Studio Space

A couple of my pals and I are clearing out a warehouse to use as a shared studio space. It's pretty big. The space has been used as storage for a number of years and part of the deal involves getting it cleared out. We don't mind because rent is hellah cheap.

I am so incredibly stoked about this space! I plan to spend lots of time there and do so much work. My main focus will be on screen printing. At first anyway. There are paintings that need to happen, oh, and photographs, a lot of them, that have yet to be taken. There are tableaux-based films that have been fixedly lodged in my head for years and there are tapestries.

Here is one little corner and the next is a photograph depicting myownself (L) and my pretty studiomate (R). All that stuff's the stuff we're clearing out.

End Of Term

Well, this is the last week of classes for me. Not really much to do. The nice thing about an art degree is that it is project heavy, exam light.*

I have a comprehensive exam in environmental science and some projects due, but that's about it. Oh, it's really nice to not be a procrastinator. I'm surprised at how many folks claim procrastination with a tone of pride. Well, have fun with all that stress come end of term. It's not for me.

In fact, I'm one of those annoying students. You know, the ones who sit in the front and answer the rhetorical questions, who ask for clarification on assignments everyone else hoped the teacher would forget, who get their money's worth or as close to it as they can. They say, "Cs get degree." But I believe honor roll As have a better chance of getting into grad school, not to mention getting a job.

So now that the semester's winding down, I'll have time for some fun. Street art, wheat paste, murals, actually reading actual books for heavens sake already. All the fun things I couldn't do with my time taken up with classes.

In fact, I got an early start, wheat-pasting last night before the semester's even over.

This isn't me. I neither grew a beard nor shaved my head.

*I'm reading Strunk and White's Elements of Style. Not through it yet, so no grammar/punctuation judging please. And honestly, I'll be damned if I ever diagram another sentence. Ain't nobody got time for that.

Of This Whole Year

I was thinking today about what I'm most thankful for just in this past year.

It turns out that what seemed like the worst thing (Hudson [inadvertently] lighting himself on fire) developed into the best experience of the year for me. I had never spent that much time one-on-one with Mama. It was so wonderful.

A week-long trip. Huntington, West Virginia. Driving around, finding our way, lots of good discussions, being there for Hudson, worrying about lodging, having our particular travel rituals develop, enjoying our mutual guilty pleasures (only because what we looked forward to all day went against the Hospitality House regulations), laughing and having running jokes, reading aloud to each other. All of it, all of it. Just being together.

My love for Mama was a different and special love after that week. And that is what I am most thankful for this year.

How about you? An event or experience? Something you accomplished or gained? Something you overcame? A realization?

Crazy

I'm feeling a little crazy. Check out my etsy shop and buy something with the coupon code CRAZY for 50% off. I'll keep this code active until tomorrow (Thursday, Nov. 21) at midnight.

SHOP NOW

Hummingbirds and Hornets

I've had two memorable dreams in as many nights. 

1) It was a few years down the road. After Beatrice and Ambrose, I had more and more kids. All girls. They were everywhere, with snotty noses and high pitched voices. I did not know them or love them. I couldn't remember their names or when they were born. I was a terrible mother. Nothing really happened in the dream. We were in a house with a lot of stairs. That is all.

2) This dream took place in an apple orchard. I was in the top of a tree. I noticed a hummingbird flitting around the tree, then another. Then I noticed a hornet. It occurred to me that the tree belonged to neither the hummingbirds nor the hornets, but that they both vied for territory. As I looked further around the orchard, I realized that some trees were full of hummingbirds and some were swarming with angry hornets. I was afraid of the hornets and hoped the hummingbirds would win out. That is all.

Interpretations?

Odds and Ends

I have too much glasses.

Dennis Hopper's Lost Album. Photographs that were discovered after his death. Warhol, Paul Newman, etc.

Vast visual resource by local curator. Slow to load, but worth the wait.

If you are an artist or designer, check out this competition. I'm participating and you should, too.

If you still haven't decided what to get me for Christmas, one of these would be just fine.

And here comes Thanksgiving. I shall be making these and these for the family brunch.

Utter Silliness

"The Taurus/Gemini cusp is referred to as the “cusp of energy”. Together these two are vibrant, versatile and prolific. Some have been known to liken this to early adolescent, wanting to do so much and having the energy to do it. Being both Earth and Air, the physical nature of the Taurus side combines nicely with the excitement and constant movement of the Gemini. The desire to do is combined with a thorough thought process and excellent communication. One thing is for certain, this combination loves to communicate.

