Julia Likes Frogs

Alice Coltrane makes the harp cool

2012-01-03T12:54:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year! And happy new viewing/listening recommendations...

I have to admit that the harp makes me nervous, in that it's too often twee and ethereal, and I don't really think Lucy needs either of those qualities, having both in excess already. But then my friend Anurag pointed us to Alice Coltrane. Lucy sat and watched the entire nine minute jazz solo on the harp. She seemed to get it.

And on other topics, I am feeling acquisitive. I want this painting of a girl with red, and this painting of a woman and a white wolf. Silly, since, I already have so many paintings lying around the house...

Writing and rewriting

2011-12-31T00:16:00.002-05:00

I have been reading a lot of author interviews the last few days, looking for the fuel to build a new story out of a (month) old one. Three writers have been the most interesting: Ursula K. LeGuin, Patricia McKillip, and Mary Pope Osborne. The last of these is really touching--

I had a child come up once in a group of children — he sort of stood off to the side — and finally he leaned over and whispered in my ear and said, "Mrs. Osborne, you may not realize this, but I'm an author, too."

Ursula K LeGuin is immensely refreshing, with the authentic practicality she shares about life as a writer. She talks about having raised children, and the hard work needed to write. McKillip, for her part, describes creating towers of spiral bound notebooks, because she still writes everything out by hand.

Cheetahs and Zombies

2011-12-19T22:06:00.001-05:00

I must recommend Emile's favorite ASL music videos: Jonathan Coulton's RE: Your Brains and Portal, Still Alive.

Now on to something more serious: cheetah sketches. Which one is more alive?

Halloween, Harvest, Harps, and other H's

2011-12-13T20:27:00.000-05:00

After a semester of statistics, I find myself about to be crushed by a backlog of fabulous kid photos. Here are a few of them. And some tomatoes.

The end of NaNoWriMo

2011-12-01T14:31:00.001-05:00

In this last month of hasty writing, I learned that 2k words per day leaves no time for studying statistics. I also learned that I know nothing about character and plot development.

And, by accident, I learned that there is something called "fanfic," and that is is peopled by Mary Sues. They both sound like something I want nothing to do with but by which I am completely fascinated. A Mary Sue is a kind of superhero, written as an alter ego of the author, but in an already created science fiction world. So a writer rights her most bad ass self into her favorite shows or books. I love this idea. No desire to read it, but the thought is riveting. I spent a while wallowing in this weird world, instead of writing or studying. Can't even call it research.

Less riveting is the novella I completed. I finished about 10k short of the 50k goal. Now to make it readable...

November's list

2011-11-08T12:03:00.000-05:00

1. Baby obstruction is as effective as baby proofing, in things like rubber bands holding cupboard handles together.

2. Probability and Statistics can be an interesting thing to study, but does not leave much time for anything else.

3. Mole rats live in massive colonies, like ants, and all have almost identical DNA, as well as a queen/breeder.

4. Much of maintaining good sibling relationships has to do with concealment of evidence.

5. Fleischer Brothers animated films are way more bizarre than anything contemporary I've seen.

6. Pregnant teens who dropped out of high school in the 70s could not get their GED before they were twenty.

7. A collection of starlings is called a murmuration, as shown in this lovely video example.

8. My favorite Tom Waits quote about having kids from an interview with Terry Gross: "You [don't have to parent like everyone else.] You can roll your own."

Poems that made me cry

2011-10-21T14:24:00.000-04:00

I listened to Terry Gross' interview with Marie Howe, and I can't get over it. "...every poem has that silence deep in the center..." - Marie Howe

Lucy is very determined to play the harp, in spite of all of Laurent and my subtle (hopefully) attempts to expose it's awkwardness, and the benefits of its competitors. Then I remembered Joanna Newsom, with her crazed voice and the honesty and lack of preciousness with which she treats her cloying instrument. I have hope.

Still animating, though slightly snowed under with probability...

2011-10-17T22:49:00.002-04:00

Random variables, predifferentiation, and nPr's without Terry Gross...
I need to deal with something a little more tangible for a while, so

I'm taking a little break to do some animation. Which looks better, fish one, or fish two?

The Germs

2011-09-23T21:00:00.000-04:00

The whole house is under bicrobial (or viral?) siege. Lucy is just starting to ask about playdates again, while the last of us, Laurent, falls. I am pulling a page from Amy Chua's book, though, and temporarily disavowing all playdates. It feels liberating.

The photos are from our visit to Brimfield, Massachusetts last weekend, to go apple picking with our friends Camille and Owen. After an impish photo shoot, courtesy of Camille, we noticed that all of the leaves to Lucy's left were actually poison ivy... After a serious scrub down, we seemed to have escaped.

Women and Infants

2011-09-16T23:16:00.001-04:00

A little blipblurp of animation I made, showing a nursing mother and newborn baby.

Grit

2011-09-15T10:51:00.004-04:00

I'm reading Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of a Tiger Mother. I can't put it down. It probably says something grim about my personality that I find her way-over-the-top strictness with her two daughters completely hilarious.
At the same time, I just read the NYTimes article on character and success in, and after, school, called "What If the Secret to Success is Failure?" Now I have a 24 point questionnaire for Lucy and Emile to evaluate my success as a parent.

Brains to gold?

2011-09-14T10:24:00.004-04:00

A couple of photos of the little people. Emile is in his natural habitat, and Lucy in hers.

School is treating Lucy well, I think. She isn't talking about it much, which, with loquacious Lucy, is unusual. But she seems happy, and doesn't usually hesitate to let us know when something doesn't suit her ("Maman, I don't like the way he laughed.")

For me, on the other hand, school is a challenge. There are two people in the class, aside from the professor, who follow perfectly everything that is going on, and make corrections in real time. I am not one of those two people. This makes me a little nervous, but I do enjoy playing with math again, even if I don't always get it.

I'm working on adding color to the music animation that I made. Made the straw gold. Next comes the goldfish.

Yellow Duck

2011-09-07T12:13:00.006-04:00

Summer is over, and Lucy is back in school. I miss her wild little self while she is away.

In the field of childhood, a lot of things don't make sense. For example, I have never seen a yellow duck, outside illustrations and children's toys. Eric Carle and Bill Martin's book is riveting for Emile, but it is not heavy on reality. Ducks are yellow, horses are blue, cats are purple. But then, how could that be worse for him than our having a black cat named Yellow? I suspect that learning his colors is going to take a while, especially as it is all confounded by hallucinogenic board books.

So, I am loosely planning for the writers month. On the site, they qualify that outlines are allowed:

Outlines and plot notes are very much encouraged, and can be started months ahead of the actual novel-writing adventure. Previously written prose, though, is punishable by death.

Maybe I will do that... But I have a math class that I will go and sample this afternoon, Introduction to Probability, at Rhode Island College, so we will see how much time I actually have.

Electricity!!!

2011-08-31T15:15:00.002-04:00

Finally! Now to get my painting back from the shipping company, so I can send it good old US Post...

Southerners must be laughing...

2011-08-26T23:43:00.004-04:00

We in Rhode Island are all about raiding Whole Foods in desperation for hurricane supplies. Heck, Laurent and I even cleaned up the garden a bit to minimize on the flying debris. He did more of the cleaning up outside, I will admit. Aside from the gutters, which I insisted on doing because I have fun being up on the roof.

I figured out that, if I want to do the NaNoWriMo, I need to write 3 pages per day in order to get to 50,000 words. So, do I go wild with that, or follow a structure? Both are tempting.

I just packed up one of my paintings to fly across the country to Corvalis, Oregon, for a show on mathematics in art, called Calculated Result - Mathematics in Art. A way cool show.

NoMo what?

