folders, but not exactly in a "fourth folder down" sort of way. So I went into my "personal projects" folder and choose the fourth folder, fourth photo down in there.

It's actually oddly appropriate because it brings to mind the photo in the first post I saw of P's: which I immediately decided must be her, and is now my image of her. I later realized that as she works in an office, and fashion models don't work in offices, that it probably isn't her. But too late now. In my mind, P walks around in black ribbon bustiers and teeny tiny white chapeaux.

My photo was "borrowed." I don't know from where, so sadly I can't give the attribution it deserves. I "borrowed" it for inspiration, as I'm mildly obsessed with 18th century France and I'd love to do an Alice at the Court of Versailles series one day.

And also because one day I want to have a party where I can wear swallows, feathers, roses and other such things in my hair. Perhaps croquet and cocktails on the lawn of the Atlanta Botanical Garden, with all the party guests wearing full, white 18th c. fashion. Oh! And we could have candle-lit chandeliers hoisted through the trees and trained, exotic animals performing tricks and roaming the grounds.

Oh . . . so I hereby nominate:

My Castle In Spain
Jen and Jake
Labor of Love
raedunn

Tag! Now you're "It."

Avian Royalty

2009-01-28T20:13:00.001-08:00

Tiny feathered queens and kings of hearts. A little bit Anthropologie catalog, a little bit tissue paper, pen and glue, and a whole lot of time.

Where it Begins

2009-01-26T09:37:00.001-08:00

A Sunday afternoon, so overcast it's almost froggy. A coveted table scored at a favorite cafe, one of the slightly larger ones under good, warm light {I feel somewhat guilty, but it's not like there was another table available}. God may be resting, but the people populating the tables, chair and couches at Inman Perk are not. Including me.

I've been researching and sketching on a client's project. {And I know you aren't reading this, but if you are—see, you are ranking high on the priority list}. I've been good, diligent, focused. I've made progress. But I'm hitting a wall.

It begins. I stop drawing yoga poses and Js and Ys and start drawing a procession of ideas for Valentine's Day cards I can't possibly finish in time for this year {It took forever for the ideas to flow, and now they wake me at 3 am like a drippy faucet}. And along with the heart mazes and avian queens and tic-tac-toe boards of crossed arrows comes the impulse to put on paper another idea I've been batting around in my head: Eve's Cup.

Confession: It's not really the beginning, exactly. Of course not. I mean, you don't really think The Amighty didn't ruminate awhile before beginning THE CREATION. Who knows, perhaps he even {gasp, heresy} tinkered around a bit and experimented before putting omnipotent paw to dust.

So the REAL beginning was several years ago when I drew the Devil's Cup, Cinderella's Cup and Marie Antoinette's Cup. And then the next beginning was when I dug through my archives and found the sketches and thought "You know, I really like these . . . ." and then decided to post them here on this blog, and then decided that they would make fabulously desirable notecards. But there were only three of them. And three's an odd number. It makes me uncomfortable. So I had to make more. Anne Bonny's Cup is already done, at the printer and awaiting birth in the flesh along with Satan's, Cinderella's and pauvre Marie's. And this here is the beginning of Eve's Cup.

D.I.Y. Paper Lanterns

2009-01-21T10:15:00.000-08:00

I learned how to fold a paper balloon in third grade, and was so entranced by how you could actually "blow it up" that I've remembered it to this day {and third grade was a loooooong time ago}. It wasn't until recently, though, that uses besides idle amusement came to mind. One recent idea was the invitation for a surprise birthday party this past December {the subject of a future post}.

The other is this string of paper lanterns. Years and years ago I saw, first in a Frederic Mechiche interior and then in yet another fabulous San Francisco boutique, a simple string of white paper boxes enclosing tiny lights, hung vertically from the ceiling to the floor. Simple and perfect. I craved them, but couldn't rationalize giving up either food or clothing to acquire them. And given the relationship of my salary to my rent, it would have been one or the other.

