Do not be afraid by what is obscured by a tree

It's Thursday morning, precisely half-way through the month of January, and approximately 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside my office walls. Chilly, sleepy, but happy to be here. 

These are some words I found on one of my favorite sites, lunch poems. 

They are a gentle push, a knowing nudge into something a little more human and alive on this winter's morning. These come from Activity Book, a chapbook by poet & musician, Kelly Schirmann, and I'm ready to read more.

>>>>  Here's to good vibes and inspired words on this winter's Thursday.  <<<<

Cheers, xo

Good Reads

I'm lucky enough to be a member of the world's coolest book group. Why the coolest, you might ask? To be fair, I've never been a regular participant in any book group until this past year, but the consistency and accountability alone make this group one that works really well for me. We also have some lovely ladies who bring their humor, insight, and great energy to our meetings.

The structure is also very simple: We pick a book for each month, we read it over the course of the month, and then we take turns hosting the group, meeting, and chatting at our respective homes. We're a group of about ten, sometimes fewer when one of us has another commitment, which is always okay. We are not a stressful group. We allow for life to happen and flexibility is always generously granted. We have, on occasion, been known to meet in a wine bar, and this worked out nicely as well.

I suppose that, in all fairness, it's hard to say anything is the best when I've very little ground for comparison, but let's just say that being around this lovely group, chatting with them about what we've read while sipping a little wine and nibbling cheese, is exactly what I need in my life.

It's also a once a month commitment, which is about all I can comfortably sign up for these days, as my free time feels a little stretched after work. But even when I'm looking at the clock on book group days thinking, 'how am I going to have energy for two more hours of talking?' (I already do a lot of talking at my job to begin with), I always feel like something in me has been restored or validated after I meet with these ladies.

Maybe it's just the chance to talk about good writing, how a narrative is built, how lines move us into a new perspective, all of it reminding me of grad school and the work we are all so deeply invested in, and that this very important work isn't so very far away from us. Many of the women in our group are also writers, so a shared appreciation of the craft is indeed a happy addition to the experience. And usually our group meets on Thursdays, and I happen to like Thursdays quite a bit.

Tomorrow we will gather to discuss Nobody Is Ever Missing by Catherine Lacey, a novel about about a young woman who essentially runs away from her life and husband in New York and flies to New Zealand, where she hitchhikes from one town to the next, without a plan or any sense of when or where she'll land. She frequently moves in and out of  haunting memories from her past, fixating on her relationship with her mother and her husband, her sister's tragic death, and as she travels, she makes attempts at unraveling the mess that's followed her up to this point in her adult life, but rather than find a sense of peace in her escape, she seems to only be descending further and further into a very dark, fragmented reality.

While her emotional and mental stability are tenuous at best, making the narrative one that becomes a bit surreal at times, as readers, we desperately want her to land, to find safety and human connection, even after she repeatedly tells us that human connection for her is impossible. And it's so good. So very dark and so very good. I'm excited to hear what others in my group have to say.

In case you're curious, here are a few of my favorite books that we've read and discussed over the past few months. I have to say, if you're considering joining a book group, or if you're already in one, you may agree that picking the books is often the hardest part. We've found that bringing a list of options to the meeting (often books we've been wanting to read or that we've been reading about) is a good way to lay all of our ideas in front of us, and then decide which one sounds right for each month.

We've been pretty happy with the results so far:

               

                                                        The Waves, by Virginia Woolf

                                            Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Stone Mattress, by Margaret Atwood

                                The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher, by Hilary Mantel

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, by Karen Joy Fowler

Are you or have you ever been in a book group? What have your experiences been? 

And what are you reading? I would love to hear.  Cheers, xo

Emotional Excess & Creativity

The students have returned from their long winter break, and things are very busy around the University this week with meetings and appointments throughout the day. It's been difficult to steal away, but I wanted to give a little update to last week's post about setting aside writing time as part of my Daily Routines, and my hope pledge, to commit more time to my creative life this year.

Here's what I observed about last week:

The evenings after work are tough. While I did make some time to go back and read through work I've already written, making small edits and tweaks here and there, it was also the case that two of the evenings last week were devoted to other obligations--a much needed haircut, cleaning the bathroom, and a few other perfectly unglamorous, but necessary tasks.