2011-08-23T00:08:00.003-04:00

Several years ago I heard about National Novel Writing Month, while listening to kqed in Oakland, California. I was busy finishing my MFA, or maybe I was already dealing with a demanding baby person, but I vowed that I would do it, 50,000 words in 30 days, someday. I think this might be the someday. I'm thinking of going ultra cheesey: romance. Hah! I am the least romantic person I know. I can't wait. I once dared to criticize my mother for writing romance novels (which she never published, probably through want of trying) saying she should write what she knew. She had the grace to think this was funny, coming from her adolescent daughter.

The NaNoWriMo fits right in with the theme of this month: confusion. I have to admit that I am going through a midlife crisis. I say a and not the, because it isn't my first, and probably not my last. Emile is toddling, and I feel a parallel need to explore, and solidify.

Should I

continue exploring my artwork, even though I am terrified of even the most harmless and kind gallery managers?
go back to school to study the teaching of mathematics, with the goal of mixing art and math in adult remedial education? Harvard Extension School and UC Berkeley both have interesting programs that might work. Smith College has a well funded post bacc that gives grants to the students, as well.
continue teaching English as a Second Language?
go into translation?
write romance novels?

You see how things are. Alas.

Anyway, please join me in the November fun of writing absolute novel-lengthed crap.

The usual slow reentry

2011-08-16T12:10:00.004-04:00

Above is one of Lucy's cloud photos, which she took in the car on the way to a children's meditation class at Boston's Shambhala center. Appropriate, right?

Below is one of the few photos I took of our trip. I will have to raid the supply of family numbers to get more. The weather was blissfully mild in Cannes and the Alps, and even cold enough for a sweater in Paris. I can handle a summer like that.

I'm working on spicing up the animation for my friend Camille's song, but my Dell, which had pulled a temporary Lazarus before (although I guess it was temporary even for Lazarus himself) is now beyond the grave, and so I'm still working out the wrinkles in the animation process. Simple scans to video is not working out as easily as it did before, so I'm trying to figure that problem out.

The enneagram has came back onto my plate, as friends around me try to figure out where they fit in that system. My sister's assertion that I am a nine, not a five, has been gaining some credence as I compare my self view with reality.

Key Motivations: Want to create harmony in their environment, to avoid conflicts and tension, to preserve things as they are, to resist whatever would upset or disturb them. (from http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/ )

Apparently, many nines like to believe they are fives. How unflattering for nines!

Lucy took this photo the night we left my sister's place in Brooklyn to come back home.

Before the trip

2011-07-09T21:57:00.004-04:00

We are going to France this summer, and Laurent is spending every minute he can insuring that his plants will not go thirsty while we are gone. The raspberries were showing off for us before our departure, producing more in this first harvest than we got the first two years combined.

Émile, like Lucy, is apprenticing in dirt displacement.

Progress by the milliseconds

2011-07-07T18:17:00.004-04:00

Summer in Rhode Island is pretty wonderful. It's hot, but not unbearable, and Laurent's garden is extremely bountiful this year. We swim in the neighbor's pool, then spend the rest of the evening eating the blueberries and raspberries, red and black, and snap peas and green beans...

I am finally nearing the end of the animation I am working on for my friend, Camille Collins Lovell, to accompany one of the songs she recently recorded. It is an experiment, and I am enjoying it. I'm still learning about creating animations that are instigated by sound, and have not perfected the art. I'm layering cutouts on cutouts. My friend Ean suggested that the fish need to change their behavior and size from time to time, so that is the next thing I'm working on.

Please let me know if you have any thoughts!

What Can I Say, version 5 from Julia Gandrud on Vimeo.

Gracefully crabby

2011-07-01T10:50:00.003-04:00

MySelvagedLife has curated a treasury that I want to linger on. It features my little horseshoe crab painting, and several other aquatic honeys that deceive me into thinking that the ocean is still a pristine and wild place place. I particularly like the decal crab.

Feeding the large, blue, fuzzy cat with the pititful eyes

2011-06-29T10:14:00.003-04:00

I'm reading Feeding Your Demons, by Tsultrim Allione. It's about a beautiful Chöd practice of loving your difficulties in a selfless way, and taming them with generosity.

First, you envision your demon before you. This is the part I especially like. Then you are supposed to turn your body into whatever the demon needs, until it disappears. I like this part, too, but then the demon is no longer available to model for me, and I have to wait for the next one...

Koi

2011-06-23T14:33:00.002-04:00

I made the koi, I like the koi, but I am not sure about them in this context, with this kind of hand drawn animation overlapping the cut out animation.
Any thoughts?

What Can I Say (goofing around version 2) from Julia Gandrud on Vimeo.

So slow...

2011-06-18T12:16:00.004-04:00

Working on animations can be very satisfying, in that I get to make many many drawings every day, but it can still feel like I am not getting anything done...
Right now I am working on making a video to go with my friend Camille's song, "What Can I Say." I'm not sure about my approach, but it's still play at this point.

I forgot to put up this lovely image of Laurent with Émile on Chris and Anne's boat. It really was lovely to see them like this.

What Can I Say (goofing around version) from Julia Gandrud on Vimeo.

Sweet politics

2011-06-13T16:33:00.005-04:00

I've just been reading (on wikipedia, my favorite website, and this other random website) the fascinating and political history of stevia, the sweet leaf plant. Used for centuries, then banned by unknown people for unknown reasons with easily divined motivations... and then approved just as the Cargill and Coca-Cola companies are ready to introduce a new stevia based sweetener...A sugar substitute thriller. Do you suppose there were any gadget-y spies?

Definitely academy award material.

Emotional Illiteracy

2011-06-10T11:17:00.004-04:00

Reading Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child, by John Gottman, and thinking, "So that's why Lucy can't calm herself down after getting angry or sad... it's because of her idiot parents!

And speaking of emotional parenting mistakes, Laurent and I watched Kick Ass last night. I loved every minute of it. At least we aren't training Lucy to be an assassin...

If you are looking for more entertainment, I can't recommend the new Masterpiece Theatre's Sherlock highly enough. Humorous and well acted, with gorgeous anachronisms that stream back to Sir A. C. Doyle's time, gracefully overlayed with ultra contemporary technology.

Froggie went a crossing

2011-06-03T20:56:00.003-04:00

When in doubt about what comes next, paint a frog, that's what I always say... If doubt persists, paint two.

And voila, proof that Lucy knows her way around two wheels.

Death of a Dell

2011-06-01T11:20:00.002-04:00

My dear little old Dell Latitude is dead. It's like losing the use of my right hand...

My sister forwarded me an encouraging article on bilingualism, from the NYTimes. I am happy that our bicultural experiment has big fringe benefits!

Lucy's got wheels

2011-05-31T21:03:00.005-04:00

We spent a beautiful Memorial Day sailing on the boat belonging to our friends Chris and Anne. Chris took the beautiful picture of Émile, looking particularly sailorly, and me.

Lucy can start, go, and even stop on a two wheeler all by herself. She accomplished this a whole year before I did as a child, and I am incredibly impressed be her coordination, bravery, and determination. I can't wait to go on bike trips with her.

A friend, Jessica Gidal, sent me a link to this very beautiful animation music video, directed by Lucinda Schreiber and Yanni Kronenberg.

Firekites - AUTUMN STORY - chalk animation from Lucinda Schreiber on Vimeo.

Trying to work, distracted by admiration

2011-05-25T12:44:00.002-04:00

I am trying to settle on a new project, or an old one, after my exciting weekend. Here are two artists I enjoyed while my muse looked for her ritalin:

The ever lovely Caroline Leaf:

and an artist who is new to me: Lydia Greer, in San Francisco. I am especially excited about these shadow films.

24 hours of animation, 18 hours of struggling to get it into the right codec...

2011-05-23T11:16:00.002-04:00

What I discovered is that, even though they gave the theme only at the start of the 24 hours, there were more things I could have done to prepare. On the technical side, get the right software and the right cables ahead of time. On the artistic side, create the characters ahead of time, and give a few trial runs of the technique to be used.
Overall, this was really good fun. A million thank yous to Laurent, who took the kids to the zoo, into the garden, for naps...

