Let's give 'em somethin' to talk about

Hey y'all -- exciting news! I've been picked to be next month's Gypsy Bonfire contributor!

Now I know I don't have to tell you much about Lisa Hoffman. She's one of the journal contributors of True Colors: A Palette of Collaborative Art Journals. Actually, Lisa originated two journals; one was lost in the mail for a bit, so she started another. (Isn't that book like visual crack? Except without the need for rehab.)

On her blog, she has a section where she invites people to tell stories. The kind of stories you'd hear if you were actually hanging out in person. The idea is to provide a place where all us like-minded folks can get to know each other better, even if we never meet in person. So I dug up some pictures of when I was Skeeny (skinny as all get out) and coughed up a few words to string it all together. Lisa and I talked last Friday, and we're officially sharing all sorts of inappropriate information with each other. (Kidding!) Find out which story made the cut.

And tell everyone to tune in May first! Hey, that's May Day. (Try not to think too hard about what dancing around the maypole means.)

Last bits of Artfest

Show and Tell Night was probably even more of a madhouse than Vendor Night, because the rooms in which the art was spread out were more cramped. And of course people want to linger over pieces they like. But it was worth braving the crowd.

The idea is to give you a chance to see what everyone else has been working on in the previous days, and to give you ideas of what you might like to take next year. (Next year?! Can I recover from this year first?!)

I realized that I missed Michael de Meng's classes... I had a ton o' fun in his "Six Million Dollar Man" class back at Art & Soul.
His Morpheus Box class this time really appealed to me (the one in the center, next photo). I think it's the kinetic element -- look, it moves! It does tricks!
Oh, man, check out this artist's Woven Narrative. Coincidentally, I had tried something similar in my Someday artist book.
Anahata's Symbolic Icons still appeal to me, but I have to get over the "my stuff looks like a poor imitation of someone else's stuff" thing. This is how you learn, goofball.
I ran into Michael and complimented him on his collaborations with Judy Wilkenfeld, an artist who will floor you with her heritage-inspired works. (He's her beau, too.) Then he said, "hey, in a minute we're all going to go into another room and Judy's going to show her Twelve Tribes book. Do you want to see it?"

Um, no, I have to meet my crack dealer in ten minutes. OF COURSE I wanted to see it!
The book is an enormous, hand-bound, awe-inspiring artist book detailing the twelve tribes of ancient Israel -- you know, the sons of Jacob: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun, Benjamin, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher and Joseph. (Read her March 21st post to get the details.)
Every last detail contains meaning on each page. It's impressive if you don't know much biblical history, but it'll bring you to your knees if you've ever read the Bible's descriptions of each tribe. (Deryn, if you're reading this, you have got to see this on Judy's blog.)

I got a better chance to see the book myself when I went into Port Townsend the next day with Julie and Janine. Judy and Michael were showing it to one of the local gallery owners, and I took pictures of the page devoted to Asher.
Back when we were deciding what to name The Boy (yes, he has a real name), The Husband and I considered naming the baby Asher. It means "happy." (But then I remembered, our kid is half-black. Other black people will shorten his name to Ashy -- which is what black people call skin -- especially at the knees and elbows -- that's so dry it turns white. Um, no.)

Judy really appreciated what I remember of my Bible... I had piped up when she was describing the hand attached to the Benjamin page. Benjamin's mother Rachel, who died after giving birth to him, named him "Ben Oni", which means "my son." But her husband Jacob overruled that and named him Benjamin, which means "son of my right hand" in Hebrew. Judy actually used a left hand, for reasons I really wish I could remember... Oh, it's just so beautiful. Go look at Judy's pictures; they're far better than mine.
I could've stayed much longer, of course, but I had to get back to The Husband and The Boy and make sure they were still in their respective pieces. I didn't worry about them while I was gone, but then when I headed for the ferry home, suddenly I had to keep myself from imagining all sorts of catastrophes. So I distracted myself by thinking about sorting through all my trades...
and I headed home.

Artfest was wonderful, and wondrous, but until maybe today I felt like my innards were turned inside out. I guess it was the extended amount of time spent creatively exposed. I'm just now thinking of making something, anything, new.

Have I mentioned that you guys rock?

Well, you do. Submit to the pleasure and admit that you rock.

Thanks for reading and commenting. It means the world to me, and it makes me dig my virtual toe in the dirt with pleasure.

Yeah, I'm going there. And you're coming with me.

"Oh boy... she's going to talk about black people again." Yes, I am. No, you don't need a special permit to Go There with me.

Photo courtesy Julie Molina

You may have noticed in the second-to-last post that I said I was going to talk about the last day of classes, "and why all the black kids sit together in the cafeteria." (It's a reference to this book.)
I just had to bring it up when Amy Lee and I met Laren, who's wearing the purple scarf.

Photo courtesy Julie Molina

I said, "You know, if one more of us shows up at the bonfire, we're going to qualify as a mob." (This is a reference to an old, not-really-funny joke that white people think more than three African Americans in one location means the black people are about to form a mob, probably to seek out and mug white people.) We all laughed, but then I pushed it a little.