I also learned this: I am good for an hour at most after work and then I need to be done for the day.

But, the good news is this: I wrote on both Saturday and Sunday for a stretch of time (even longer on Sunday--about three hours), and I believe I have a piece (one that's about a year old now) finally ready for submission.

And this feels very, very good.

In my ongoing pursuit of words, voices, conversations and advice about how artists find balance and nourish and nurture their craft, I stumbled upon some of the coolest pieces collected by Maria Papova, the author and curator of all things creative at www.Brainpickings.org.

Maria devotes quite a bit of page space to creative collaboration and the meditations of artists on the practice of feeding one's mind, heart, spirit, and creative energy. There's so much good stuff on this site (I'm excited to keep exploring), but one piece that really stuck with me is from Anais Nin, called, "Why Emotional Excess is Essential to Creativity." Yes! Because it is. This is a beautiful excerpt from the fourth volume of Nin's diary:

You must not fear, hold back, count or be a miser with your thoughts and feelings. It is also true that creation comes from an overflow, so you have to learn to intake, to imbibe, to nourish yourself and not be afraid of fullness. The fullness is like a tidal wave which then carries you, sweeps you into experience and into writing. Permit yourself to flow and overflow, allow for the rise in temperature, all the expansions and intensifications. Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them. If it seems to you that I move in a world of certitudes, you, par contre, must benefit from the great privilege of youth, which is that you move in a world of mysteries. But both must be ruled by faith.

Check out more brainpickings here. Hope your week is off to a happy, inspired start.

Cheers!

(top photo: www.workspaces.tumblr.com--thanks!)

Shadow Play

When Joe and I were recently in our favorite coffee shop to pick up some thank you cards, I also discovered this beautiful collection of art: Kinfolk Magazine's winter issue. I know I've seen Kinfolk before, I believe I've admired their work online at some point, but never had I seen the publication in person, and let me tell you, in case you're new to Kinfolk too:  it's so very lovely. 

On this particular outing, the sun had already set for the day, it was dark and cold outside, and I was feeling a little sad that my short winter break was nearing its end. But alas, I stumbled upon the perfect cards and this magazine, and felt a wave of caffeinated excitement, often attendant with any Atticus visit. The people in this cafe are welcoming, funny, and easy to chat with, and the space is super sweet and cozy. 

Picture this: exposed brick walls, low lights, the smell of good espresso, and (mostly) good natured, local Spokane folk milling about, reading, or sipping drinks with friends--it's a warm sight to behold. And yes, under its influence, I tend to enjoy more flights-of-fancy purchases than I might anywhere else. 

It's okay. I love the owners and I love what they do for this town.

But I'm not actually writing about our beloved Atticus today (okay, I am, but not exclusively). What I didn't notice until I began leafing through the magazine at home, is that probably three quarters of the way through there's a feature on Solstice traditions and folklore--specifically surrounding the mysterious, dancing lights that certain northern countries witness during the coldest, shortest days of the year:

“They believed the aurora was caused by the reflections of light off the scales of large shoals of fish”

The thing is, I have a fascination and deep admiration for the art of shadow puppetry--its stark, silvery nature feels both haunting and arresting--and in a lovely pairing between folklore and this ancient form of storytelling, the fine editors of Kinfolk share the varied origin stories for how the Northern Lights came to be. Here are a few:

Finnish

This northern nation still calls the aurora borealis revontulet, which literally translates to “fox fire.” Legend says that an arctic fox dashed across the tundra swiping snow up into the sky, while others claim his bushy tail caused sparks when brushing the peaks of tall mountains.

Norse

According to Norse mythology, female spirits called Valkyries chose who lived and died in battle. They escorted the most heroic who fell to Valhalla, the “hall of the slain,” which was overseen by Odin. The Vikings believed the lights were the reflection of the Valkyries’ armor and shields as they led the dead to their final resting place.

Danish

Danish legend speaks of the swans that held a competition to see who could fly the farthest north. Some birds became caught in the ice and tried to escape by flapping their wings. This flurry produced the waves of the aurora borealis.