24 Hour Animation

2011-05-21T09:23:00.005-04:00

I am pretending I am not a mother of two children, and giving in to 24 hours of (slightly stressful) play. An association in Belgium, Zorobabel (some sort of figure from the old testament, rebuilt the temple--I'm not sure what the significance is) is doing a 24 hour animation marathon.

It started an hour and 25 minutes ago. The theme is John Locke's question about honor among thieves. Loosely. I naturally thought of 6 year olds.

I am waiting for my laptop to open a bunch of files.

Tick, tick, tick...The above is one of Lucy's wonderful writings. I will leave you to decipher, as it's not to far from commonly accepted spellings.

Oughter

2011-05-18T17:40:00.006-04:00

When my painting teacher in my first year class made my friend, Claire Redmon McConnell, redo her portrait of an apple it was because she said the representation was larger than life sized, and no one wanted to look at objects larger than life sized. At the time my teacher, Martha Armstrong, said this, I thought it was arbitrary crankiness. I now realize that, while clearly an overstatement, there is some hint of sense. I still can't explain it, but I find that, in general, and soup cans aside, outsized representations of things, people, tend to fall on the bad side of my irrational aesthetic score card.

All of which is to say that I finked out, and the 24 by 48 inch otter has shrunk to 5 by 8 inches. I still don't know what I am going to put on that big canvas.

It really is a leap to go from rather small to rather large. And, as my friend Nick Kilmer cautioned, not always necessary. But I have this big canvas that I've carried around for ten years, and I feel I ought to use it. I feel like a coward for not using it.

But maybe I won't paint a really large mouse on it.

Time

2011-05-17T14:08:00.003-04:00

I'm going through a really dry spot, time wise. Ten minute naps are just a touch frustrating.
I'm waiting for the paint to dry so that I can do another coat.
I found a very young artist with prints, drawings, and animations, whose work I really enjoyed (particularly the prints): Kathryn Marshall.
Graphic but painterly monoprints--perfect combination.

My friend Jinny introduced me to the art of Morris Graves and now I am looking for more. I'm feeling more inspired to move into a more symbiotic relationship with the paint and brush, less purely hierarchical (with me on top.) I have no control anywhere else, why cling to it in art? Oh, wait....

Émile the otter

2011-05-12T10:17:00.000-04:00

I'm working on a new painting for Émile. This is the sketch.

2011-05-10T09:58:00.000-04:00

Happy Mother's Day Flower

2011-05-04T12:29:00.003-04:00

A rhinoceros can ferment food in it's stomach. Stampeding while intoxicated?

Other people like frogs, too

2011-05-04T10:53:00.005-04:00

The Frogs... How could I not love this treasury? Curated by Universal Arts, and featuring my frog princess.

Can Milarepa be in my painting?

2011-04-28T21:09:00.005-04:00

Like many others, I too am inspired by Milarepa (1052-1135). How could anyone not be inspired by him? A one time mass murderer who changes, and reaches enlightenment in one lifetime? Wow. The patron saint of imperfect parents.

Do you think it's hubris to use a Tangka in one of my own paintings?

Hasten slowly and ye shall soon arrive - Milarepa

Sakura

2011-04-26T10:19:00.001-04:00

Lucy and Émile have been enjoying the cherry tree, now that it's finally in full bloom. I keep hearing the Japanese song, Sakura, as I see the petals dusting our patio
(lyrics from wikipedia)

sakura sakura

noyama mo sato mo

mi-watasu kagiri

kasumi ka kumo ka

asahi ni niou

sakura sakura

hanazakari

Lucy's dress was her birthday gift from her parents, who compromised on princess dresses by buying from a seamstress on Etsy, Lover Dovers Clothing.

A few days ago I listened to the Terry Gross interview with the artist John Sarkin, who only became a professional artist after a stroke engendered his obsessive and continual need to create. Maybe I had a stroke at birth.

"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." ~Albert Einstein

What we want from each other, what we want for each other

2011-04-23T23:04:00.004-04:00

(Photo by my friend, Chris Nuzum)

I'm reading about homeschooling and unschooling. Homeschooling seems very well supported in California, but there is very little here in Rhode Island. No charter schools that have homeschooling as it's goal, no outreach from local public schools. A lot of catholics and other christians.

This has been a monumentally difficult week for Lucy and her parents. Émile is teething, and Laurent and I are very sleep deprived. And Lucy is being silly, not listening, having breakdowns from stress and lack of sleep. Ugh! She has told me that she wishes I was more like her friends' mom, quicker and laughing more; I, in turn, have yelled every time she doesn't listen to me. Lovely.

So I was really struck by these quotes from Sandra Dodd, an advocate for the unschooling movement (about which I am generally feeling uncertain):

Neediness expresses itself differently with different kids. Abundance expresses itself similarly in all.
Neediness creates various interpersonal problems, health difficulties, psychological stress and sorrow. Chronic neediness becomes a vacuum that cannot be filled.

This led me to think about Lucy and abundance. Our expectations of her are causing anxiety, and need for more love. What is the kindest way to love her now? Enforced bedtimes? No need for bath? Screw dinner, let's go for a pizza? Let schedules go?

Hedgehog food for my sister's birthday

2011-04-18T16:06:00.005-04:00

I made a companion for the hedgehog painting I'd given my sister a few years back. I hope they get along. Wikipedia cites snakes as hedgepig food, though...

Sooty orange

2011-04-17T22:01:00.004-04:00

I appreciate the cleverness of curators of Etsy treasuries. Sooty Orange, curated by totallylegalpot (I love the name) is based on a quirky love, and evocative description, of a color combination. Yep, that's my hippo, standing proud among the sooty crowd.

And...it's a sitting run!

This is the second weekend in a row that I have made it to going to do a little meditation. Conclusion after round two? Man, this is REALLY boring. The most interesting thing about it is the endless ways in which it is boring. And how mundane, not mind blowing and trippy, it is to sit there and watch my breath. And how often I get uptight about my own failures to put my attention on my breath. But some part of me still thinks it's worthwhile to train my awareness to be able to stay put on the object I choose, and not flit around like a flour moth after my cookies. Obviously, I am not really dedicated enough to this, or I would actually be doing it. "There is no try, only do." Is that 70s wisdom, or just transcendental trash talk?

Don't worry, mind, you won't be going next weekend. One of the tortured religions has stuff going on next Sunday.

Crawling meditation

2011-04-13T11:00:00.007-04:00

I made it to the beautiful Providence Shambhala Center to meditate this weekend, and it felt like a vacation. I find meditation difficult, and I am usually unsuccessful, but being able to sit without interruption for 20 minutes at a time felt extremely luxurious.

My sister sent me a link to this wonderful story about the nature of mind, told by a Los Angeles actor who ended up on a road trip with a Tibetan monk (sounds very 60s, doesn't it?), and now I have gone into online dharma mode. I started listening to teachers on youtube. Thich Nhat Hanh has a very entertaining metaphor for interdependence and ego.

And now I am researching whether crawling is really a necessary milestone for babies. Émile will resort to an army crawl, but really prefers walking to any other mode of transportation. We have been told that crawling is necessary for the motor development of the child, and that a child who never crawls is in for difficulty later. In general, the articles (one, two, versus three, four) are split over this. A lot of the gainsayers are basing their objections on a group of children in Papua, New Guinea. Physical differences exist between peoples, though, so I am not sure that one group proves that crawling is not necessary for the rest of humanity (which is also an argument against the absolute necessity of crawling.) The assertion, however, is that babies in the past were not put down, to avoid being burnt or eaten.
On the other hand are the pro-crawlers, basing their argument on anecdotal evidence, and I didn't see any thorough study on crawling's effect on speech and coordination. Let me know if you have better evidence!