The Earth side provides stability and self discipline but the Air influence drawn the combination towards behavior that is nowhere near stable and has no real need for any of their ingrained discipline. This leads a Taurus/Gemini combination to be somewhat inconsistent, nervous and very scattered. But in that same breath they can both analyze challenges and communicate them to others easily. They can adapt easily and are highly intelligent but for all their practicality they can be just as over indulgent. Couple the latter with their charm and gentleness and you have someone you can fall easily in love with and not want to let go."

More Here

I'm not really into the zodiac or whatever. But it's interesting and fun to read about one's sign. I was born on the cusp, in the middle of the night, May 20th. I always read just the Taurus stuff and thought, "Yeah, way off, totally bogus." Then I read an article about the love life of a Cancer/Gemini match (James is Cancer) and it was so right on. Unreal. So I started relating more to Gemini. 

What Is Your Sign!? What do you think about it???

Re-Dedication

You know that Southern Baptist tradition of re-dedicating yourself to the Lord? I'm bringing it home. Bedtime has been rough. Meals have been rough. Getting the kids to play without fighting constantly has been impossible. And I've been busy with other things.

But I'm re-dedicating myself to the children. To my role as their mother. To adjusting my priorities.

I've already started. I read to them more, practice patience, try to be more intentional in all our daily activities. Etcetera, etcetera.

My gosh, this lot is a hard one! This may be a bad time to try to cut back on the vino.

Before

Now the kids share a room and I get Am's room as my new studio. Let this serve as a before shot. It is a terrible cell phone picture, which will make my future studio tour look all the better. I think I'm going to keep my (old library table) desk smack in the middle of the room. That way I can get at it from all angles. My wine, of course. I need a bookshelf, but otherwise, I think I can fit most everything in the dresser or closet. 

Costumed

Yeah, so I'm late getting these up, whatever. The kids had a good Halloween. They went trick-or-treating with their Daddy. When they came home, I made popcorn and we all watched Frankenweenie. The old one from 1984.

(While they were all out, I did a tea leaf reading. But that's a story for another day.)

She's lucky I'm an artist

My view has always been that no canvas or wall is truly big enough for my vision. My daughter shares this. Mere paper? No. That won't do. She needs walls. She needs to climb on furniture to make the faces big enough. She's lucky that her momma understands her vision. 

I tried to capture some of her work, but it just doesn't come across in pictures with the same impact as in real life. Her work is bold and striking and raw. I can definitely see the early influence of Seuss and the Minions coming through, but her voice is her own.

That first image is one of my favorite of these pieces. It has been a while in the making. She will work on it in chalk, wiping it away over and over until she gets it right. Then she'll set in down in graphite or (washable) crayon. 

The final image is the start of her mural in her brother's room. It greets him upon waking. The top is higher than his head. 

Bea's Hair

This is old news for my facebook friends, but for my blog readers, here's something that happened recently. Bea's hair had become a monstrosity. It had a life of its own and would not be tamed. I had taken to calling her Tatterhood because she was generally disheveled and impossibly scruffy looking. I mean, look:

I did not add a vignette effect to this; The light naturally comes in that way.

It was starting to dread up and had inevitable foodstuff at all times lodged in it. De-tangling it was a long and screamful process that left us mad at each other for extended periods. So it just had to go. She was ok with it, surprisingly. I made the mistake of letting her see Tangled when she was 2 and she's wanted butt length hair since then. But lately she's been begging for an "Amby haircut."

This is what she got:

One of the best decisions of my life.

Book Worm

Last night after I put Ambrose to bed, I heard him in his room and found him with the light on. After he's been tucked in, that totally doesn't fly. He was in bed looking at a book. I made him lie down and I turned the light back off.

Then this morning, I was up at 6:15 getting ready for school when I heard sounds coming from his room. He was awake, had turned on his light and was back in the same book.

He amazes me sometimes. So determined!

Signage

Lately, I've been working on a sign for Hub-Bub, the hub city's cultural edge. The awesome folks up there gave me creative license, just saying they wanted hand-lettering. It was such a fun project! I learned a lot about materials and technique and I can't wait to do this again.

I didn't take a "before" picture, but you can see the blue that it was. There were sticker letters on it and these tan painted lines. Getting the sticker letters off took awhile and the lines never quite came up.

The folks at Hub-Bub suggested I go with cyan or orange. I worked with cyan a lot on a mural recently and chose orange instead because, well, Clemson, of course.

I used an old dinosaur projector to set my guides. It was really, really cold in the studio! If you look there on the right hand side, you can see some of Cesar Maxit's stencils. :)

Painting and painting and painting! My hand is so much steadier with all this practice. 

Here is the finished piece. This is a stupid cell phone picture so the color is weird; It's more orange than this in real life. I love how it looks!

Lou and Me

So yesterday morning when I heard the news of Lou Reed's death, two memories came to me.