See the gorgeous slide show and read a few more tales here.

I have a dream of playing with shadow puppetry and pairing it with one of my own or one of my favorite short stories some day. I've witnessed it before at an AWP (Associate Writing Programs) Conference a few years ago, and I was truly moved--it felt like such a breakthrough for adding this gorgeous element to one's narrative.

Seeing it here in Kinfolk is a treat, and a source of renewed inspiration for giving it a try someday soon.

Happy Friday to you! May you enjoy a restful weekend.

(top photo: indypendent-thinking.tumblr.com)

Scatter: Artist Reflections

19. Never!

                                Image credits: Korneel Jeuken

Salman Rushdie has these words in response to Wednesday's attack on the offices of Charlie Hebdo:

Religion, a mediaeval form of unreason, when combined with modern weaponry becomes a real threat to our freedoms. This religious totalitarianism has caused a deadly mutation in the heart of Islam and we see the tragic consequences in Paris today. I stand with Charlie Hebdo, as we all must, to defend the art of satire, which has always been a force for liberty and against tyranny, dishonesty and stupidity. ‘Respect for religion’ has become a code phrase meaning ‘fear of religion.’ Religions, like all other ideas, deserve criticism, satire, and, yes, our fearless disrespect.

Other artist responses:

2. Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

        Image credits: Banksy

15.

         Image credits: Orgulloy Satisfaccion

23. Without humor we are all dead

    Image credits: New York Times

See more powerful reactions here.

As I reflect on yesterday's attack and the tragic chronology of violence we've witnessed over the years in the name of religion, I have many questions--indeed many more questions than answers.

What I know and believe is that this work--the socially engaged, critical expression of all artists--helps to keep us from turning completely inward, from shutting down and retreating into the narrow confines of our own limited thinking, helps us stave off complacency, and does ultimately promote change.

I stand with Charlie Hebdo and I hope for peace.

(Images via www.demilked.com--thank you.)

Daily Routines: Part Rant / Part Plan

I've been mesmerized by this chart found in Mason Currey's book Daily Rituals: How Artists Work. What I find admirable {and hopefully imitable} are the incredible blocks of time these artists devote or devoted to their "creative work." Look at all of that pink! Perhaps even more interesting is when and where the green "day job" time takes place. Some of these artists weave their day jobs into their schedules in bursts of a few hours at a time, others manage to make their creative work their full-time job, Okay, duly noted. This will be my next book purchase.

It's often said that one of the most important skills to hone as a writer has little to do with the craft itself, but the sheer discipline to devote time to the craft everyday.

And it's the real kicker of the trade: how does one call herself a writer if she doesn't make time to do it? Ouch. There's truth in this of course, but there's also the truth that no single artist is going to have exactly the same creative rhythm as another, and there may be large gaps here and there. I take comfort in this. I think it's also important to be kind and patient with one's self. There's really no other option when thinking about time, the passing of it, and the unfinished story or novel that sits, waiting for us to return...

While I'm not one who typically fixates on New Year's resolutions, there certainly is something to be said for periodically taking stock of what's working and what's maybe not working so well in a daily/weekly/monthly routine, and determining where change might take place.

As a writer and the occasional crafter, the question of how to find balance between the work I do for money from 8-5, and the work I do to for me, is one I face everyday. It's true for me that when I work on my stories and make a little headway, or particularly when I start something new and feel the first few lines pulsing on the page, a narrative slowly unfolding, sometimes three, four hours of writing tucked under my belt--this is when I know through and through that I've done my day's work. I sleep better, I feel lighter, happier, and more peaceful. I feel like me. When I write, I know that I'm nourishing a very important part of myself, which is a way of honoring who I am.

What is also true, is that at the end of a work day at my 8-5 job, I don't have much left in me for creative output. What I crave is a glass of wine, reading my current book group book, catching up on my favorite blogs, and most importantly, eating food and sharing my day's stories and experiences with my partner. And this is just fine. It's wonderful in fact. The balance of my current workday can easily be broken up into the following pattern: wake up, work, exercise, work, come home, unwind, sleep (hopefully). One could look at my pattern and say, "Yes. That's what it means to be a contributing member of society. You do those things in that order." Fine and good.