Today I'm in the mood for octopus

2011-04-09T20:14:00.002-04:00

Octopuses are intelligent, in that they can solve mazes, and open medicine bottles, and have better memories than many of us, and yet they have shorter lifespans than mice. And that's just a small fraction of their weirdness. Moving eight legs individually, having independently functioning suckers, near human eyes, no bones or shells, and the ability to travel short distances over land... The weirdness continues. And so they are creatures that haunt our psychic story land. Unlike unicorns and dragons, these monsters are real, and beautiful, and ugly, and so very fascinating.

And taste good. Especially in okonomiyaki.

Imagine your hands were octopuses, typing emails to friends.

Living for Facts

2011-03-29T21:49:00.008-04:00

Laurent wanted to be sure that everyone knows that the above photos were taken on the weekend. Done.

And here's Émile looking cute, just before losing his lunch.

My mind is finally affected by Lucy's big questions (usually posed at night, just after mama has turned out the light, and is about to close the door.) I found myself wondering:

How big is the universe?
How many stars are there in the universe?
Is there an infinite number of facts?

If you are like me, then you want to know the answers. Luckily, a lot of people wonder these things (except possibly the last?)

The universe is estimated to be 150 billion light years in size, and rapidly expanding. Wheeeeeeee!
There may be at least 70 sextillion stars in the sky, but we can't know for sure at this point. 70 sextillion is 7 followed by 22 zeros. Smaller than one googol, which, as any five year old (at least the ones in this house) can tell you, is 1 followed by 100 zeros. An interesting side note is that this number was named by a ten year old... They also like to talk about "googolplex", which is ten to the googol, but I hesitate expounding exponents for kindergartners.
And the last question? Clearly, the answer is "yes", or what would we have to live for?

And, finally, the wild kingdom had a photo shoot.

The fantastic new yoga for kids

2011-03-27T23:39:00.003-04:00

I don't often see an adult have as much fun goofing around with a bunch of little kids as I saw Lucy's yoga teacher having.

Lots of people enjoy being around children, but the teacher and owner of Om Kids Yoga Studio makes it clear that she's awake to the imaginative play and physical inspiration of kids in a totally joyful, genuine way. Yay! It does my heart good to see someone love and believe in their work that much.

Oh, tsunami...

2011-03-23T11:55:00.003-04:00

Thinking about Osaka, and all the people I know, and have known, from my time in Japan. It is not anything like the Hokusai painting.

For me, there is too much emotion, and it is spilling out in odd ways-- laughing to loud, feeling distracted, sad, tears in the eyes. I'm trying to find a good aid organization that we, with other people from Lucy's school, can contribute to.
Save the Children seems good.

Testing 123...

2011-03-13T10:05:00.002-04:00

I finally clipped my nails, and got an animation test together. The animation is a rotoscoped painting of a composited image (put together using photoshop, then stuck a sheet of transparent film to the screen, and painted on it with acrylics.)

It's way too jumpy right now, so I think I'll have to simplify, and work in more layers.

Does it look to you like the paint is just a photoshop trick?

Brooding

2011-03-09T10:44:00.004-05:00

Trips always tip me off my studio axis. The nail clippers aren't in the right spot.

It's been two weeks since we got back, and the most I've accomplished is a bit of intensive reflection about a project I have not yet started. Perhaps today I'll have both wits and time to begin. Otherwise, it's another day of kissing the baby.

I found an illustrator on etsy, Elsita, with work that speaks elegant truth with a delicate, forceful voice. I particularly like this illustration:

Butterflies in the sky

2011-03-06T12:23:00.006-05:00

Now I have the theme song for the canceled children's show, "The Reading Rainbow," in my head...

This treasury, curated by Quilts by Paula, is a testament to the popularity of blue morpho butterflies.

I particularly love the edible cake decorations. I think I'll have to order some for Lucy's birthday.

Back from France, so much catching up to do

2011-03-02T20:58:00.003-05:00

While in France, my father-in-law and I debated the mathematical usefulness of the concept of a number greater than infinity. Actually, he thought is was irrelevant, and I just thought it was cool. Not much of a debate, really.

Now, however, I have found a use for the concept: I used to have an infinite number of projects I wanted to work on, but now, post child number two, and post trip to France, I officially have ω+1 projects to finish. Is the completion really less possible than it was before?

Yes, this is a little flippant.

Meanwhile, a couple of videos of milestones for Lucy and Émile:

Lucy encounters a ski pole at the end of her first successful solo run, and Émile steals my pancake.

P.J.Harvey Wins My Heart

2011-02-07T20:45:00.002-05:00

For a stunning album, courtesy of NPR:

Yoga in the woods

2011-02-01T10:32:00.003-05:00

I've finished work on my five yoga critters! The photos are imperfect, so I will have to take them again, though.

Amphibians and their flighty friends

2011-01-29T20:35:00.005-05:00

Who doesn't love bees? Hmm. Aside from my sister in law, who is massively allergic to them. And other people who are afraid of being stung. But otherwise, aren't they lovely? Etsy seller KandiceInWonderland introduced a treasury, Bee! I'm Expecting You, including the animals from this Emily Dickinson poem:

Bee! I'm expecting you!
Was saying Yesterday
To Somebody you know
That you were due—

The Frogs got Home last Week—
Are settled, and at work—
Birds, mostly back—
The Clover warm and thick—

You'll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me—
Yours, Fly.
-Emily Dickinson 1830-1886

My little frog painting is among the amphibian representatives.

The Dickinson poem reminds me of the wonderful stories I recently read with Lucy: The Squirrel's Birthday and Other Parties, by Toon Tellegan. A delightful collection for adults and children, similar to Winnie the Pooh in its prosaic but poignant revelations about small things.

Hello Honey Honey

2011-01-24T20:05:00.004-05:00

For Christmas Lucy had asked for an American Girl Doll, but I told her that would be over my dead body, which she agreed to, but I had second thoughts... Anyway, after a long search for an alternative, she chose a doll from Hello Honey Honey, on Etsy. Émile is a huge fan of this doll.

I love the idea of factoring composite numbers into their component monsters. I'm not sure if children will agree about its intuitiveness, but I am thinking of getting You Can Count On Monsters for Lucy, after hearing about it on NPR.

I really have enjoyed listening to The King Is Dead, by the Decemberists, brought to me by NPR. I loved Shankhill Butchers off of the 2006 album, Crane Wife, with its nursery rhyme malevolence. This new album is much lighter, but very good. I have the tunes humming round my head all day. Especially January Hymn.

I have started reading The Dancing Wu Li Masters, by Gary Zukov. I have two categories of books I enjoy reading these days: inconsequential fantasy, or dry. Dry anything, but I particularly love reading about mind bending physics, and quantum mechanics fits the bill. I like it that I can try to understand it, but I will fail. Like Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, comprehension isn't the point. It leaves my thinking mind with the same newly washed feeling that meditation gives my emotional and aware mind.

I have a fantasy life where I am a mathematician. When I was little, the dream was that I was a physicist, but then I realized that math was more fun actually to do. In my pursuit of understanding, I read Einstein's Relativity: The Special and the General Theory. I so desperately wanted to be smart enough to understand it, but, well.

Maybe I will follow up The Dancing Wu Li Masters with a Dan Brown book. Then I'll feel smart. For now. Until I try to write something like that...

On Gender

2011-01-16T16:08:00.003-05:00

I listened to Claire Dederer on OnPoint, and feel like I recognize her story of growing up in the 70's with a mother who felt trapped by motherhood, unable to find herself, to be free. My mother's answer was to meet a new man, dance and drink all night, and forget about her daughters, until the day, a decade later, that she had a religious revelation. Dederer's mother sounds a little less troubled, but her mother's new man was named Larry, just like my mother's...

And, after listening to the interview with Cordelia Fine, Laurent and I discussed an old chestnut, whether or not there are hard wired sex differences in the brain, taking chess achievement as an example. But then, it only takes a minute on the internet to refute the idea that men and women are very different there: Judit Polgár was chess Grand Master at a younger age than either Kasparov or Bobby Fischer, and chess people tend to care about such things as "how young was x when amazing achievement z occurred"... Point being, time puts more and more of those old biases to rest, so, um, like, shouldn't we trust time to do away with the rest of them, too?