But this past September I came up with an idea that I liked even better. And it only took me ten years. While talking over an idea with a client, I folded up a balloon out of a newspaper page and was pleased with the result. It occurred to me that magazine pages had the right combination of resilience, thinness and gorgeous imagery, and I began to experiment. Folding magazine pages on the diagonal to create a square, I sank into a blissfully OCD state, folding one after another after another after another. I wanted to see what each beautiful page would actually look like once it was inflated. {Altoids and Ralph Lauren ads make great lanterns, by the way, as do some lingerie ads and pages with an interesting mix of text to image}. I tried to choose the most interesting, beautiful side for the exterior, and sometimes it was a hard choice. But I found when I slipped them over the tiny bulbs that you could see the images and text printed on both sides superimposed, glowing beautifully. I was so entranced that I lay awake the next few nights, eyes sodden with sleep, gazing blissfully at my beautiful string of lights and congratulating myself on my brilliance.

I do, of course, accept commissions to make these. But if you are crafty and want to make your own, you can watch a very useful little video on how to fold paper balloons here. Oh, and you might want to use the same publication for all the balloons, or else they might be different sizes.

Beauty Remains

2009-01-18T21:02:00.000-08:00

In the dead of winter, a decayed beauty remains: delicate, fragile, easily overlooked. The ghosts of drowned leaves rock gently beneath the water , frost-blighted camillias carpet a shallow pool, a tangle of leaf skeletons nest on the forest floor, lichen frills lace fallen logs.

Rhodonessa Caryophyllacea & the Pink-headed Harpy

2009-01-11T16:47:00.000-08:00

Rhodonessa Caryophyllacea is a pink-headed duck. This particular one {above} was painted by Bhawani Das in 18th c. Calcutta. It is found in BIRDS by Katrina Cook, a gorgeously illustrated, captivatingly written and beautifully designed elephant folio that I found most unjustly relegated to the remainders in Borders. Possibly extinct, {apparently, like the Loch Ness monster, there are rumors of sightings} the last confirmed sighting in the wild of this gorgoeus oddity was in 1926. Sadly, you will be unable to stock your pond with this lovely species.

Which makes it somewhat unlike its rather more prim and plain derivative, the pink-headed wimple-wearing monocled harpy. This particular specimen can be seen below and procured for your very own here, but has most likely never actually existed in 18th c. Calcutta or anywhere else outside of my odd imaginings.

Vacant Home Available

2009-01-06T19:18:00.001-08:00

. . . needs new roof

. . . nice neighborhood

. . . temporary tarp installed

. . . inquiries welcome

Redheaded Step Children

2009-01-05T21:49:00.001-08:00

I am utterly exhausted after spending waaaaaaaayyy too much time on a project where there has been a significant gap between my client's vision and my own. It happens . . . sometimes even with the best of clients. I may try to persuade them otherwise, but sometimes there isn't time for the back and forth, or they have a very fixed idea in mind and that's that. In that situation, I give the client what they want. It's a commissioned work. In the end, it is their project, their responsibility, their risk. If I want to do what I want to do, well, then, I can do my own project. And I think I will.

Because I love my sweet, rejected, redheaded stepchildren. I do, I do. And I think they will be the start of the theme for my 2010 calendar . . . Japanese Tea Gardens and Tea Ceremony.

New Year's resolutions 1 and 2

2009-01-02T12:49:00.000-08:00

I take a childlike pleasure in making New Year's resolutions . . . so bright, shiny, hopeful. I can't say I always keep them, but they are an excellent barometer of my current hopes and dreams, my goals and desires. If all goes as intended, my focus. And I think they are just plain fun.

So, here are Resolutions Number One and Two:

Number One: A serious relaunch of my languishing stationery line. I made just about every mistake possible (I'll spare you the tragic details and intrigue) when I tried to launch in May of 2005. But as the cost of digital printing has declined, as etsy has become ever more popular—oh, and let's count not getting on etsy sooner, given that I knew about it when it was launched as one of those mistakes—I can create and offer new items without spending money I, um, don't have. Also, since a dear friend has offered to take my cards around to shops, something I am peculiarly paralyzed by, I will hopefully be in some brick and mortar locations before long.

