Blogging Queen

I need better TV

2008-07-22T22:33:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I can't believe it either, Carter: I'm watching "I Survived a Japanese Gameshow." It's all your fault that "Eureka" doesn't start its new season until Tuesday.

I'm about to run out of "Dr. Who" next week. Besides the storylines, I'm going to miss David Tennant's hair and smile. (No smile in this photo, but the hair looks good and look -- Martha Jones! She's my alter ego.)
All that hair makes me forget he's got a Nutcracker nose/chin combo. Sometimes I even wonder what it'd be like to kiss an alien with two hearts. (It's not cheating if he's a Time Lord.) But at least Captain Jack and the Torchwood team will appear in the finale. Ah, Captain Jack: very hot, very prone to flirting with you and your brother.

At least "Stargate Atlantis" has started up again. The evil producers got rid of Sam and replaced her with... WOOLSEY. The asskickin' brainiac gets the boot, and the paper-pusher takes her place. Come on! He wasn't even a doctor on Star Trek: Voyager -- he was a hologram of a doctor! He can't lead a team off-world!

"Pushing Daisies" survived the writer's strike, but it doesn't come back until October first. (Good thing we don't watch much network TV anymore. It's mostly BBC America, SciFi, HBO On Demand and a few exceptions such as "My Name is Earl" and "ER.")

This should tell you something about my status as pregnant mother of a small boy who's rationing babysitter services: The closest we come to club-hopping is Saturday nights with "The Graham Norton Show." We watch other people drink and have clever conversation.

Wisdom for the ages

2008-07-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

"Never, ever shoot a gun full of spite."
-- The Boy, after The Husband explained that one should never do things out of spite because the attempt often backfires.

The Boy learned that lesson the hard way today. He thought telling Daddy he didn't want to go to a birthday party would punish Daddy for disciplining The Boy.

Wow. The Boy really doesn't know who he's dealing with.

Say my name

2008-07-19T17:27:00.000-07:00

I've decided to go with The Husband's suggestion of "TwoBoo."

When I was pregnant with The Boy, I referred to him as "BoobooFishie", which popped into my head after seeing him swimming around during an ultrasound. (Pregnancy hormones occasionally addle my acid wit.) We shortened it to Booboo after he was born. So, TwoBoo. Although it's possible I should change that to "Stomp" because all this fetal kicking means he's auditioning for "America's Best Dance Crew."

It's been tough coming up with a real name too. Part of the problem is that names we might've considered are all taken by The Boy's day care friends. Not that they'd be in the same room, of course. But I grew up with a name so common that at one point, I was "Number 6" in a particular group. And I can't tell you how much I loved it when I was single, and guys would tell me "oh yeah -- I had an ex-girlfriend named Lisa." No kidding.

Of course, there will be times when we just call the baby "Dude."

A new game

2008-07-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

Laurel brought up an excellent question that will become a pressing matter soon:

"... will the baby be known as The Other Boy? It doesn't seem very nice. Oh, what about the New Boy?"

She's right. I hadn't yet thought of a new nickname, so I'm gonna need help here. At the moment, El Bébé isn't really doing anything for me. For one thing, it'll have to be changed in a year or so. And I really don't feel like going to the character map to get the accents every time I mention him. (Ricë gets an exception to that rule.)

Oh, no actual names, please; we're going to keep that process closed even to the grandparents and siblings until his name is on the birth certificate. (Although I'm threatening The Husband that the kid will be named Aodh, a lovely Old Irish name that's pronounced "eh.")

Thoughts?

52 degrees, with thunderstorms

2008-07-03T10:58:00.000-07:00

Typical rain heading into the 4th of July weekend, but what's not-so-typical are the thunderstorms. They woke us -- and the dog -- up at 2:45am this morning. Right now the dog is in the garage, doing her noisy best to scare away the thunder. The Boy, of course, slept through it. Today we're allegedly going to hit a high of 69 degrees, possibly with more thunderstorms.

Good thing I didn't buy every last tank top in the maternity re-sale boutique last week, when it was in the 80s. (Don't mock me! That's hot up here!)

On the street where you live

2008-07-02T10:38:00.000-07:00

I just finished altering the second postcard I'm swapping with Tally. I'd been pressing it flat, what with all the matte medium and attachments and stuff on it, under some art books. And with This Thing Called Life taking some priority in the past couple o' weeks, I dang near forgot where I'd put it.

But then her latest postcard came in the mail, and that woke me up. Note the butterfly under wax below:
And the first one she sent (with a butterfly charm peeping through the window):She's been working on some personal changes, hence the butterflies. Which will happen, believe me. God bless her, she's got her own issues and doubts, but her drive to achieve her goals is awe-inspiring. We were talking the other day, and I reminded her it's been only about three years since I showed her the True Colors book of art journals. She'd always had an artistic side, but that really got her going.

So in the interim, she's started her own business of selling hand-made cards, then turned that into hand-designed (printed) cards that are now sold in certain Whole Foods stores. She teaches in some local art venues. Occasionally, she hosts a collaborative project. Oh, and she's had a baby during those past three years too. She's a bad mama-jama.