I notice that I treat Émile a little differently than I treated Lucy as a baby. I think I treated her more like a flower--hard to explain, but I think I projected the girl and woman I thought she would be, and I am similarly projecting a, this time completely nebulous, but masculine, future on Émile. It's very illuminating to a die hard feminist like myself to confront my own gender expectations. Who cares if she wears fairy dresses? Who cares if he does? Either way, I'd rather that my expectations don't limit them.

Lucy's writing

2011-01-12T21:01:00.002-05:00

Lucy wrote an email to my sister (below) and this is my sister's response:

What an interestingly cryptic work. Tell her I approve both of the local, personal and liminal natures of it; as well as the wisdom of including numbers (never to be overlooked as valuable members of the communication structure).

LUCY
MAMAN
PAPA
EMILE
JAUNE
MOUTON
MANTEAU
MOINEAU
12-3

Resolved

2011-01-09T20:58:00.004-05:00

I once made a New Year's resolution to get back my stomach muscles. That didn't happen. I can't remember any other resolutions...
But I'm considering taking resolutions seriously this year, after I coming upon the Kabbalah "ten questions to ponder", written up in the Huffington Post by Levi Ben-Schmeul. I had a vision of myself being wise and long-sighted, okay with letting my daughter be who she is, even when I don't like it (like tonight), and picked out these three points of meditation from his list:

What will make me wiser?

A hallmark of wisdom is seeing a greater picture than what your ego wants you to believe is true. Is your vision narrowly focused on personal gain? Imagine a larger vision of yourself as a powerful person living to fulfill a greater good. Strive to achieve outcomes in what have been difficult situations that embrace your larger vision of yourself.

How can I deepen my listening?

We have numerous voices clamoring for attention in our heads (as well as outside of them). Some are innocuous, some benevolent and some out for destructive purposes. Take time in a quiet place and consciously listen to the competing voices. Align with the ones who will support you in your quest for growth. When listening to an outside voice, find that quiet place inside to allow space to truly hear what someone is saying.

How can I be more compassionate?

Compassion flows when you appreciate the interconnectedness of life. It is particularly difficult to be compassionate to someone who is feared or seen as a problem. Examine what is rejected along with what is accepted both within and outside of yourself. Seek to be more inclusive as you open your heart to the inherent interconnectedness of life.

Progressive stages of beardedness

2011-01-08T20:15:00.004-05:00

Émile watched the denuding of his Papa's face this week. We were afraid he would cry, and refuse to be held by the naked-faced stranger. Does that baby look alarmed to you?

Final Selection?

2011-01-03T20:20:00.008-05:00

I am putting together a few paintings for my friend Elyse's new yoga studio, Om Kids Yoga Studio, and I think this might be the poses/critters I use for the paintings. Thoughts?

Deer and Rabbit work on the half moon and tree poses

2011-01-02T13:29:00.001-05:00

Reflections on New Year's Eve

2011-01-01T22:03:00.003-05:00

Taken by Lucy's 4 year old friend, Iliana.

Still in love with the photography of children by children.

Land Ho

2010-12-30T22:12:00.002-05:00

My little narwhal painting is part of this very charming treasury, Land-Ho Little Narwhale! curated by rrthoma, the store owner of The Golden Mark (her horse painting is below.)

I really love the idea of narwhals knitting. It comes from a fabulous store, Sadly Harmless. Her paintings are wonderful and fun, and I recommend looking at her shop.

For your listening pleasure... Tom Ashbrook is asking very dull questions (Larry King, anybody?), but William Shatner still makes this a fun interview. I have always been a fan of people who cross the boundary of good taste: "Having boundaries is a mistake, because it encases you in a shell, and .... you're already shrinking."

More Critter Yoga

2010-12-27T15:16:00.003-05:00

It is hard to decide who should do the handstand... Skunk? Bear?

River Horses et al

2010-12-22T18:39:00.000-05:00

Winter has finally and fully hit; we were supposed to go to our friends' house today, and ended up snow bound. Lucy got in a bit of skating before the snow hit, and Émile continues his slow Cowboy Junkie dance.

Lucy just asked me if today could be Christmas, too. It's a bit of a let down to have no more presents, sweets, friends over for dinner...

Question from Lucy: "Can a magician be a fairy?"

I had forgotten the link between hippopotamuses and Christmas, until PluckingPendants curated a treasury on Etsy, called I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. My favorite item on the list is the pair of front and back hippo earrings.

I found a mind bending yogi, Tiffany Cruikshank, online, searching for study photos for some paintings. Impressive, isn't she?

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.”
Lao Tzu

Warthog ... underneath

2010-12-20T11:09:00.006-05:00

I am really enjoying the music of PSAPP and the animations of Hauke Hilberg. Delicious noise, silly bugs.

And sorry, frogs, I have found a new love: warthogs. There is something mythic about them, the hairy fairies. Like dinosaurs, I can almost, but not quite, believe in them. Then, of course, they have their own Flanders and Swann lyrics, so how could you not love them? (full lyrics below, listen here)

Lyrics to The Warthog :

The Jungle was giving a party
A post hibernation ball
The Ballroom was crowded with waltzing Gazelles, Gorillas and Zebras and all.
But who is that animal almost in tears
Pretending to powder her nose?
A poor little Warthog who sits by herself
In a pink satin with blue bows.
Again she is no-body's choice and she sings in a sad little voice:

No one ever wants to court a Warthog
Though a Warthog does her best
I've spent a lot of money for a Warthog
I am perfumed and prettily dressed
I've lustrinsed my hair
I'm perfumed here and there
My gums were tinted when I brushed my teeth
I'm young and in my prime
But a wallflower all the time
'Cos I'm a Warthog
Just a Warthog
I'm a Warthog underneath

Take your partners for a ladies Excuse me!

Excited and radiant she runs on the floor
To join the furor and fuss.
She taps on each shoulder and says 'Excuse me!'
and each couple replied 'Excuse us!'
Then having no manners at all
They sing as they dance round the hall:

'No one ever wants to court a Warthog
Though a Warthog does her best
Her accessories are dazzling for a Warthog
She is perfumed and daringly dressed
We know her these and those are like Marilyn Monroe's
Her gown is just a scintillating sheath
But she somehow fails to please
'Cos everybody sees she's a Warthog
Just a Warthog
She's a Warthog underneath'

Head hanging she wanders away from the floor
This Warthog whom nobody loves
Then stops in amazement
For there at the door stands a gentleman Warthog impeccably dressed
In the act of removing his gloves.
His fine chiseled face seems to frown
As he looks her first up then down

'I fancy you must be a sort of Warthog
Though for a Warthog you look a mess
That make-up's far to heavy for a Warthog;;
You could have chosen a more suitable dress
Did you have to dye your hair?
If that's perfume give me air!
I strongly disapprove of scarlet teeth
But let us take the floor
'Cause I'm absolutely sure
That you're a Warthog
Just a Warthog
The sweetest little,
Neatest little
Dearest and completest little
Warthog ... underneath'.

When you try to take a passport photo, don't use a baby as your model

2010-12-20T09:20:00.001-05:00

Supertramp, again

2010-12-17T12:22:00.005-05:00

Supertramp and Sondheim... I keep hearing Sweeney Todd on the Supertramp CD (remember those?) that puts Émile to sleep. Yay! We have, at last, expanded from the exclusively Cowboy Junkie diet we were on.
Also, the intro to Dreamer sounds surprisingly like the later Jane's Addiction hit, Jane Says...

And I hear my parents' generation in the Goodbye Stranger lyrics,

I have to have things my own way
just to keep me in my youth

This is, more or less, the mantra I was raised on. Not very good for, say, society, family, or individual, eh?

How many times have I heard this album in the last few weeks?