Number Two: Two new posts here every week . . . not easy for a perfectionist who feels that every entry should be an exquisitely crafted work of art. Spelling mistakes? Poor grammar? Dull, quotidian prose? Non, non, non. But there's not much point in having a blog if you don't post regularly, right? So perhaps I can learn to compromise a bit.

So, here are my efforts so far to meet resolutions Number One and Two: A new post. And two versions of a new birthday card. Anyone care to weigh in on a favorite? I'm leaning toward the one with the scattered party favors and cupcakes.

I'm so proud I think I'll have to go kiss myself.

Etsy 15 seconds of Fame

2008-12-23T12:19:00.000-08:00

What an honor to be included in Ashley's SHOP LOCAL: ATLANTA article for etsy! I am so excited! My photo and caption are below, and you can read the entire article here and visit my etsy shop here.

And also, I've been on a bit of a holiday creating-and-shipping-mania break, but I'll be back with more posts in the New Year, and much more regularly too! I promise. My New Year's resolution is to post twice a week.

Here I am, at Mooncake Clothing on a balmy December day!

Beauty inspires me, and Mooncake is full of beauty—stunning clothes, jewelry and accessories from independent designers. My aesthetic is very French-Asian, and Mooncake's refined, delicate whimsy delights me. And the neighborhood, Virginia Highlands, epitomize what allures me about Atlanta—the lush profusion of nature juxtaposed with beautiful old buildings. I grew up here, and the need to submerge myself in green is in my bones.

I dream of having a studio nearby, in a little strip of shops tucked along a residential block on Virginia Avenue. I would suspend my bed from the ceiling along with candlelit chandeliers, and invite you to visit me in my magical atelier.

Shameless Self Promotion

2008-12-02T09:08:00.000-08:00

You know you need some . . . xo!

Hearts

2008-11-13T15:13:00.000-08:00

. . . suit the season.

Fallen Angel

2008-11-11T20:04:00.001-08:00

A tree toppled, its Dryad is now the Lady of the Lake, her leafy crown turning from Summer's rich green into the opulent, fleeting splendor of Autumn.

Sweet Victory

2008-11-05T10:09:00.000-08:00

With hope in my heart, last night I made these cupcakes to take to a dear friend and client as we watched the election results.

I have been eligible to vote in many presidential elections, but this is the first time I was ever truly excited to vote for a candidate. The first time I thought my vote truly mattered. The first time I saw light on the horizon.

Sofia, you were right. This time, a nation has made the right choice. We, the People of the United States, with so much power to wield for good or ill, have given a gift of hope to ourselves as citizens of this nation and to us all as citizens of the world. May we indeed form a more perfect union, a true union of peace, understanding and respect for our earth, for our fellow creatures, for all mankind.

Victory is sweet indeed!

Shhh . . . it's a Secret!

2008-11-03T18:29:00.001-08:00

A secret package is now on its way . . . across the ocean to a very special someone. She is my swapee in Sofia's Autumn Swap exchange, and it has been my pleasure and delight to surreptitiously get to know her through her blog. She has NO IDEA who I am . . . yet. It is my hope that we will get to know each other and perhaps become friends in the years to come.

I am sure that I would have had much in common with so many of the participants, but there were some very unexpected and delightful similarities between us that bring a smile to my face every time I think of them. I will share as much as I dare. There are more fun coincidences, but it's too risky to say more. I don't mind if she wonders, but I don't want her to KNOW.

{1} Before I even knew who my swapee was, a particular book insistently came to mind, and I decided to send it if I thought there was any chance at all that she would like it. Imagine my surprise to find that the name of her blog and the title of the book had a key element in common! Needless to say, I sent the book.

{2} My swapee has lived in multiple, very specific places that I visit in my dreams, places I long to see in person one day. I have wondered if the places I have lived, the American South and San Francisco, are as exotic and alluring to her.

{3} Many years ago, when I was a graduate student, I was the research assistant for a biographer of one of her favorite authors.

So, what did I send? My package has, in many ways, been a d.i.y. project, with items handmade and/or quintessentially Autumnal to my part of the world, as I knew it would be going far, far away.