I first listened to Lou Reed with Daddy. We didn't listen to rock'n'roll at home due to being Southern Baptist/Presbyterian. So it was a really neat thing whenever I got to ride with Daddy in his old pick-up truck and it felt sinful but safe. You know? I loved Satellite of Love and New York Conversation. It was just an old cassette tape is all.

But I have another Lou Reed related memory that's even better. Hudson and I, when we lived down in Charleston, had a perfect day. We drank sangria in the park and fed animals in the zoo. It was a slightly overcast day and we went to a wildlife preserve that you just kind of hike through. So it was very remote and private on a day like that. A Sunday Morning... Ok in my memory, that is true, not sure about reality. We found a side trail and had a picnic of cheap fruity wine and muffins. We saw bison and fed bears. And every time I hear Perfect Day, I think of Hudson and that day.

NMH

Neutral Milk Hotel with Half Japanese opening was an amazing show. The 40 Watt was packed to bursting, as you might imagine. NMH is touring for the first time in, what, 15 years? And the 40 Watt in Athens, GA is their original stomping grounds. People came from all over for this show. I went with Lucy. It was a 2 hour drive from Greenville.

We parked right behind the 40 Watt and had time to split a (cream cheese and jalapeno!) burger from the diner next to the club. Julian Koster was there, like right in front of us. And Anthony Bourdain was at the table next to ours.

After dinner, we stood in line for a full cigarette before getting carded and stamped and ushered into the dark, crowded club. We went immediately to the merch table. I didn't have much money, but I got two posters and had enough leftover for the coat check girl.

For Half Japanese, we stood about 10 people from the front, bodies pressed together, you know how it is. They played songs about love and monsters. All the innuendo was right up Lucy's and my mutual alley. I wished James was there!

When Half Japanese finished, it was our chance to scoot on up to the front. Everyone would take a drinksandpotty break, right? Wrong! Nobody moved, except to shove closer in anticipation. Luckily, we were able to make a deal with a guy and get about 2 bodies from the stage. And there we stood for the next few hours.

I can't really describe to you all that happened after that. I believe it will require an in-depth illustration to fully process. Suffice it to say, they played all the songs that I needed to hear and I left with the feeling that it was a once in a lifetime evening.

First of all, it was October.

“First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys. Not that all months aren’t rare. But there be bad and good, as the pirates say. Take September, a bad month: school begins. Consider August, a good month: school hasn’t begun yet. July, well, July’s really fine: there’s no chance in the world for school. June, no doubting it, June’s best of all, for the school doors spring wide and September’s a billion years away.

"But you take October, now. School’s been on a month and you’re riding easier in the reins, jogging along. You got time to think of the garbage you’ll dump on old man Prickett’s porch, or the hairy-ape costume you’ll wear to the YMCA the last night of the month. And if it’s around October twentieth and everything smoky-smelling and the sky orange and ash gray at twilight, it seems Halloween will never come in a fall of broomsticks and a soft flap of bedsheets around corners.”

– opening paragraphs from Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury

Goings On

via

Jake and Lucy are staying with us for a while while they look for a house in the area. It's great to have their company and good for the kids to get to play with Arlo so much. It'll all be fine as long as I continue to isolate myself for that nightly study sesh!

Speaking of which, I'm kinda behind on the school front. You see, the last few weeks, I have been involved in an all-consuming mural project. It's pretty much done now and I am both glad and sad. It took up a lot of my time and I was away from James and the kids a lot. But alternately, I learned some good stuff and met some great folks. The mural is in Spartanburg where I hope to be increasingly involve in the art scene.

On that topic, I have a new project to work on. It is an outdoor sign for an art organization in Spartanburg.

You know, I could get into sign painting. Like as a thing. I'm thinking about looking for more opportunities like this and doing some field research in this area. There's so many great hand-painted signs from back in the day and a number have recently been covered up. That makes me sad and I believe this to be an art form worth reviving.

James Ambrose is Three

We are having cake and presents tonight. Too bad his birthday falls on one of my school days, else he'd have a super 3 birthday like we did for Bea. She woke up to a three pancake stack, had a party at 3pm with 3 presents, etc. It was great. But tonight will be great also! And there's real-live-film in the ol' Pentax!

all photos by James

Family Night

Isobel almost never allows her picture to be taken. Pretty!

I have the most awesome family. I'm sure of it. There are a lot of us, but every one is a keeper.

A lot of Sundays, we all gather at Irene (my folks' house) to break bread and catch each other up on life. This past Sunday, my dad's only sister was in town, so the group was slightly bigger with grandparents and all. We had such a lovely feast after which we sat around with our drinks and sang songs like good Irish folk. The guitar went around and boy did we fill that house right up. We sang our own songs, Irish drinking songs, Leonard Cohen, David Bowie, Peter Sarstedt.