But something big is certainly missing for me when my creative time is absent.

Our daily rhythms are essential to our sense of well-being. When key elements such as sleep or food or say um, creative release, are thrown off or are suddenly removed, we often don't feel like ourselves. We don't recognize ourselves in the sequence of our own day, which can be a very, very disheartening experience.

Sometimes I imagine it like this: If someone were to hold a mirror up to me at any given point throughout the day, how many times would I see my reflection and say, "Yeah, totally. This is me. This is what I do. I love this," and how often might I respond, "Oh, yeah. This doesn't really feed me, you know, spiritually, creatively, or otherwise, but it's what feeds me. I earn money for this."

All of this to say that when I really take stock, it's evident to me that weekends and holidays, and anytime maybe in the middle of the night when I'm not sleeping (because perhaps I'm restless and feeling as though my day's work isn't quite done), are all times when my creative self needs some time. And this isn't simple. Truthfully, I'm kind of a busybody, and when I've been at my desk for long stretches of time during the week, what I crave less than anything, is more time at my desk, even if it's for writing this very important-to-me thing.

But alas, this becomes the challenge: How can I add some additional writing hours to the week so that I'm feeling just a little more balanced? Drastic changes aren't easy to follow, nor are they very sustainable, but what about an hour in the evenings? What about three hours on Saturday? Maybe three hours on Sunday?

Maybe just start with an hour on the weekends and see if I can turn it into three? This might be a manageable task just to see what carving time out does to my sense of well-being as an artist/writer. I'll keep you posted (and keep myself accountable) here in this space, and as far as timeline?

In true new year spirit: I'll begin today (as soon as I'm home from the day job).

Please feel free to stay tuned for updates & a very happy Tuesday to you!

(thanks to Colassal and calmingcalamity.tumblr.com)

DIY Puppies

I have a confession: I really, really want a puppy. I realize I'm nowhere near the first to feel this way, and I know there's a very good reason there are thousands of blogs and Youtube videos devoted to capturing canine cuteness, but be that as it may, I'm adding my voice to the masses on this one. I adore pups. I'm smitten with their velvety ears, their heartbreaking little faces, their sweet puppy love, and their paws. Oh their paws!

But, because of living arrangements and my current work schedule, dog ownership is not necessarily in the cards right now. Not yet. For the last couple of years, ever since my puppy-fever really took hold, I've managed to adore dogs and puppies from afar, or if I'm lucky, I cuddle my friends' pups, which does indeed help.

And while this is not a post dedicated to the introduction of a new furry family member, it is in fact highlighting a very happy addition to the home! One of the best surprises this season did not come under the tree, but was gifted just days before Christmas when Joe came home and couldn't wait until the holiday to give me this:

That's right. It's a book that teaches you how to make your very own tiny pup! Doesn't that little face look real? I was thrown at first--the pups are so intricate and expertly crafted in the pictures--but when I leafed through the pages, I saw that in fact the author, Chie Hayano gives very detailed and often funny instructions on how to craft twelve different breeds of pups--no bigger than the size of your hand. Amazing.

The pup on the cover is a longcoat chihuahua named Milk, and he is probably the first one I'll make once I'm ready to tackle my next craft project.

For those who don't know me well, this isn't nearly as random as it may seem. I have a new and growing interest in making softies, puppets, and small creatures, in all kinds of materials. I've made a few things so far, but nothing this tiny--not yet.

I still need to fetch some essential crafting materials for these guys (little eyes, some faux fur, special thread), but until then, and before I have anything of my own to showcase, here are some adorable handmade inspiration pups from Etsy:

Miniature Bulldog by Willane

Mini Spotted Dog and Rust and White pup  by Walking Olive

Felted Husky and Schnauzer by Dr Nancy's Felted Pets

Here's to bringing puppies into the home in 2015, and to lots of crafting/diy-ing in the near future! 

