A life unknown until now

My mom and I sat at the kitchen table and, with a fine tooth comb, went thru each and every page of Mrs. H's photo book. Her life, or a large part of it, was hand-collaged with scotch tape in all directions, on each and every page. A life that included at least 30 letters from her daughter, Cheryl. A life that produced a husband (who became an ex), two children, Cheryl and Ronnie, and a bounty of other relatives. A life, that, at the point of her death, and the estate sale that followed, no one was there to pick up and carry on with. No one would be repeating the story of the time Ronnie dressed in that funny straw hat and strummed on that big guitar, maybe pretending to be Elvis. No one would be sharing the memories of the time they all traveled to meet at Rocky Motel and spent that crazy night in that wild town.
To some, it may sound like a sad tale, but I don't see it that way. Or, at least, I never had before. My mom and I, my sister and I, my mom, sister, and whatever other members of my family happen to be nearby--have done this before. We've bought an album, a shoebox, a ziplock baggie filled with photos, letters, divorce papers, birth records, and numerous other documents of someones life and bit by bit, pieced it all together. We pour over the photos, we read the letters out loud to one another, we search the documents for clues. Without knowing one of these souls, after hours and sometimes days of this digging, calling in friends and strangers alike to comment on our findings, we can tell you who's who, who married who, who divorced who, where they went, what they did, how they lived.... it's a bit of an art, really. It's years of practice that has brought us here. A keen sense of observation, a dire curiosity of others, and the ability to fill out a person's story with very little detail known. We love this.

This time, though, it got me thinking. About Mrs. H., Cheryl and Ronnie and how there was no one left to pick up the pieces. In fact, this time, it almost made me sad.


a thank you to: all photos borrowed from one of my very favorite sites.

romance 101

A friend recently read me a poem she wrote that was all about telling love off. The sickly sweetness of it, the friggin hearts, the wilting roses, the furtive love notes--it was actually a really great poem. And, I'm in love. But, I remember when I wasn't. And I desperately wished I was. And how that felt. There were definitely times I wanted to throw a torch while walking by a hallmark shop on valentine's day...or that I'd prayed to the cynical gods above me that the couple sitting in front of me at the movies would take their tonsil hockey somewhere else. But then, I also remember when love did arrive at my doorstep in the form of RK. How new and fresh it all was. How shiny and perfect. There was no room for what ifs or what was life like moments before. Flaws weren't something you searched for, your eyes were too taken with this cloud of romance hovering above you, swirling around you, filling you both up. Hearts, in the shape of balloons, or chocolate cakes or pendants, were all just fine with you. Roses, you couldn't get enough dozens to keep you satiated. Love notes were scribbled on everything within reach. And those hallmark shops you'd pass by, well, suddenly, every card in there seemed printed for you and your love. It's not that you think these things can't happen, it's just that it starts to feel like they'll never happen to you. It's not that you forget these things when you don't have them, it's that you long for them with such great passion that the longing can reach a bitter end. And sometimes, that's what's left there, that bitter taste. I'm in no way implying my friend is bitter. In fact, she's just the opposite. She's hopeful, without a trace of bitterness. Excited, with all the anxious unknown that comes with that. After she read the poem, which ends with a real promise to future, positive love, it made me excited. It made me excited for her, for what lays out there in the future. And it made me remember that first sight of love, at my front door, all over again. It made me remember all the hearts and balloons and roses and love notes. It made me remember that it can happen instantly. I'm so very happy and lucky to be in this loving relationship, this comforting and passionate balance of friendship and love, but sometimes it's just as sweet to remember those first days of discovery all over again....

I'd wish this kind of love on all my friends.

Have you ever wanted something so bad that you're just sick about it?
Have you ever longed for something for so long and not gotten it
that you start to rifle thru the files of the bad karma you may have committed in your past to bring on such bad luck in your present?

And then had to keep reminding yourself, there's always the future?

Digging for beauty

Loving this site found thru this site....

I spent some serious time on the internet today and got an eyeful of beauty. One photo in particular really got me digging deep.

See life

My neice, Sofia, was in town visiting a couple of weekends ago and it was no holds-barred! What do you want to do Sofia? Anything you want! Anything! Wanna go to the moon? Maybe I can get tickets. Wanna hire a private jet to see Alcatraz from above? Suuuuuurrrre. Why not? I wanted to give her the world!

