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

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)

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)

The Politics of Getting Dressed

I've been slowly easing my way through the pages of Women In Clothes. It's been more than a few weeks now. I'm taking my time not because it isn't a pleasure to read (it is), but because this is a different kind of book--one filled with a diverse range of voices and perspectives from artists, writers, mothers, daughters, sisters, actresses, teachers--all who reflect on topics related back to clothing. In certain instances, it's one woman's meditation on a dress, how the dress came into her life, how she feels when she wears it, and how she imagines herself interacting with the world in its armor. Sometimes it's a photo journal of someone's sock collection.

But the book is less about the clothes themselves, and more a reflection on how the women feel about their own experience, their mood, and their relationship to the garment. The book is, at least in part, about how women imbue their clothing with signification--how meaning is located in the person who wears each piece, and how she thus transfers a kind of energy into the garment, and seldom the other way around, unless it's a garment or accessory that's been passed down.

But this isn't the only focus of the text, because clothing always has a history before it reaches our fingertips. The book also explores more political avenues of inquiry--examining where our clothing comes from, what it costs to make it, and what about the woman behind the sewing machine who stitches together our bras? What is she wearing? What does her shirt mean to her?  How does she choose her clothing, and what does she think about as she makes the clothing that eventually lands in our closets?

While we may have layered connections to the shirts and jeans we choose in the morning, it's difficult to ignore the separation we often have from their origins. What does it mean that these items are largely imported rather than made on domestic soil, and how do we reconcile the fact that a good portion of these goods are becoming increasingly disposable to us?

As a grad student I loved the presence of H&M and Forever 21 as options for finding sweaters and dresses that fit the bill, but which I could also afford. I thrifted quite a bit during this time too, as I do now, but if I was buying something new, I tended to go to one of these two places or the GAP. But this is rapidly changing for me. It has become increasingly difficult for me to feel good about stepping into these stores, smelling the off-gas of factory chemicals lingering in the air, and then purchasing a synthetic, chunky knit sweater for $22 that will surely pill in a matter of weeks.

More than this, I can no longer ignore the fact that these goods are produced in factories that underpay their workers and contribute to a growing human rights and ecological crisis. Mass-produced clothing causes pollution, and the people spending hours in these hot, poorly-ventilated rooms, breathing in chemicals and tiny pieces of fabric are subject to health problems.

These thoughts, questions, interviews, and revelations (and yes, it's all in there) lead up to a manifesto, about half-way through the book. Turn the page, and suddenly there's a black background, the text is green, the font sterile, and as I read it, I had goosebumps--it's haunting, some of the language here--but also refreshingly honest and inspired. Getting dressed is political, and most of us do have a choice in the matter. For some, it isn't as much a choice as it is an ethical dilemma that demands restraint when it comes to purchasing more.

The manifesto is from Margaux Williamson, (one of the many contributors), and it's called "How to Dress in Our New World."

A few excerpts:

9.  So now if you find a T-shirt on the street and it is 100% cotton, maybe it is time to put it on. That is a great find, to find cotton on the street, so far away from the fields. And though it probably advertises a bad system that you don’t believe in, everyone knows from your face what’s in your heart. And besides, our personal investigations are as valuable as our speeches. See what it is like to match your face with the bad system. There are not so many vacations anymore but we still must go places.

11.  It might seem like, in the new world, clothes are nowhere to be found, but they are everywhere. In the dessert, at the funeral home, in the garbage.

12.  There will never not be enough clothes. We made so many. Galaxies of factories were born in the name of individuality. Our person to clothing ratio spiraled out of control and the resulting great piles of clothes made more visible the meaninglessness of our individual lives on earth.

18.  What we love now are worn things, things that have made it through experiences with what appear to be travel scars and thick skin. We think, these dull blue boots are strong, I can tell they have been to the woods and the jungle and the floods and the dinner. Maybe we can’t tell what the shoes mean, since we haven’t been there, but we know they are still here. Sometimes, not knowing the meaning is not meaninglessness, but love.

You may read her whole piece here.

I'm also reminded of this book from a couple of years ago. And this. I'm curious, what do you think about when you shop? Do you have a manifesto that helps you navigate these questions?