Cheers! xo

(top photo via buzzfeed--thank you)

Scatter: Inspiration

This sweet photo, "Orangutan in the Rain" is from a collection of the eighteen best entries to the Sony World Photography Awards. This is what photographer, Andrew Suryano, had to say about the moment:
“I was taking pictures of some Orangutans in Bali and then it started to rain. Just before I put my camera away, I saw this Orangutan took a banana leaf and put it on top on his head to protect himself from the rain! I immediately used my DSLR and telephoto lens to preserve this magic moment. Image location: Bali, Indonesia” 

Here are a couple more:

Times Are Hard for Dreamers

“Woman suspended in a mass of feathers.” Photo by Ahmad Zikri Mohamad Zuki, Malaysia

 Holi

“Hindu devotees throw vivid color at each other to celebrate the start of spring during Lathmar Holi Festival. Hindu brahmans from the village of Nandgaon are covered in colored powder as they sit and sing on the floor during prayers.” Photo by Ioulia Chvetsova, France

See more here.

And, on a slightly different note, Girls Illustrated by Nina Cosford: Yes.

And because I can't stop looking at them, or dreaming about their little clay worlds, these amazing ceramic pieces from Etsy shops Coco & Pompon and Vesna Gusman ClayArt.

          This little guy is standing moute 399.

          Also, precious little Standing Moute 349

          And some of the sweetest little houses for our tiny ceramic friends:

Happy Friday everyone! I hope it's an inspired, restful weekend for you. I'm looking forward to a wintry walk outside, catching up with a dear friend, and working on a craft project for a special someone (updates coming soon). Stay warm, wherever you are. 

This Old Thing?

Simon Doonan's leggings. CreditAlly Lindsay  

A couple of weeks ago I talked about a book I was reading that explores all kinds of topics related to women and their thoughts/beliefs about clothing--sometimes very concretely, and other times in more abstract terms. And since then, or perhaps sort of always, I've had this question of clothing, history and how we attach ourselves to objects, rolling around my head.

Then, as I was reading through The New York Times Book Review last week, I discovered Emily Spivack's Worn Stories, a collection of 67 personal accounts from both men and women, some professional storytellers, some artists or musicians, who share their narratives of attachment to a particular garment or accessory in their lives.

But of course it's about more than the objects themselves (it always is), and from what I've read in excerpts so far, it seems evident that this is a touching anthology of stories from people who share in common a collective nostalgia, a connection with the relics of their past, whether a sweater or a pair of boots, all of whom are compelled to tell their stories, to let the world know that they have lived. The object is merely their proof.

This book is a timely discovery for me, as I'm confident it will be for many people, as we negotiate attachment and meaning and how these qualities are connected to the people we love and the objects they touch. There's a particular interest we all have in pieces that are passed down through generations, and how these objects in turn, bear similarity to ocean-worn glass: exquisite in their weathered state, and in a way, mythological with the history they hold.

As I get older, I'm more and more aware of the fact that for me, it's not necessarily newness that I want, but a sense of strength and armor--qualities that are only born of time.  Give me a streak or stain, a faded quality that speaks of time spent living, working, and growing a sense of purpose in the world. It's about character and endurance, and also about how eventually, we all have to let go.

As an avid thrifter and storyteller herself, I feel a strong personal connection to the mission behind Spivack's work.

Here are a couple of excerpts from Spivack's book:

Stephanie Diamond

Artist

New York, NY

A few months ago I brought my Calhoun School t-shirt into my psychic class for a reading. I believe that every person is born with an intuitive sense so I’d say I was born with this ability just like everybody else. In the last couple of years I have chosen to focus on bringing my own psychic abilities to the forefront of my life.

This t-shirt is the oldest thing I own and I got it when I was in the fourth grade.  I made sure to get an adult-sized extra large so I could wear it to sleep.  The package with the t-shirt was delivered to school and when I pulled my huge shirt out of the box, my teacher, Jolly, commented that I should consider ordering another one in my size.  With a large grin I disagreed with her. This was just my size...

Stephanie Diamond is a New York-based artist, adjunct professor, and community builder whose work has been shown at MASS MoCA, Bronx Museum of the Arts, Queens Museum of Art, MoMA/P.S.1, and the Studio Museum in Harlem. She started the Listings Projects, a housing and studios for rent e-newsletter that’s become a staple in the art community.