I went to yoga for the first time in years this morning, and I'm already sore.

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, no, wait, Rhubarb, and Thyme

2010-12-16T08:55:00.007-05:00

So, Rosemary is fine for nursing babies, scary 70s movies aside. Parsley, sage, and thyme, however, are bad eggs. As is rhubarb, mysteriously. That knocks off most of my favorite spices, and one of my favorite fruit/vegetables (actually a vegetable).
Now I only have curry, cumin, and rosemary to bolster my meals. Brings me back to prenatal times, when all I ate was curry and cumin, to the point that I was debating which one would be a better name for my little boy. A sort of Rapunzel thing.

I repainted a bit of the butterfly painting, because it had something that kept me from focusing on it. Wish I understood it...

media wars

2010-12-14T09:47:00.003-05:00

I often put together a photo collage as a model when I make a painting, but this is the first time I have been sure that I liked the collage better than the painting. I feel like I am betraying the medium by admitting that.

Don't sneeze at Supertramp

2010-12-07T11:09:00.002-05:00

Things I have learned over the last few days:
1. Pushing my tongue against my top front teeth can keep me from sneezing. (other methods here.)
2. Amaryllis are poisonous to pets.
3. Cradle cap has unknown origins--yeast? mother's hormones?
4. I love the 70s band Supertramp. The Logical Song makes me feel like I am five years old, running around my aunt's house in Ames, Iowa.

When i was young
It seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical

Unanswered question: Do I really want to make a painting from the study collage I made, or is it better as a photo?

The moon rises in purple

2010-12-06T11:06:00.007-05:00

A painting in memory of my childhood pet, my black mouse, Percy. She was a wonderful pet. The charming thing about holding a mouse on your palm is that it defies gravity. It's little heart beats at approximately 480-600 beats per minute, vibrating itself right up into air. Also, feeding her a drop of peanut butter on my finger, with her tiny tongue licking up every bit of peanut oil, was painfully sweet.

The wee little Percival painting made it into an Etsy treasury, called the moon rises in purple, curated by ArtInVenice (yes, he actually lives in Venice, lucky man...) I love the butterfly print.

Lucy drew me a frog. Without a doubt the best frog painting I have ever seen.

Legacies and Teeth

2010-12-03T20:38:00.005-05:00

Émile has become very interested in the activity that seems so important to everyone around him.

My eye was caught by a posted question in a forum I read. The question was simple, but one that has snagged my mind for a while, long before I saw the question: Why do I, or you, make art? It seems, to my farm country genes, and my Peace Corps-raised Id, like an insignificant thing to do in the face of climate destruction, poverty, suffering.

On good days, I think the artist is like a priest, and has a spiritual role to fill.
On other days, it is just a handicap, an itch that must be continually scratched.
Or maybe it is a way of justifying my own existence. "Look, but I made this."

Sometimes this need goes away, when some very significant other creation takes place. Some people teach, and find that their creative drive disappears in the teaching. The same is not true for, say, a filing job. But some of us have it all the time, teaching or not. Babies are the ultimate in creation, but even they don't always make that drive go away.

So, for me, the question remains unanswered. Do you have an answer, yourself?

Red-eyed proof that Thanksgiving is not for babies

2010-11-30T18:40:00.003-05:00

Gills

2010-11-29T09:47:00.006-05:00

A yowling, howling cat, a briefly sleeping baby, Cowboy Junkies... Welcome to Monday. I have a few finds to share for your week.

The first was introduced to me by my friends Elina and Jeff: a thorough peacock of a Russian pop star, calling himself Vitas (see the video, below. It's worth it.)

And if you are looking for really light, but sophisticated, silliness to read, I highly recommend Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, by Ben Winters and, yes, Jane Austen. It's not so much that the sea monsters fill the hole I always felt in Jane Austen (there was none) but they draw screaming arrows at all the social commentary people extol in her work. And it was a fantastic read.

Next, on the more tasteful side, lovely artwork on Etsy, by Melissa McGill.

And, finally, I found two very small people this morning...

Yoga for Critters

2010-11-26T21:37:00.006-05:00

A friend of mine, Elyse Rotondo, is setting up a yoga studio, Om Kids. It got me started on musing over light-hearted yoga decor, and came up with a few four-footed models. Some of them have four feet twice over...

Word geekery of the day: the word "clock" originally meant bell. Then became a slang for hitting someone.

Eco geekery: pork is less bad for the environment than beef (according to this article.)

Pyjamas

2010-11-23T13:06:00.001-05:00

Telescoping with a pencil

2010-11-21T09:04:00.004-05:00

My daughter cajoled a princess drawing out of my sister, and the sight of it sucked me into the back end of the eighties, the beginning of the nineties. Drawings can stay frozen in time, traipsed out for a little air every few decades, showing the last year when drawing was important to that person. For my sister, it was her late teenage years. For my husband, he was perhaps twelve. My brother in law might have been seven. We see this in their current drawings. Is their any other arena that allows for such archeology of the individual?

I reworked the hedgehog Juju painting, losing the blue background and the text. It used to say, "Does hope help?" but, combined with the wistful expression on her face, it made the whole painting a bit of a bummer, instead of the silliness I had intended. The result is still not particularly silly, but less grim, I think.

Tacky is old hat

2010-11-19T08:59:00.007-05:00

Last night, Lucy and I were present for the opening of "Collision" at the RISD Museum of Art. Granted, we were there to hear my fiddle teacher, Cathy Clasper-Torch, play her set with her band, The Gnomes (who were completely awesome.)

Still, Lucy and I willingly sat on the steps and listened to Saccoccio (how lucky is she to have four c's in her name?) give a talk about herding the artists into a collaborative mood and work. Saccoccio, perhaps in her mid 40s, was dressed in artist boudoire fancy funk, an extremely hesitant and nervous, but open, public speaker, with a photo-snapping 10yr old daughter, and a stagehandy, personable, confident husband, who seemed to help orchestrate technical goings on.

Her paintings were good. A lot of the work was good. The space was usually well considered, as Saccoccio herself had specified that all artists were to treat the space as the first participant. Most, though not all, succeeded. Tape streamers hung from the balcony, plumb weights hung from the spanners on the ceiling, videos were projected at and from and over odd angles. Absurd, semi-superheroic, besparkled Velvet Underground-on-inanity musicians (Slink Moss and Susan Jennings) played drums on the walls and bells on bellpulls. They were pretty good.

It was one big, coherent, fun, pretty, ugly, tacky, chaos. I liked it. It competed with the Lynda Benglis show, at least, the early work, over in the new building in shiny, 5yr old/crow attracting gaudiness. Perhaps less serious work? Serious is an important word in the art world. Well, I can't take art seriously to begin with (aside from Eva Hesse's work, and she died from it...) but I think this show dealt seriously with the now classic question of the "white cube" of gallery space. I couldn't help asking myself throughout the show, "Are they serious? They seem to take themselves so seriously. Shouldn't they?"

This whole experience set me to musing. You see were this is going, right? Yes, the question came up in my mind, "Why am I not in this world?" Answer: Perhaps it is that I am too shy, lack social skills, and like to sit in my room like a hermit crab? Perhaps I don't take artwork seriously enough? Perhaps I am too disorganized? Perhaps my work isn't good enough? Perhaps I don't want to be in that world? Don't know.

Yorick and furry friend

2010-11-18T12:32:00.005-05:00

If you have a skull sitting on your desk, you might be tempted to paint it. This tendency afflicts many artists (my friend Eleanor McConnell pointed out that the whole genre is called Vanitas), and I am not immune... The mouse was not sitting on my desk, alas. That would have been so much more fun.

The passel of skulls was painted by Aelbert Jansz van der Schoor.

The painting of Bailey, my friend's sister's horse, is in its final incarnation. Now to pack, double pack, insure, and ship...