Those are the good times. I love the feeling of being connected to an amazing group of funny, smart, nice, creative people.

Oceanic Obsession

As I may have mentioned, I'm going in a nautical direction. So this is the song I wrote in this strain. It was debuted a few nights ago with a fair reception. Ok, so I'm no Leonard Cohen. But I like it.

What I Did

I stood outside the back door, pondering all the times in the day I'd raised my voice at the kids. It was a lot, once I got thinking about it. Now that naps were over, I was in the middle of resigning myself to the hours and hours of wakeful children ahead of me before bedtime.

Then Bea came over all sugar and spice. That's what we call it when she's sweet. I felt bad for being an old meanie, but at the same time, what with the sun coming through the mimosa and the wasps chilled to silence, I felt a burst of motherly affection.

I swooped her up. And up, up over my head. I threw all her 40 some pounds right into the air. And I caught her in my pouch, my arms a sling and her legs wrapped around what's left of my middle. And at that moment, something went all wrong in my back. It happened so quick, there wasn't a sound.

The ice-cream truck came and I went on, as mothers always seem to do. But now it's just a touch harder.

Hours in the Day

There aren't enough of them, hours in the day, not when more than 4/5ths are taken up with housewifery and scholastic endeavors. So the night will be mine as well. I usually stay up until mid-night, but I think I can stretch it to one.

I'm tapping into some previously wasted wine time: Driving. Instead of just flipping from station to station, I'm listening to Moby Dick. (I was inspired by this NPR Segment. Listen to it.) It is super entertaining thus far and provides quite a diversion.

Things have been moving in a more or less oceanic direction in my mind. Not that I'm plotting to r-u-n-n-o-f-t or anything, but here's the thing: I made a nautical piece of art for school, it inspired me to write a nautical song, which lead me to pursue Moby Dick, and finally I got involved with Isak Dinesen who said, "The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea."

So there it is. The moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas.

The Chase

In the midst of all the responsibility –children and home, school, homework, running people thither and yon, financial stress, deadlines, etc., etc.– I feel the irresistible pull. A pull towards higher thought, deeper conversation, new experiences, alternative perspectives, challenges.

I seek intoxication, but not the crude and ordinary kind. Not from wine or substances, but from a life really lived. You know?

Something Good to Read

Thirteen Observations made by Lemony Snicket while watching Occupy Wall Street from a Discreet Distance 

1. If you work hard, and become successful, it does not necessarily mean you are successful because you worked hard, just as if you are tall with long hair it doesn’t mean you would be a midget if you were bald.

2. “Fortune” is a word for having a lot of money and for having a lot of luck, but that does not mean the word has two definitions.

3. Money is like a child—rarely unaccompanied. When it disappears, look to those who were supposed to be keeping an eye on it while you were at the grocery store. You might also look for someone who has a lot of extra children sitting around, with long, suspicious explanations for how they got there.

4. People who say money doesn’t matter are like people who say cake doesn’t matter—it’s probably because they’ve already had a few slices.

5. There may not be a reason to share your cake. It is, after all, yours. You probably baked it yourself, in an oven of your own construction with ingredients you harvested yourself. It may be possible to keep your entire cake while explaining to any nearby hungry people just how reasonable you are.

6. Nobody wants to fall into a safety net, because it means the structure in which they’ve been living is in a state of collapse and they have no choice but to tumble downwards. However, it beats the alternative.

7. Someone feeling wronged is like someone feeling thirsty. Don’t tell them they aren’t. Sit with them and have a drink.

8. Don’t ask yourself if something is fair. Ask someone else—a stranger in the street, for example.

9. People gathering in the streets feeling wronged tend to be loud, as it is difficult to make oneself heard on the other side of an impressive edifice.

10. It is not always the job of people shouting outside impressive buildings to solve problems. It is often the job of the people inside, who have paper, pens, desks, and an impressive view.

11. Historically, a story about people inside impressive buildings ignoring or even taunting people standing outside shouting at them turns out to be a story with an unhappy ending.

12. If you have a large crowd shouting outside your building, there might not be room for a safety net if you’re the one tumbling down when it collapses.

13. 99 percent is a very large percentage. For instance, easily 99 percent of people want a roof over their heads, food on their tables, and the occasional slice of cake for dessert. Surely an arrangement can be made with that niggling 1 percent who disagree.

(We Are) Party People

It's been a long time since James and I have thrown down. But we are having a party tomorrow night. (Kara, are you reading this?)

To get in the spirit, I started looking back at pictures of some of our previous parties. And I'll show them to you if you promise not to judge the low quality. The photographer was drunk. Obviously.