tonight, alberta
Tonight, Last Thursdays on Alberta. Six to nine p.m. Galleries, makers, etc. I hear. Mulysa and I will be there, probably in front of or near Bolt. Come and see us. Say hi.
weblog for http://www.ohbara.com
Tonight Brian (he of the Jerome Fellowship, newly! Can I announce that here, B?) and I are catching a late bus to Chicago. We'll visit my cousins, go to the museums, walk around. Chicago was my first taste of freedom, as a senior in high school. I went down there to see colleges, but ended up taking the trains all over (both alone and with my cousin). I love public transportation: Greyhound, train, city bus, vaporetto. It makes me feel good to be around other people, going somewhere. (This photo is our point of initial departure.)
I'm pleased--I needed something big enough for my passport and travel documents, as well as my ID cards, check card, money (folding and coin), cell phone, and pens. I can even put my little notebook into the pocket that holds the travel documents, if I want to.
And it has strawberries. Who could ask for anything more? (Other photos here.)
The less time I have, the more I find myself trying to do. This is as a rule: it's the reason I came out of graduate school with not one, but three manuscripts. It's the reason I come up with (and execute) new designs, invariably, the week before a show. It's the reason I take on extra jobs, offer help (even when it's not necessary), and push really hard right up to the wire, even though I might have been slacking off a bit beforehand.
Most of the time it produces excellent results, especially in combination with the high expectations I set for myself.
Right now the list (and for me, lists are stress-reducers mostly; occasionally they do make me more anxious, but then I stop using them for a while, loosen back up) includes a skirt in grey cotton and yellow linen for myself; a cream wool winter coat, also for myself; a cashmere skirt (um, ditto). And then, um, packing all the things I own, or giving them away, or using them up? Oh, and also a slip dress like the one in the spring Marie-Claire Idées (on the page with the painted wardrobe) and a quilt for Brian for when I'm gone, and a little jacket for me (and two or three for the shops?) and a long, many-pleated skirt in dark brown linen (ooh, also for me).
And I keep having more ideas (true to form) and, and, and. This one does not know how to cut herself off.
Of course, I was there too (and barely survived, with an awful migraine by the end from the smoke that was drifting into the building from smokers outside, the super-loud music, and my lack of sleep). But I meant to write about Brian on Friday (something I love, am excited about), and didn't, so now I will.
For Brian, working as an artist is all. I have never known anybody so dedicated to his own education and to developing an understanding of and connection to the world around him. This is a photo of his studio during his last year in grad school. All those prints are his trying to understand the construction and being of a sphere. He is exhaustive and deep in his methods.
And now he is finding a way to support himself beyond the graphic design job he has. I'm so proud that this person, who can be introverted, but who has a wonderful sense of humor, the kindest heart, and who is thoughtful in extremis, is getting his work out into the world using the most populist of print media: relief (in this case, letterpress) printing. What does this mean for him? More time in the studio, a job he enjoys, and most of all, the good that comes from making things with one's hands.
New bag design in linen and Japanese cotton. Inside pockets, ribbon ties. Two down, one to go. Oh, and look what I found! (I especially love the Eiffel Tower one, even if the counting words are inaccurate.)
Tomorrow: something I love, something exciting.



The flowers are from Barrett, for housewarming and congratulations. More about that sometime, I guess. But for now: free ribbons!
I am for YES. Both. Not binary. Magic and ordinary, mess and work, perfect and broken, able and not able. Maybe it's naïve, but I always assume how I am is how everyone else is: getting by, doing well, making do. I'm amazed and inspired by my peers and their work ethics and their thought processes and their new ideas and their busy lives. I understand these things because I live them, too. So I know that there is laundry to be done, and dishes, and that avocado I was going to eat and now it is just getting overripe and SOMETHING needs to be done with it, and a million scraps of paper and cloth, and lots of filing, and, and, and. That's okay. Your beautiful, clean, perfect lives are okay, too, sisters. I'm glad to see them. All.
I've had this dress since I was three. It's one of those hangers-on, a thing I can't get rid of. But now that I'm moving so far away, I have to consider what I really need, and what is sentimental but unnecessary. So today it went into the giveaway bag, and hey. It's all right. (The picture above it, on the other hand, is a New Yorker cover from my birthday in 1982. It shows a girl with a present standing at a door. My dad and mom framed it and I've always had it hanging somewhere. It won't be leaving anytime soon.)
But no melancholy, now. It's raining, has been raining all day, and after so many days of heat this is just right. I sent off my package for the Vintage Button Swap that Sally is holding, and walked all over campus through the rain. I finally have stopped feeling like a college student--after having been one, or sort of one, for seven years. It's strange.
(A piece of Japanese brocade, about 18" x 24"; $8, postage in.)