Raina Lee

Writer

Los Angeles, CA

I discovered the Sex Plug a few months after my mother had died. She left me my childhood house and a giant 3-car garage full of crazy stuff. The Sex Plug was stuck in a tangle of novelty necklaces left over from when my parents owned a gift shop in the early 80s. It was the kind of place that sold greeting cards, tin patina windmills, and other tchotchkes. My earliest memories are of driving to the gift shop every morning with my mom, listening to Chinese pop songs in her beat-up red BMW. My parents later went on to own a Fish ‘n Chips shop and an Italian pizzeria, so I frequently find restaurant supplies in our house too.

Earlier this year I started a blog about cleaning out my parents’ 35+ years of stuff, and the Sex Plug was one of the best things I’ve found. It’s a thrill to wear it out because it doesn’t make any sense– am I suppose to be the sexy thing that goes into an electrical socket? It’s a “male” plug so I feel like I’m gender crossing, although I’m not really sure.

I get a kick out of thinking about my parents having to handle the Sex Plug because they were conservative Chinese immigrants, just concerned with making it in this country. I find the Sex Plug a funny metaphor for how out of place they must have felt once they got here.

Raina blogs about what she uncovers in her garage at Infinite Garage Project and is the author of Hit Me With Your Best Shot: The Ultimate Guide to Karaoke Domination.

I'm intrigued and hope to get my hands on the book soon. 

Also, fun fact: Emily Spivack is the creator of Threaded, The Smithsonian's fashion blog, which is also full of fun, quirky pieces.  Well worth checking out here.

What are you reading these days? Any recommendations? 

(top photo via NY Times Book Review)

Monday Musings: Wallflowers

When I was four years old, we moved out of our green house on Walnut Street, and into the house I grew up in. It's a big home full of rooms and wall space, an ample backyard, and many stairs to climb between each floor. Our move was in the mid-eighties and wallpaper was a BIG deal. In fact, the look of big was a big deal--big prints, big hair, big suits with even bigger shoulder pads--they were all the rage. Some of us remember the color palette too--bright, bold, neon, jewel tones, and lots of black and white as we moved into the early 90's.

My mother, being a woman who loves color and pattern, and who was ever attentive to the styles and design trends of the time, took it upon herself to select wallpaper for each room of our new home, and then did the hard work of cutting and laying the paper against the walls--all by herself. I still remember her perched on a ladder, five months pregnant, finishing the blue floral walls of the nursery.

My sister and I shared a room back then, and at our request (I think it was our idea) it was papered in pink. A bright, Crayola crayon sort of pink. The quintessential "It's a Girl" pink. It remains this color still. There are flowers scattered throughout the pattern too, but truth be told, they have little voice against that bright hue.

I'll walk into that room now, usually just to jog my memory, I'll squint a little at first, and then I quietly turn off the light and close the door. It's not that I didn't love the space as a young person (I did, mostly), but now, I find the experience a tad jarring. That paper is a presence. It defines the room, wielding a power that I can't compete with as an adult.

The room wins, and that's okay. I don't sleep there anymore.

So I suppose I had lukewarm feelings for a while there, but in the last few years especially, wallpaper has reclaimed a new, happy place in my heart, particularly when it's a print or pattern that soothes, tells a story, or invites a newcomer to spend a little time interacting with the space.

The prints and patterns at Grow House Grow, a Brooklyn-based company founded by illustrator Katie Deedy, do just that--they transport you. Deedy specializes in "narrative-inspired" wallpaper design, and her inspiration board is one of the most beautiful Tumblr sites I've stumbled upon in the last year.

Check out more here:

Katie Deedy's wallpaper is printed by hand, and what I love about her story, in addition to her passion for storytelling, is that she started her business right out of own her kitchen--proof that creative goals can take shape anywhere, and at any time, if they're nurtured.

Here are a few of her prints:

Mesmerizing. Read more about Katie Deedy here. She also has some good advice for any aspiring artist. Have hope, my friends, the dream is possible.  Happy Monday!

(top photo: "Sun, Moon & Stars" via the International Center of Photography)