Really, I was ready for anything, any requests or demands on sites and scenes! But, instead of having big ideas in her head or demanding cotton candy while riding a seal at Pier 39, she was up for anything that came our way and was okay with everything that did and didn't happen and was easy going all the way through. She never complained or asked for more or something different. It was like being with the dream 10 year old.
We hit up fisherman's wharf: every inch of the Aquarium, the Arcade, ate fish & chips, pigged out on ice cream, and stood watching for ages, in awe, the seals at Pier 39. When we got home that night, we ordered pizza and rented Pretty in Pink. She liked the movie, but when I asked her if she thought it was a bit dated...I could see she didn't want to hurt my feelings (I'd already regaled her with stories of my childhood love for this movie, molly ringwald, ducky, all things pink, and on and on...as well as shedding a few tears watching it this time around, and no, i'm not embarrassed... i LOVE this movie!!!), she looked at me from the corner of her eye and said, "um, dated? i guess, a little". I wouldn't blame her for wondering how those people ever became actors. Let's face it, Andrew McCarthy and Molly Ringwald ain't your classic beautys of the Disney channel, which she's addicted to. I even made her sit through all the special features and she didn't make a peep. Was she bored? Tired? Probably deathly so! Good ole Sofia...

For me, it was a dream weekend. I love hanging out with Sofia and always have. I feel like I've grown up with her at the same time that I feel like she might just outgrow me someday...but, as long as she'll have me, I'll take her anywhere she wants to go and show her all the greats, including Sixteen Candles.

A little birdie

I'm in the thick of it with trying to get all my ducks in a row. I've got the stationary show coming up in just a few weeks, and I'm trying to keep up with Etsy, making new cards, some commission work and we're trying, really thinking about trying, to re-organize our house to make it work like an efficient machine (the old saying 'everything has it's place' is what we're going for...).

So, while writing has seemed to move into the back seat...when I sit down to do it, I realize how much I miss it. So, I'm saving up thoughts and funny stories and hoping I'll remember them all and be able to launch into them here at some point...

In the meantime, while I was shooting some work down at the studio, both for recording purposes and to put up on the ole Etsy, I found a little something. A little gift someone left me...I almost missed it. He matches the feathers.

The Warp and The Weft has arrived!

I'm currently visiting LA. But it never really feels like "visiting" so much as coming home. Most of my family lives here, or in surrounding areas, so I always stay with family. If I go to my parents, I'm in the house I grew up, which can't be beat for 'going home again'. And if I go to my sister's, it's truly a second home. It always has been; whether we're living in upstate New York, or downtown Manhattan, or an apartment in Los Feliz, my sister, Kaari, knows how to make you feel totally, 100% at home. Mi Casa es Su Casa should be printed on her doorstep. Step inside her home and you're offered a drink, a meal and do you need a bathing suit?, there's an extra one in the closet. Her sense of style, her amazing collections, her ability to gather an old desk, a vintage day bed and a beautiful antique chair and make a room feel like the old country, is amazing. She owns a great shop in Hollywood where her sense of style is broadcast to the world (though, for some, a bit too quietly: there's no real hours, but they're open on Fridays now). She's written books and done the occasional magazine interview, but the latest and greatest news is the one where she's brought herself into the current day. My excitement about creating an Etsy shop was equal to, if not surpassed by, the fact that Kaari is finally blogging. Now, those of us who can't actually live in her home, we can finally live in her world. For more than a few short sentences, a good number of great ideas, and some fantastic photos, you're transported into Kaari's thought process. I, for one, am thrilled about it. Even though I talk to her on a weekly basis, I'm still happily surprised by the posts. Even my mom, who was sitting right there with my sister and me today, in the shop, turned to the computer to read her blog!
I know most people are probably inundated with how many blogs they feel the need to keep up with....but, I'd still like to suggest one more to add to the list, The Warp and The Weft. You won't be sorry you did. And if you call me to see if you can come stay with us next time we're headed 'home', I won't be surprised...

Guess who's gone etsy?

I'm old fashioned.
I like writing with pencil versus pen.
I prefer typing on an old typewriter to a keyboard.
I like picking up an object in my hand instead of just seeing it online.
I like the old dial phones. Even better, I'd vote to go back to a party line where you just had to pick up the handle and yell, "Operator! Get me...."
I long for the days of old.

But, I live in the here and now. And in the here and now there are lots and lots of opportunities to spread the love on this little ole thing they call the internet.

Let me be brief--we can pull out the sparklers and beer later--I've opened an ETSY shop!!
I'm excited. I'm exhausted. I'm glad it's there. I'm happy to be a part of the future.
Operator! Get me Etsy!