Buddhist quote of the day (ish) courtesy of the Interdependence Project:

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned." -- The Buddha

Crows, Welcome

2010-11-14T15:15:00.006-05:00

For such territorial displays of aggression, they must be family; crows and jays are both corvidae. I'm sad when the jays chase the crows (American crows) out of our garden, because I really want to host a few.
I read something on Wikipedia (my favorite website) about the intelligence of crows, and it really tickled me:

Another skill involves dropping tough nuts into a heavy trafficked street and waiting for a car to crush them open, and then waiting at pedestrian lights with other pedestrians in order to retrieve the nuts.

So, here is my little love-painting to crows. And then a photo of Émile and Papa doing yard work... And last but not least, a leaf fairy.

Does anyone know anything about amber teething necklaces? I was momentarily entranced with the idea of their soothing properties, but then the "science" brought me back from the brink of buying. These two (one, two) sites are most concise in their discouragements. Still, pretty, and I think I might get one for Lucy and one for Émile (for his ankle? for later?).

Paint and Piss

2010-11-09T18:36:00.006-05:00

I don't know if it is the company of a giggling five-year-old, whose sense of humor hovers around the nether region ("Did you hear that? I said BUTT. ahahahahh!!!") or a three month old, whose expressions of contentment include delicious smiles, butterfly eyelashes, and clear liquid arcs during changing time. Anyway, I had to look up the etymology of "pee." How did we get there from "urinate"? As I suspected, the French, and their onomatopoeia, are to blame. The origin is pissier, 13th cent. Old French.

My friend asked me (and several other painters) what I like about brushstrokes, as he is writing a painting program. Without thinking too much, I responded that I enjoy, but rarely produce, the unexpected. Think John Singer Sargent, especially landscapes. When the brush pulls two colors together to make an accident that tells the whole story.

Then I thought a bit more, and thought of Lichtenstein's paint stroke sculptures, and realized how important the feathery separations, due to the hairs and structure of the brush, are. Also, the pooling of ink or paint that can create a subject within a subject, as in this painting of wa, the kanji for harmony. What is important to you abot the brushstroke?

My friend Anurag suggested the painting below:

A Smaller Splash

2010-11-07T19:03:00.006-05:00

It's hard to concentrate when your spouse is generously trying to dance the baby to sleep, and the resulting howls compete with the music from downstairs. Poor monkey is teething.

I spent much of the last two weeks on altering these two pages of a children's board book. It's part of Willowing's free class, Art, Heart, and Healing. The first page is imagining my small self, and sending all of the wishes my adult self would have liked for that little person. The second page is supposed to be fulfilling the strongest desire my young self had, having a mother who cared for me. I substituted my young self with Lucy and Émile, thinking I should live in the present... but it did change the emotional flavor. I focused on what they might need that they aren't getting, instead of giving my own child self what she needed. Valuable exercise, but I may try doing it again, this time with me as the child.

My friend Clive McCarthy sent me a link to a New York Times article about David Hockney (who I have enjoyed ever since I saw the Hockney-grandizing film, A Bigger Splash.) It appears that Hockney still knows how to seize the moment, and the medium, and is producing creditable works on his iphone!

Electoral sorrows

2010-11-03T11:23:00.003-04:00

Election day brought tears to our household. I took Lucy and Émile to the polls. We got "I Voted" stickers, one for Lucy, one for me... I thought it would be cute to put mine on the Baby Bjorn, but, over the course of the evening, poor Émile got the sticker completely covering his ear, and Laurent tried to remove it. Many tears. Damn elections.

Émile is sick. Babies with colds. Need I say more?

A walk in the woods

2010-10-30T16:37:00.003-04:00

Lucy, the resident naturalist, drew what she saw on her walk in the forest.

And some family photos, with a very tired Émile.

Jaune the star

2010-10-28T10:09:00.015-04:00

Jaune is an Etsy star!

My painting of her got included in two fun treasuries:

I'll Get You My Pretty, (love the heels) curated by dlurie;

and The session is over... , (very excited about the zipper bracelet) curated by ThatOldBlueHouse.

And a picture of Émile pretending to be a baby who sleeps somewhere other than on me...

Then my current favorite photo of Lucy, a self portrait...

Chiara Merlotti

2010-10-27T12:10:00.004-04:00

This is an interview with my friend and fellow artist, Chiara Merlotti. I recommend it.

Childhood Wishes

2010-10-25T14:48:00.004-04:00

May you have people you trust in your young life.
May you have hugs and kisses and warmth.
May you be fed and washed and dressed appropriately.
May you experience kindness.
May your fears be comforted.
May you always know that you are loved.
May you feel wanted.
May you feel appreciated.

Joni Mitchell, Alex Katz, and Inis Mor

2010-10-22T10:10:00.018-04:00

Émile and I have been listening to Joni Mitchell, For the Roses. Okay, I am listening. He might just hear it. Either way, it's taking me back (oh so long ago) to the post college days, when I first heard the record on a real phonograph, in a house on a hill looking over Galway Bay on Innis Mor. It was just up this street (pictured), and up the hill from the church you see, where I was working on a farm as part of the WWOOF program. The lyrics are so clever and surprising that I still laugh when I hear them. It makes me see the big blustering sky of the westermost point in the old world. Maybe some day I can be that playful! (photo credits to wanderlustgirl and these folks.)

Perhaps it is a mistake to try out a different style of painting while I am adapting to a new baby. It is difficult to think about anything too deeply, with the interruptions and the stress. Nevertheless, I am working on an art journal entry for the course I am following with Willowing, called "Art, Heart and Healing." I'm struggling with how I want to approach the question of color. Limit color to the bare essentials, like an Alex Katz painting? Or go explosive and rainbow, overwhelming the senses until they submit, and see twenty colors as one tame beige? I guess most of the painters I admire limit their colors: Alice Neel, Joan Brown, Richard Diebenkorn, Jean-Édouard Vuillard. The only one I can think of who doesn't is Lucian Freud, but that is hardly colorful. Franz Marc? Max Beckmann? The latter is grim, and his colors are often brutal and emotional, not visually logical. Maybe I'm a Fauvist at heart. Hmm. Even that Andre Derain painting is more refined than what I'm working on. Isn't that a gorgeous painting of Henri Matisse, by the way? Oh well. Who am I missing as inspiration? Help!

Lucy came home and helped me finish the journal entry. I love her pumpkin and handwriting.

A Few Family Photos

2010-10-19T11:13:00.001-04:00

Hedgehog Juju, Bang! Bang!

2010-10-18T10:26:00.009-04:00

This painting is just a thought floating around in my head...

I just read an interesting article on boys' (and girls') violent play. In summary, according to the article, children need to imagine aggression and bad guys in order to be imaginative, and to come to terms with aggression and violence, but all of that kind of play has been on the rise with the advent of heavy marketing to kids. They just have more to come to grips with these days, but it won't necessarily translate into real violence. At least, this was my reading of the article. What do you think?

I was just glancing at the ancient pile of images I have been collecting, sitting there next to Émile's play area, and found this photo of a sculpture by Martin Puryear, shown at the MoMA three years ago. Why is it so desperately appealing? The message is beautiful, no matter what message you get from it. I see the elegance of a journey, where beginning and end are undefined, open, whether or not they are even there. The window is a kind of shortcut, one that I can't get to from the ladder. Plus, the colors are very soothing compliments.

Ah. Found the article, and a clearer image, at the NY Times! Kind of like the pattern from the scanner meets printing press, though...

Maybe it's just that I like sky, and absurd surrealism.

Fairy Tale Treasures

2010-10-15T11:11:00.004-04:00

My little Frog Princess was turned into a treasure... Check out the Etsy treasury, Lost in a Fairy Tale, curated by KatNawlins from New Orleans (that's her painting of the house)
Enjoy!

Wee hedgepig

2010-10-14T14:06:00.005-04:00

Did I mention that it is difficult to paint with a new baby? I finally got a new little critter done, on the pine boards Laurent sawed off of Lucy's old bed...