I imagine her reading her new book while eating maple cream cookies, chosen because there is hardly anything more deliciously autumnal in North America than maple syrup and flavoring. And to accompany those cookies are some varieties of tea which I took great pleasure in packaging up for her along with some exotic dried fruit:

The flower tea is especially wonderful, as it "blooms" when steeped:

To keep her cozy I included this scarf, knitted by one of my clients. In the center is a paper ring I made from Chinese ancestor money:

These beautiful matches, to light a candle so she can create a tranquil atmosphere:

Some cards in her favorite colors, and other tiny treasures that she is fond of (packaged here to keep from revealing too much):

I am a color person, and I paid especial attention (accurately, I hope) to her favorite colors in this wrapping tissue, tiny ornament and candy necklace:

And, when Autumn has passed into Winter, she will have this calendar (soon to be in my etsy shop) to remind her of participating in this exchange:

This little package will find its way to her in five to ten days . . . so, be patient, my new friend. I hope you enjoy receiving your secret surprise as much I enjoyed putting it together for you.

Trick or Treat

2008-10-29T10:48:00.000-07:00

For me, playing cards are alluring. The mysterious Aces. The Royal cards with their opaquely featured Kings, Queens and Jacks. The iconic imagery of Diamonds, Hearts, Clubs, Spades paired with numbers, so regular, so formulaic. It's like a code, a cypher . . . something to be studied, interpreted, a deeper meaning lurking beneath the apparent.

I collect unusual decks, and I've always wanted to create decks of my own. A few years ago, my photographer friend, Michael Winokur, made a suggestion that lead to inspiration—a deck of Halloween-themed playing cards, with the colors of the suits inverted, and no numbers for the various, only patterns of diamonds, hearts,spades,clubs.

Above are just a few cards from the suit of clubs . . . I believe the others are somewhere in my archives in San Francisco. The black Diamonds were defnitely the spookiest.

Gone to the Dogs

2008-10-21T14:38:00.001-07:00

October 25th is Dogtoberfest!

I am expecting a lot of families, fun, autumn weather, hot drinks, and of course dogs running around in all their costumed finery.

My friend Shannon recruited me to help out by designing the graphics for this fundraiser, and I agreed because 1) Shannon is a fabulous person and 2) I thought it would be an opportunity to do some really fun work that is really different from the style I'm usually associated with.

And it has been! I've designed two versions of a doggie crest logo, and another graphic for the tshirt (the first image in this post). I've done flyers, posters, ads, logos, yard signs . . . I've had a great time, which is good, because it has taken a LOT of time. In the process of all this, it occurred to me that I might as well go ahead and design a little line of doggie stationery.

So I'll be there on Saturday morning, debuting my new doggie holiday cards, party invitations and adoption announcements while meeting new people and painting the faces of little people. And soon I will have the cards available on my Etsy shop!

How much is enough?

2008-10-16T12:25:00.000-07:00

I'm a day late on this, but these thoughts I had last night . . .

I was not even thinking about the blog awareness day on poverty. I had just taken a walk up Stone Mountain, something I do a few times each week during the Autumn, bounding up the trail to the top around dusk, my effort rewarded by a panoramic view of a breathtaking rose and gold sunset. I know that mountain well, and it is a solace to walk up, to stretch at the top as I gaze at treetops and sky, and then to descend down the rock and between the trees in the fading light.

As I reached the bottom, I thought about many things, abut the earth, about resources, about plenty, about my homes, about my belongings which are scattered these days between Atlanta and San Francisco, about my books and where I would put them if I had them, about what I wanted and what I needed, about the economy, about people who have too much, about people who have too little. About how much is enough.

What is so wrong with saying, enough is enough? And when do we have enough? Why do so many of us need to hold onto so much, when others have so little? How many of us buy new cars and clothes and jewelry and trinkets and shoes and gadgets when we already have overflowing closets and basements and attics. Why not get rid of what we no longer want and no longer need and GIVE IT AWAY to someone who could use it. Give away those unused instruments, toys, clothes, furniture, hobby supplies, tools . . . Why not keep just those things we love and need and use? And why do we need to keep manufacturing more, more, more, some of it so ugly and wasteful, when resources are so precious?