Now that I've pointed out the elephant in the room... why is it that there are hardly any people of color at these retreats?

I'm plenty used to being either the only African American, or one of less than ten, in a room. This has been my life throughout grade school, college and my working life, really. As a consequence, my circle of friends tends to look like a United Nations gathering.

But I still look around every so often to see if there are any other African Americans in class with me, like this lady who said she came all the way from Baltimore.

I counted. There were six black women at Artfest, including me.

Let's get a few things out of the way: I in no way think this is some sort of conspiracy to keep black people out of this milieu. Nor did I ever feel like a bug on display because of my skin color. And I don't expect these retreats to go looking for people of color.

It's just... why are we the only [black] ones here?

Unfortunately, I can't remember how Laren found out about Artfest. But I think Amy Lee said she'd read about Artfest in the back of one of the Stampington/Somerset arts magazines, in the conventions/events listings. She's also a graphic artist, so she's a bit more likely to run up against this kind of thing.

Amy Lee also mentioned something that seemed to ring true. She said that when she was in school as a kid, art was not really something black kids were encouraged to pursue, as a career or as a hobby. Parents, especially, were more concerned that you got an education that would help you support yourself. (I hear that kind of reasoning from my friends with immigrant parents, only more strongly than in my family.) So: graphic art major -- okay. Fine art major -- not okay.

And it's not just Artfest: at the last moment during Art & Soul last year, I looked around and saw maybe one or two other African American women there. Forget about African American men -- it's astounding to see any men, who aren't instructors, that is.

The Ever-Gorgeous Earl (lots of photos of him in this post at Ricë's blog) had noticed this phenom too. In particular, we wondered: if black women hardly ever come to these things, then where are they? At local dance clubs? Watching TV? (That was the option we thought most likely.) Too damn tired from work and family to do something like this?

The EGE is a black man from Midland, Texas, and not quite the profile of the rare man who does venture into these estrogen-laden venues. But he does because he's a thinker, and he's lots of fun (and because Ricë wouldn't have it any other way).

The best we could figure is maybe it's a combination of money issues, and comfort level with art. I mean, pitching close to $2K, in one shot, at what most outsiders would consider a hobby is something not many black people I know would do. They'd be more likely to recommend you have your head examined (another thing many black people are deeply resistant to doing. "Take
your troubles to God" is what you'd most likely hear, or some version of "suck it up, weenie.")

TV, on the other hand, is cheaper than traveling to any retreat or conference. (I myself spend quality time with our big-ass TV.) So is going dancing with your friends. And no one will call you "bougie" (bourgeois, snooty) or some kind of freakjob for doing either one.

I really don't know. But it bothers me sometimes that so many people who look like me have no idea Artfest exists, much less how much fun it is.

Last day of Artfest classes

Whew! Sorry for dropping out for a whole week with no explanation. I'd like to think I blog without obligation, but apparently that is just not the case. We did lose power over the weekend because it snowed (and yes, it was just OUR neighborhood; we saw everyone else's lights a-twinkling).
Anyway. Day three of Artfest classes had me in Bee Shay's "Handful of Curiosity" class, preparing a tiny little journal case and journal pages. How 'bout this for a sample?
First it was down to the beach, and its stinging wind, to collect anything that struck our fancy.
It could be rocks, driftwood, kelp...
(Yeah, those are all kelp. Even the center one: I was praying it wasn't a used condom. But it had this lovely deep red center, and wavy edges which made me think it was some sort of jellyfish.)
Even some little crab remains.

And then we headed back to class to think on what we'd collected, and why. Then we wrote our thoughts on heavy printmaking paper that we dyed with Adirondack re-inkers. I had all sorts of deep thoughts on the beach: the footprints/pawprints/bird tracks, side by side on the sand, making me think how we all share this little bitty planet...
I thought about jellyfish (because of the kelp I picked up) taking over the seas because of humans overfishing around the world... But most of that slid right off my brain due to fatigue, once we got settled back into the classroom. Such is life and Artfest.

Bee also taught us how to carve little stamps (I can see why that's so addictive), and how to pierce the lid of the tin to attach items on the front. And this was with a small hand-cranked drill, not a Dremel! (Maybe if I get one of those, I won't make so much dang noise at 12:30am making art. Nah.)

As usual, things seemed to click for me in class about 2.5 hours before we had to pack up, so I dashed madly to finish up. I had even less ability to think through the panic because I was so damn tired, so Bee kindly helped me finish the ties that keep the journal in place under the tin lid.

Then Bee and LK Ludwig took our (mostly) finished journals to Show and Tell, where everyone gets a chance to see what everyone else has been up to in their classes. One of mine is center row on the left... again, I was so bleary-eyed I didn't even notice my second tin was up in the right corner.
I managed to do one page in that journal before I had to throw myself into the other portions of class. Still amazed that I got anything done, much less two separate tins.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled Artfest coverage

Another of my new dorm-mates posted a comment -- the talented Celeste. You'll find her in one of the bonfire pictures in the previous Artfest post. I just love it when I know where to find y'all online!