Oh, lovely Wikipedia, thank you for sharing:

No living species is native to North America. Hedgehogs have changed little over the last 15 million years. Like many of the first mammals they have adapted to a nocturnal, insectivorous way of life. The name 'hedgehog' came into use around the year 1450, derived from the Middle English 'heyghoge', from 'heyg', 'hegge' = hedge, because it frequents hedgerows, and 'hoge', 'hogge' = hog, from its piglike snout. Other folk names include 'urchin', 'hedgepig' and 'furze-pig' .

One of my favorite French nursery rhymes is about a hedgehog (listen here) :
Qui est-ce qui pique, pique, pique
Qui est-ce qui pique quand on le prend ?
C'est mon hérisson mesdames, c'est mon hérisson !
Qu'est-ce qui trotte, trotte, trotte
Dans les allées du jardin ?
C'est mon hérisson mesdames, c'est mon hérisson !
Qui est-ce qui croque, croque, croque
Les insectes et les vers blancs ?
C'est mon hérisson mesdames, c'est mon hérisson !
Qui est-ce qui lape à petits bruits
Le lait que je mets pour lui ?
C'est mon hérisson mesdames, c'est mon hérisson !
Qui est-ce qui s'roule, se met en boule
Sous les feuilles du groseillier ?
C'est mon hérisson mesdames, c'est mon hérisson !
Qui est-ce qui se cache ou bien s'endort
Quand il fait bien froid dehors ?
C'est mon hérisson mesdames, c'est mon hérisson !

What Lucy's Maman Did When She Was Little

2010-10-13T15:04:00.004-04:00

We got back from Vermont yesterday. We were there for the wedding of our friends, Brian and Thom. They got married on a field in the town near Sugarbush Mountain. We, however, arrived just after the marriage, in time for the reception afterward, because we were stuck in traffic with a baby who howls and sobs and gives “how can you do this to me” eyes when we are in the car. Fun. But the leaves were beautiful, as Laurent kept reminding me. Emile, along with his sister, has inherited my hatred of cars. At least neither of them does what I did, which was to vomit on every car trip. As I lived in Minneapolis, and my father up near Moorhead, and my mother's family in Iowa, we drove a lot. We always brought along plastic bags. It was a constant of my childhood—I get spanked when I go to a restaurant, and I throw up when I get into a car. It's amazing I love going to restaurants. Still hate the car.

What Lucy's Maman Did When She Was Little

During the ride, Lucy kept asking me to tell her funny things I did when I was little. She wants one or two of these little anecdotes per day, and I need to start stockpiling them. Finally, a way to connect on a human level, instead of the constant guerilla versus dictator that runs rampant through our interactions.

So, here's one. My mother, back when she was still in her alcoholic haze, used to send my sister and I away for a month at a time during the summer, because she “couldn't stand the sight of us.” I remember one summer, I think I must have been eight years old, when we went off to our grandmother's place in Woodward, Iowa. As usual, we packed for ourselves, and I chose my favorite outfits, and only my favorite outfits: two identical bib overall shorts, with little bear buttons, and one yellow nighty top with bloomers, which my mother had made for me. For a whole month of playing with equally parentally equipped cousins, and eating cinnamon toast and Nestle Quick for every meal, I wore these three outfits, with no distinction between night and day. Lucy, was that funny?

I always liked staying at my chain smoking, solitaire playing, march music listening, popcorn eating grandmother's house, but it wasn't for her sake. She was a mean old viper, who told my cousin Courtney that she would end up like her mother, too poor to have a place to shit in. Which Courtney might have, but I hope not. I hope her children are washed more frequently than we were. I liked going to my grandmother's because of the freedom, and the cousins, and running wild over the whole town, from playground to cemetery, day and night, to the neighbors' bomb shelter that we were sure was a troll's house. We had the upstairs to ourselves, at least until I set fire to it by accident. I was only playing with a lighter and some polyester quilting squares, totally innocent, really. (Should we tell the adults downstairs that the house is about to explode? No, we should not, we should all just run outside and watch.) I loved the games of Star Wars, and fairies, and climbing in the old cherry tree (from which we always heard the croaked warning, “If you kids fall out of that tree and break a leg, don't you come running to me...”) Though I wasn't cared for, at least no one ever made me feel unwelcome, contrary to my experience in my own home.

Weddings and Guinea Pigs

2010-10-07T18:13:00.003-04:00

Beautiful photos of Lucy, Laurent, and me, from my friend Anu!
(M. Benedicte Verley Photography)

That is tea, and why I love Bob Ross

2010-10-06T12:39:00.010-04:00

It's pouring rain, and has been rainy for days. Listening to the Cowboy Junkies helps. I'm pleased every time I hear the lyrics of the Cold Tea Blues, by Michael Timmins:

If I pour your cup, that is friendship
If I add your milk, that is manners
If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste,
that is tea
But if I measure the sugar
to satisfy your expectant tongue
then that is love,
sitting untouched
and growing cold.

I am looking forward to participating in an online course with Tamara LaPorte (aka Willowing).
She has filled the hole left in my heart by Bob Ross. Do you remember him, and his happy little trees? I loved Bob Ross, coming from my grandmother's ancient old television, telling me and her how to use a fan brush, and how to wash oil out with solvents and then beat the brush against the easel.

My grandmother is the one who first handed me a paintbrush and some oils, before I'd hit the age of ten. She took her ducks and ponds and fir trees seriously, and I loved Bob Ross for it. She was a farm wife with no one but him for company. He had lived through aggressive military training, and saw no reason to live in a world that did not have happy little trees in it. Hear, hear!

Willowing has her own version, with whimsy style painting, nonviolent communication, and Byron Katie. It makes me happy. It's that holiday from irony I'm always craving.

Moro Reflex, Cypress Hill

2010-10-05T15:30:00.005-04:00

In another 2 to 3 months, Émile will sleep without startling himself awake. This startle is a cute little monkey reflex, called the Moro reflex, after an Austrian who, according to Wikipedia, "discovered" it, around the turn of the last century. Really? Discovered, like no parent had ever noticed that newborns wake themselves by acting like they're falling? I'm stodgy, I know, but I think words should be used more carefully than that...
Getting Émile to sleep still involves dancing, often to rap. This drives my husband nuts, especially when it's Cypress Hill. I can understand hating Cypress Hill, even though I love them. Even I can see that they are obnoxious. Interestingly, they are still making music, a new album called Rise Up. I kind of thought they'd be in jail by now.

In the photos: Anne, Lucy, Émile, and me.

Goodbye one last time

2010-10-04T12:36:00.004-04:00

I really loved the cottage in Wellfleet on Cape Cod, and I know my aunt loved it, too. I'm happy for her she found a buyer, but sad to see it go. This little painting is for you, Aunt Crystal! (Literally-- do you want me to mail it to you, or will we be seeing you sometime soon?)

RISCA grants and the talents of others

2010-09-30T22:01:00.012-04:00

I just finished my application for the RISCA Individual Project grant. In the process, I learned that my friend Christina Spangler is a wonderful writer, and I got to admire the work of three other artist friends.

Jinny Pearce makes stunning prints, as rich in meaning as in tonal variation.

Margaret Owen handles paint as if the rest of us are just missing out on one of human beings' natural endowments,

and Carie Chong makes installations that are all the more poignant for their elegance. How about that for a list of talented friends?

In the words of my friend Christina,

...in charcoal and paint, growing and flowing, stumbling and overlapping, revealing the layering of lives operating on many levels, at varying speeds, through the lenses of those who have lived them, and who can best express them, female artists themselves.

The video clip is the grant proposal...

RISCA Grants, Émile in Orange

2010-09-27T09:59:00.003-04:00

Slogging through through my proposal for a RISCA grant, and taking pictures of a cute baby...

I'm also listening to the wonderful music of my violinist friend, Ysanne Spaveck. You can listen to her music here.

And looking at the humorous paintings of the now defunct Royal Art Lodge.