Define A Year

It was my birthday on Sunday.
It made me realize I'd been writing this blog for over a year. I vaguely remembered writing about the positive aspect of getting older last year when it was my birthday. While I'm not sure I truly felt as good about getting older then as I do now, I'm glad I at least projected the positive attitude...for my own sake, really.
This year, this year is gonna be different. Not in a good or bad way, just different. It has to be. It's a new year. I've never really been one for New Years Eve or Day. It seems my job, teaching, or my age, whatever that may be, has defined what a "year" means to me. So, it's not January to December, it's September to June or April to April. It's constructed in my head that way, like a calender. In fact, I even buy a calender that is August to August...it just seems to make more sense. Besides, I find years ending and beginning in the dead of winter downright depressing.

Unlike my birth-week this year. Now, this was amazing! Dinners and parties and gifts galore all week long! It was over the top, but who could blame us? T and I had a double aries celebration and so many fabulous friends came and we partied like it was 1999 (Boy, was THAT a year!). Made it a real late one, turned the kitchen into a dance floor and stuck to a strict diet of champagne and cupcakes.
The weekend before that, I got to head to LA and do it all with my family, as well. My mom made my favorite dishes for dinner and a huge home-made lemon cake with squiggly candles on it.I got phonecalls and cards and flowers. It seemed to go on and on....like a good year should.

Library Love

I love libraries. I find them to be one of the last great historical institutions. I hope they never, ever go away. If you must: read all your newspapers on line, upload or download all your books onto one of those electronic book reader things (who cares if it can hold 18 books?! who can possibly read 18 books on vacation?!), and buy every best seller when it comes out. But, if you want an experience that is just a bit closer to the soul...head to the library. The small, neighborhood ones are the best. Though "main" libraries have something to show off (an art hanging, or fancy tables with bright lights) it's the little, tucked away ones that have the most heart. I don't buy books anymore. Well, not current ones anyway. I would buy an old copy of Atlas Shrugged, if I didn't already own two. Or, I might buy a great book for someone else... but, for the most part, I'm a library go-er.

I go in without a clue. I don't know what I'm looking for or what I'll find. I stroll through the isles like I've got all the time in the world (and really, I only enjoy going there if I do!). I scan the spines and look for a title that grabs me. If I like the look of the cover or the title, I take it off the shelf and read the first few pages. If the story doesn't grab me in the first few pages, I place it carefully back in it's spot for the next reader to find and move on. And I like to go alone. It's hard to judge 'library time' with someone else. Inevitably, one person is ready to go before the other and it might be right in the middle of a crucial isle scan or when you're in the depths of the reference books that can't be checked out and you're not walking away from that just 'cuz someone else is "bored." Bored? In a library? I don't get it.

I recently started going to a new branch. The branch that is nearest to me is closed for renovations for the next year or so. That was heartbreaking for me. I was in there a few weeks ago, doing what I do, when I walked to the counter with my arms full of books and asked about the return date (I'm still not used to the receipt-like-print-out and really miss the days of stamping the due date right into the front of the book--it just makes sense!). The guy behind the counter told me I'd get three weeks on the books but they were closing tomorrow. I felt tears well up in my eyes...

"WHAT?! What do you mean you're closing? What is this world coming to?! Gads! Why does everything good and old fashioned and community based have to end?! Why?!"
"Um, no, miss, we're just closing for a year or so, for renovations."

Just then, another local patron yelled across the room, "Yeah! If you don't like it, complain to the local (somebody or other). They're the ones ruining it for all of us! They're the ones closing the libraries just to fix them up!"

Well, I wanted to say, fixing up the library wouldn't be so bad. Would it? I mean, they're finally going to update the bathroom and that, my friend, is fairly important. That particular library's bathroom rates as the worst room I've ever been in. So, I decided to look on the bright side and find myself a new branch in the meantime.

Which brings me to the book I've just read and need to rave and rave about: Miranda July's No One Belongs Here More Than You.
Yes, yes, I know it came out last year. Heck, I even posted about it. But I didn't actually get around to reading it til now. And it is just wonderful. I knew it would be. I didn't even read the first few pages before checking it out. I just leaped and dove and started happily swimming in it immediately. Wow. I don't care what the nay-sayers say about her and her quirks. It was like this girl had mined my deepest thoughts and combined them with her own weird twist and type, type, type...there it all was on the page. I have one more story to read and my books are due on Friday (I've resigned myself to actually writing down the due date in my calender because I can't keep hanging onto that receipt!)and, I think, as a treat to myself, I'll save the last story to read in the library and then return the book. It's that good.