Once again, I have no idea how I made it to Vendor Night, seeing's how I was so dog-tired after another full day of arting. But Morag and I made it to the big ol' hangar where it was being staged. You see why I say "staged" instead of "held":
These are people attending Artfest, as well as Port Townsend locals who were interested in the art. Yes, it was crowded, but not as slammed as the Vendor Night at Art & Soul in Portland, because that was in a couple of large hotel break-out rooms. Plus there was all that overhead space dissipating some of the body heat. So it was warm enough to make you take off your jacket, but not dance-club-crowded.

I made a couple of circuits, because there was no way to move like an assembly line -- people want to look more closely or chitchat with the artist. You had to get in where you could. So when the crowd eased a bit, I saw LK Ludwig close to the front:
Anahata Katkin, selling like crazy (I promised to post a good pic!):
Nina Bagley (she liked my calling card design!) and her pal Misty Mawn, right next door:
I took pics of the necklaces Nina made for both of them. Nina teased me about sneaking in a boob shot.
Catherine Witherell, parting with one of her articulated pendant lovelies:
She took a little time to browse through my artist book:
... and I took advantage of her weakness to scoot in and take a couple pix from the inside of the vendor ring.
Look! In the dark sweater -- a guy at Artfest who's not teaching! (You may have noticed these events tend to be, um, estrogen-rich.)

Another circuit... this time I ran into some of my friends, like Stacie:She's naughty. It says so right there.
And here's Kecia, my Art & Soul roomie. She's a trained professional, kids. Don't try this at home.
And Laren, trying on a necklace (she's on the left):

I knew going in that I probably wouldn't be able to afford anything; most everything I'd love to take home was at least $225 or more. Which is almost as much as an Artfest class. But surprise -- I did find a little something I could afford, at Pamela Huntington's table!
She made a little articulated circus acrobat, and gave him a wire tightrope to walk on. I love the doorknocker, and the text above:
And then I stayed up far later than I should've again, at the "afterparty" we had in our dorm. Someone even had those plastic bracelets they give you to enter a party, so we figured that made our "club" official. Lots of fun.

Next time, on Blogging Queen: Last day of classes, and why the black kids always eat together in the cafeteria.

Parade o' weirdness

Excuse me while I take a break from the Artfest love, so I can show you the random weirdness we encountered yesterday during our shopping trip to Costco.
The cell phone camera doesn't quite do justice to the eye-searing hue of this guy's windbreaker (for his sake, I assume this is a safety windbreaker). Believe it or not, I forgive him the go-to-hell pattern of his Hammer pants. He's old. They don't ride up on him. But the combination... Lord have mercy...

They came to Costco in this demure little putt-putt.
Yes, it's an H2 Hummer. With flags on every corner. Because toxic orange cars are so hard to pick out in the parking lot.

Oh, but the madness doesn't stop there. It stops at this house and the accompanying car.
We've seen this geodesic dome-style house before, and I like that it's such a throwback to the 70s. But I almost choked on my own spit when I saw the deLorean parked outside. All they need is the Back to the Future theme blaring from loudspeakers.

Why yes, it is, in fact, all about me.

Lots of fun in LK Ludwig's "This is Me" class. The above picture is printed on rice paper -- I still can't believe it turned out so well. I cut the paper down to 8.5x11 size, and set the "Properties" to "Other Specialty Papers." I also kept the other, regular papers in the printer to keep the rice paper closer to the feed part (does that make sense?) and held down the regular papers by hand while the rice paper fed through.

Basically, "This is Me" was an altered book class on self-portraiture. In the class materials, she asked us to print out pictures of ourselves on various types of paper, in various sizes. Here's one on photo paper that I painted with iridescent paint...
Textured paper...

Papyrus (the photo in the middle is of my mom in London)...
Even some regular color photocopies.

Then LK taught us how to alter them in various ways. Some I already knew how to do, like water transfers from crappy photo paper. But a new one on me was embedding photos in layers of sewing pattern and blank tissue paper.
The photos are on the next-to-last layer, stamped with a Michaels-type foam stamp, then covered with a blank sheet of tissue paper to pull them all together. So it's a very lightweight, dreamy kind of page; how thin it is depends on how many layers you use.

Another favorite: spraying patina onto brass or copper mesh. We used various items to create masks against the mesh pages.
LK also showed us a masking method that I used to draw my hand pointing. The lacy pattern is a second mask.LK had told us to think about various favorite expressions or sayings, a couple of which I decided to do on the mesh.
I wasn't expecting to finish the project, just learn the techniques, and I didn't. But it should turn into something pretty interesting, which I'll post when I've recovered from Artfest. This class was fairly stress-free, but the prep was kinda scary. I was just worried that I'd forget something, and I had no idea how to use some of the stuff. But it was a lot of fun.

Next post: Vendor Night madness.