My mother works with children. Many of these kids live in homes without furniture . . . they sleep on the floor . . . they don't have enough blankets or even coats in the winter. They have no money for school supplies. They barely have shoes or clothes. They don't get enough to eat. And they don't live in a third world country. They live in the United States. In a suburb of Atlanta. Sometimes I think about how much their lives could be enriched if people would just donate old clothes, mattresses, musical instruments.

I don't consider myself particularly radical. I'm certainly no Marxist; I have my own small business and desire financial wealth and independence. And only marginally could I be called a minimalist. I can't imagine having too many good books, for instance. I love beautiful clothing. I enjoy fine food. I have nothing against wealth and plenty. But I think that no matter how wealthy we are, greed and indifference are things we can not afford.

When is enough enough?

photo by andre.jenny.com

Coffee Break

2008-10-07T13:07:00.000-07:00

The AM coffee is my favorite ritual . . . make a deep, rich pot with my french press, pour vanilla soy milk into the creamer, take them both along with a beautiful cup to my desk and drink while perusing some of my favorite blogs. A thoroughly satisfying way to start the day.

Coffee has been a big part of my life. I've started my day with some variation of the coffee ritual for over 20 years. I had my first cappuccino on my first trip to Paris. I met My Architect in a coffee shop and formed a partnership that was part of my life for 7 years. My dear friend, The Novelist David Liss, wrote a delicious book about the coffee trade in Amsterdam. And I first saw My Ecologist in my very favorite coffee shop of all, Dr. Bombay's Underwater Tea Party.

And currently, a favorite project is graphics for a fundraiser at Park Grounds, a dog park and coffee shop.

The past few days, however, I've been taking a break from coffee. I miss the delicious flavor and that special something-something it adds to my morning read. But I must admit I'm sleeping better at night and no sleepier during the day.

So . . . coffee has been on my mind, and appropriately enough, while searching through my archives, I found these. Three sketches depicting the coffee cups of famous and infamous characters. I think I'll have to do something with them.

Automne

2008-10-01T08:26:00.001-07:00

There is a snap in the air here— it comes and goes—but Autumn has begun. Red is shading into the foliage in the woods around the lake. The sky is a richer blue. Dusk comes earlier. The evening air is chill against my bare arms. I wore the first sweater of the season a week ago. And at my Ecologist's home, acorns are falling, falling, falling, striking the wooden planks of his deck with sharp little intermittent cracks.

When Good Scanners Go Bad . . .

2008-09-18T14:32:00.000-07:00

And so you see one reason for the long time between posts . . . not yet possessing a camera (I crave and intend to purchase the SD850), I am dependent on scanning my non-digital creations and finds into the computer . . . which I haven't really been able to do this past month. When I try to scan, this crazy chroma results. It would appear that this time my trip Into the Woods was augmented with some recreational substances besides colored pencils. Not true, though. It's just a case of Bad Epson.

A Tiny Key . . .

2008-08-22T14:43:00.001-07:00

and an invitation to spend some time in a secret garden. Won't you come in?

Dryad in the Spring

2008-08-13T12:10:00.001-07:00

Another inhabitant of the Woods. Although it is high summer here in the South, it seems to me that this dryad dwells in an eternal spring. In her world, bluebirds are always nesting, leaves are always budding and the wind carries a soft promise that is always just slightly out of reach.

Into the Woods

2008-07-29T08:19:00.000-07:00

Since I've returned from Swan Cabin, all I seem to want to do is create artwork. At the moment, my idea of the perfect way to spend time is to sit outside at a cafe under an umbrella (and getting a table in this heat is easy, as most people wish to retreat to the controlled environment indoors). I don't have the luxury of doing this daily, but once or twice a week I go to Inman Perk on Highland Avenue or Dancing Goats in Decatur and draw. For hours, if I can.

And so here are the two newest denizens of my inner forest. I imagine creating about 20 of these, at this size, plus some larger works. Colored pencil on textured paper just seems right for these miniature drawings. The pigment catches in the grooves, suggesting the mossy forest floor and the bark of the trees. I have an impressive collection of colored pencils which have mostly been sitting on my desk in a large pottery cachepot. Now they are finally being used for their intended purpose.