The other major bonus to heading to the local library these days: they're getting hipper! The card at the top of this post is my new library card. That's right! As I was sniffing around my new branch the other day, I came across this little sign that said I could turn in my old card for one of the new designs. I seized on that one p.d.q. and, now, I pull it out with pride. Everyone else is jealous of my new library card. I'm secretly hoping it'll make them all library go-ers too!

oskar's thought

What if the water that came out of the shower was treated with a chemical that responded to a combination of things, like your heartbeat, and your body temperature, and your brain waves, so that your skin changed color according to your mood? If you were extremely excited your skin would turn green, and if you were angry you'd turn red, obviously, and if you felt like shiitake you'd turn brown, and if you were blue you'd turn blue.

Everyone could know what everyone else felt, and we could be more careful with each other, because you'd never want to tell a person whose skin was purple that you're angry at her for being late, just like you would want to pat a pink person on the back and tell him, "Congratulations!"

Another reason it would be a good invention is that there are so many times when you know you're feeling a lot of something, but you don't know what the something is. Am I frustrated? Am I actually just panicky? And that confusion changes your mood, it becomes your mood, and you become a confused, gray person. But with the special water, you could look at your orange hands and think, I'm happy! That whole time I was actually happy! What a relief!

--My favorite excerpt from Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer

THE scrapbook to end all scrapbooks

THIS box was waiting for me in the lobby of my building when I got home from work today. Ohhhhhh, boy! A box this size doesn't often land on my doorstep, so I was thrilled to get it inside and rip it open.I had an inkling it was from my Aunt Joycie, who wrote me a couple of weeks ago and asked if I'd be interested in her grandmother's scrapbook. Now, when someone offers me anything from their grandmother (or grandfather or old uncle or great-relative...), I jump at the chance of being the receiver of goods! Joycie told me she and her mother used to sit down together and spend hours looking through the book, turning each page carefully and talking bout what the stories might be behind each piece saved.
I carefully peeled back the cardboard edges and, I don't know if it was on purpose or not, when I opened the box, the first thing I saw, almost like it was sneaking out to say 'hello' was this tin-type photo.
I need to ask Joycie if one of these three women is her grandmother. I only own two tin-type photos, so I will add this to my tiny collection of "most important" things. On continuing to open the box, I came to the prize itself. This is the cover of what I'm now calling 'the original scrapbook' scrapbook. This woman didn't just save things and toss them between pages. She lovingly pasted stories together.
I couldn't stop taking photos of the pages, but knew I had to....So, here's a few to start with...


I'm actually quite speechless about the whole thing. If you're a paper lover like me, this is something you search for at every estate sale, flea market or antique store you go to...and here it is, page after page, filled with these old german cut out cards, and fur-lined dresses on women, and old soap ads that are actually photos turned into postcards....

I've got hours ahead of me to spend peering into these pages. And, all the while, I'll be thinking about Joycie's grandmother, too.

small world, big work

It's really fantastic, this flickr thing and blogger and etsy, all of it available to the whole world. But, it's a whole 'nother thing keeping up with it all! I'm really wrapping my head around an etsy shop (coming soon) but need to take really good photos of my work. In the meantime, I've just completed the feat of putting photos up on flickr. Not a huge task, but one i'm glad i've got under my belt for today!

I never did blog about the solo show I had at Candystore, A Certain Destiny...but some of my friends did... Thank you Ashley, Thank you Danica!

It was a wonderful experience, a really great night, a super turn out, a family-affair, and I sold a whole lot of work that night and thru that month. So, I figured, a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll leave it at that. You can see photos here.

Bloomin' Excellent!

To whom it may concern:
It is springtime. It is late afternoon.
--Kurt Vonnegut

I've recently pulled out my cannon AE1 (thank you, pop!) and started shooting again. The weight of the camera, the loud click when a photo snaps, looking through the lens and actually setting up what you're seeing to capture it just the way you'd like...it makes it all worth it. Here are some fruits of my (enjoyable) labor. Click on any of the photos to see them bigger in another window.

And you can see more photos from my spring fling in good ole SF, here.

Mira y Recuerdo

I was riding the bus this week and just behind the driver, sat another driver riding as a passenger. A little boy got on the bus and was being totally belligerent to his mother (who really was letting herself be walked all over like a doormat). This bus-driver-as-passenger watched this kid, aghast, tearing apart bits and pieces of the bus. When it was time for them to exit the bus, the kid stood adamantly in the door screaming bloody murder for a "libelo" (well, that's what it sounded like to me). The bus driver, very good natured, kept trying to figure out what he wanted--a rubber band? a coin? another ride? what?! He finally held out a transfer/ticket to the kid and the hysterical crying stopped on a dime. Transfer in hand, he happily exited the bus and those of us who'd been waiting it out, well, we were finally on our way.