A Few Fine QualiTEAS

2008-07-23T08:21:00.000-07:00

Years ago, a rather short-lived boutique in San Francisco had the most wonderful business card—a small, square tea bag packaged in a tiny envelope printed in the sort of saturated colors one finds in authentic Chinese graphics. I craved that tiny piece of art, which thankfully I could obtain as it was free, unlike the fabulous platform shoes and clothing that I also craved but couldn't afford.

I displayed that tea bag for months, maybe even a couple of years. Something about its sweet, tiny perfection just delighted me. I was enchanted, and the idea of creating tea bags of my own began to capture my imagination.

I don't remember how, exactly, the idea of creating the Qualiteas as a self promotion came about, but I worked on them for quite awhile. Once, a friend and I were eating at a little restaurant in North Beach, arranging and rearranging the tea bags to find the most pleasing combination of colors, when a waitress asked us if we were playing some sort of game, perhaps of an occult or divinatory nature. I loved the idea of these little packets as some sort of key to a hermetic mystery that would be revealed when properly arranged.

And there was a magic to just the right arrangement. Some of my first tea bag designs were perfectly balanced on their own, but overwhelmed the eye when grouped together.

I found I needed just the right amount of illustration. Just the right palette of colors. And, of course, I had to select just the right Qualiteas.

I rarely send these out. Too labor intensive, as I have to cut, fold, glue and fasten each piece by hand, individually stuffing each tiny envelope with an Earl Grey or Mango tea bag, individually arranging each tea bag in the outer envelope that must be cut, folded and fastened.

But even several years after I first created them, my Qualiteas still delight me, and I have them displayed where I can see them everyday.

And I still fantasize about what new Qualiteas I could create, perhaps:

Levitea
Longevitea
Reliabilitea
Felicitea
Raritea
Serenitea
Generositea
Antiquitea
Noveltea
Sensitivitea

and, a few private Specialteas, such as:

Sensualitea & Sexualitea

So . . . . what are YOUR Qualiteas?

Swan Cabin, Nantahala National Forest

2008-07-10T15:50:00.000-07:00

Deep in the woods of the Nantahala Forest is a settler's cabin, beautiful and primitive. It is a different world there, with a heavy, peaceful quiet broken only by birdcalls, bumblebees and thunderstorms. Every shade of green rests the eye, and there is something ineffably sweet and timeless about the lawn, shaded by seven hundred year old oaks, gently rolling down to a log fence that hedges the tiny patch of cultivation against the forest.

There is nothing to "do" there . . there is only time, time to sit on the front porch and gaze across that tiny patch of cultivation and into the wildness beyond. And for the most part, that was all I wanted, to sit in the shade and slowly sketch the afternoon away, contemplating the fantasies shaping themselves beneath my pencils.

Above: Forest Sprite and Woodland Faun.
Below: Indian Maiden and The Night Huntsman.

Credits: photo of swan cabin by nate-dawg: http://flickr.com/photos/nate_dawg/

Your Presence is Requested at the GASTROPOD BALL

2008-07-01T15:59:00.001-07:00

In my library in San Francisco, I have a little vintage book, maybe 4 x 5, a guide to the Shells of the World. Just a simple field guide, with illustrations of all sorts of shells from all over the world, along with their wonderfully evocative names. On one of my periodic intentions to do a sketch a day, I opened up this tiny book and suddenly I could see them, the attendees of the Gastropod Ball.

I've begun some of their portraits. I imagine them as a fantastic collection, framed individually on my wall one day. And of course I still see them, all together, floating in a wonderful coral and mother of pearl ballroom beneath the sea.

The delicate Japanese beauty, Precious Wentletrap, perhaps the bride of a British Naval Officer.

Restless, rather languid, Strawberry Top with her flaming hair and pinky-red shell. Her brother is the dashing Lt. Cunningham Top.

Radula Cerith, of mixed English and French descent most likely. Ophelia Nutmeg, a prim and slightly eccentric English Rose.

And the Chinese Emperor, Northern Moon.