"man..." said the observer-driver-as-passenger

"I know, man, it's the clientele! When I have to psyche myself up to come to work, it's not because of the job, man, it's the clientele!" said the driver

"Well, sitting back here watching it all, it becomes very clear...it's the clientele!" said the driver-passenger

They threw that idea back and forth for awhile longer, much to my amusement. I agree!, I wanted to shout out to them, it's always the clientele!

Everywhere you go, as long as you are very, very observant, you start to realize it's not always the experience itself, but it's the people around you, who you're having that experience with, that makes it what it is.

photo taken from here.

The Hare and The Hounds

We got down to bid-ness last weekend with the Hare and Hounds show. It was a perfect day for a gallery, art-scavenger hunt. Curated by two very clever local boys, mike and dave, this was a show for the masses. 50 different artists created a piece of work to hang on one wall of the gallery. This piece was to show the public what kind of work you generally do. Then, we each made another piece of work to hang somewhere in the Mission District, in public, and devised a map to go along with it. Whoever decided they wanted to find that second piece of art, bought the map and went a-hunting for it! The hunt started at noon, and I got there at noon-o-two, i think, and my map was gone! I was thrilled, of course, but we all waited with baited breath...wondering who bought it, what he'd think, would he follow all the instructions?

I made a map that was like a little book with two sleeves inside. The book cover I used was called "The Hunting of the Snark" (so i decided to call my "public" piece of artwork 'the snark'). It came with a polaroid camera and the buyer was instructed to have photos taken of themselves along the way. I "hid" my piece just two doors down from the gallery, in the corner bodega, that's owned by this really fantastic family.

I had gone in to the bodega that morning to ask Mohammed if it would be okay for him to be part of this. His job was simple: in a few hours or so, someone, a man or woman, would come in and show him a card that says, "thats for me" and he would hand them the piece of artwork. The person then had to take his/her photo with them. He was into it. The plan was set!

So, even though my piece was close to the gallery, I wanted my map buyer to have an adventure. Get to know the city a little better. So, I sent them on a many-stopped tour of about six blocks and rounded them back to where they started.
Here are some highlights from the map I made:
the inside of the book had one pocket with the instructions, and another pocket with a tie, to store all the polaroids, once they were shot

(you can click on any of the photos and see them bigger)
He had to go into Candystore on 16th street and give them a ticket, and they handed him an old jack of diamonds card clothespined to a little velum envelope, inside that, I'd typed on an old journal page: 'in the game of hearts, jack of diamonds is a really, really good card'
when he went to Adobe bookstore, he had to find a certain book, open it to page 88...where he found this note (below) tucked inside


I truly lucked out with my 'art patron', who's name is Dave. When I met him at the end of his hunt, with art piece, map/book, and polaroid camera in hand, he was smiling from ear to ear. And so was I. It was really thrilling to hear him tell me about his trip and how he'd never been in Adobe Bookstore before & loved it. And how, at one point in my instructions, he was to write his name in chalk on the sidewalk (but I'd forgotten to include chalk!) and he looked down and there was a tiny piece of chalk on the ground...he picked it up and wrote, dave was here. He showed me all his photos and then turned the map/book, and piece of work back into the gallery.

You, too, can enjoy the fruits of others labor: All work will be hanging in the gallery thru the 22nd of March.

*The polaroids above are just a sampling from my day, not shots from Dave's hunt. But I hope to get to the gallery and take photos of all the great work there!*

happily ever after...

It was RK's birthday last week and I wanted to make him something, because there's really nothing I could buy for him that he couln't buy for himself. That makes mass-consumption-goods not quite as exciting. So, I had been given this little metal bike by my friend mike and he told me I absolutely had to make something with it. I knew right away I'd make a box piece for RK.

Bikes play a pretty big part in our relationship.
In NY, I used to ride my bike over to his work on a weekly basis and always felt like an explorer as I set out on my adventures to talk to the boy I crushed on. When we were dating, we'd spend most weekends riding around the city, with no real destination, just the wind blowing through our hair. There's a series of photos, somewhere, that we took of each other while riding. We look so young, so carefree. And when RK came over to my apartment for the first time we made dinner together, he walked into my living room and saw this huge bike painting and he thought he was either being set up by the FBI (we had too many beautiful things in common for it to be real, it seemed) or that he'd just met the woman he was going to marry. Lucky for me, the FBI fear faded quickly, and the marriage wasn't far off.

So, for his birthday this year, I made him this:

it says, "this is a story of a boy and a girl, who fell in love because of a bicycle"
and you turn the scroll to reveal the bike...
you turn the scroll again (it's a two handed kind of thing) and it says, "...and they lived happily ever after"

Fair, Inc.

I found this little scrap of paper on the floor of one of my fourth grade classrooms. It was too good to pass up. A simple question deserves a simple answer.