So this is the one Tally will get in the mail in a few days:
The "street" is a piece of this cool wax-coated, slightly translucent paper. I glued it down with matte medium, but I also had the brilliant idea to heat the wax on one side, so that it was more likely to stick. Ooh, that was fun! Pinned a transparency scrap to the cigarette card girl, then pinned them down to the card. Cut up some "houses" and connected them with fiber. I added a wash of greenish acrylic on the edges, to link it visually with the back.
This is how the back looked until this morning: mostly green paper swatches, overlaid with circular-patterned rice paper on one side and the acrylic wash. Today I added the text, starting with an excerpt from "My Fair Lady":
The maritime route lines on the map paper provided a natural space for the "My Fair Lady" lyrics:

Let the time go by
I won't care if I
Can be on the street where you live

I'd mentioned in a previous post that I wished everyone I cared about could live on the same street with me. One big honkin' street. No more flights, no drives across town, no elaborate scheduling just to see each other. Of course, it all gets complicated when I think of what that would actually be like, but the fantasy makes me very happy.

I can breathe now

2008-07-01T10:02:00.000-07:00

Aaaaaahhh... it's finally less than 88 degrees Fahrenheigt. (Don't mock me. I've gotten used to not having a normal summer.) Still wiped out and tore up, but here are some pix to hold you until I have more coherent thoughts.

The Boy and me at the strawberry farm two weekends ago-- when it was maybe 71 degrees:
Still thanking my local farmworkers. I do not want to crouch and kneel like that for a living.

No pictures from this weekend. Too hot to focus, plus The Boy was showing us the range of his three-year-old orneriness. I spent most of my time trying to control my temper when I wasn't wiping away under-boob sweat.

Speaking of being unreasonably hot, more news from PreggerLand: we found out we're going to have a boy! He "waved" to us during the ultrasound (his hand was next to his head, and he flexed his fingers a couple of times).

And because I run a side specialty in weirdness: see this cuddly little Cerberus I found at the book store:More soon.

You're going to hate me for this

2008-06-24T14:11:00.000-07:00

Current weather in my neck of the woods: 67 degrees and sunny. I keep forgetting it's summer.

Ooh, I can hear you from here: "You bitch!"

[mad cackling from me]

Later tonight I'll post pix of the jaunt The Boy and I took this weekend, when it was about 72 degrees. Don't worry, this won't last. It almost always rains on Independence Day.

Made another sale!

2008-06-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

Oh, I hope you weren't putting off buying this one from my Etsy store. It's gone, baby, gone!
My commission client remembered me, and came back for a little more. She bought this notebook for a friend's going-away gift. The best part: the client said, "I was thinking, 'oh, I'll just pick up a notebook at Barnes and Noble' and then I thought, 'wait, why don't I just call Lisa?' "

I'll be savoring that for a while.

Since I brought her a selection to look at in person, she bought it then, so I just took the notebook down from Etsy. However, I've re-listed some other notebooks, so see if there's anything you'd like to take home. You can click on the link in the first sentence of this post. Or use the Etsy widget on the right side of the page, and click on "YoLisaLisa."

Daddy's Day recap

2008-06-17T12:10:00.000-07:00

Wow, am I late with this recap. Well, we'll live.

That's how The Husband celebrated the reason why he gets Father's Day gifts: taking The Boy and me to The Boy's first movie theater movie. (The Husband got a couple of books -- that I will break in for him -- and a pedometer he'd actually considered on his own.)

We prepped The Boy for the experience, and he did really well. Went to the bathroom before and afterwards, had a few peanut M&M's, didn't get scared by the "fight" scenes (although he was a little worried that the bad guy was really going to hurt a few other characters), and no more than the usual loud-child's-voice-in-the-theater moments. But that's to be expected in a KID'S movie... anyone who was in there expecting peace and quiet was in the wrong damn showing.

Together with breakfast at our favorite local diner, it was a pretty swell day. Oh, and I remembered to get the cards to the fathers-in-law out in plenty of time. Bonus.

Oh. My. God.

2008-06-17T11:04:00.001-07:00

On the back of the can: "Promotes and restores sexual desire, improves circulation and sexual function. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease."

Ya think?

Oh, I just fell off my ass laughing at the packaging. Just wait until I go back to the store and take a picture of the "Sweet Love Rolls." I am not kidding about that name.
The Husband and I decided to investigate the offerings of this market that re-opened up the street from us. We thought it was going to be strictly fresh produce, but it's like the marvelous mega-ethnic market -- with a gigantic selection. Mexican/Central American, Asian (and I do mean all over Asia) and eastern European products, stuff I've seen or read about before as well as things I'd never seen. It was like being back in LA!

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

There were at least five different options to buy durian fruit, for example. Durian is a southeast Asian fruit that smells so strong (read: knock-you-on-your-ass stink) that Thailand doesn't allow

it to be carried on public transportation. Don't ask me why this man apparently didn't get that memo.Photo courtesy Wikipedia

It cannot be imported to this country unless it's frozen first. On my first visit to my father-in-law and stepmother-in-law's house, he served a durian and mango sticky rice dessert to see if I'd eat it.

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

The texture is like a kidney from a cadaver. I think. I don't eat zombie flesh, as a rule.

At the local market, they had thawed durian, whole frozen durian, two brands of frozen slices, and durian "essence," which I can only assume is used as a cooking ingredient/weapon.

The Husband just needed some Thai curry paste for Sunday dinner, and I grabbed a couple other things as well. What I really wanted to do was spend more time taking pictures of the various packagings... the non-alcoholic malt drink apparently made in a Greek monastery... the snacks with anime-style cartoons (Julie would just plotz in there!)... the preserved stuff that probably hasn't been approved for consumption by pregnant women and the elderly... the list goes on.

I ain't tryin' out that Aphrodite stuff until after I see my doctor next week.

Genius. Genius, I tell you

2008-06-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

The Boy is showing an interest in "reading" on his own, and he seems to have an inkling on counting things (especially the number of M&Ms that we occasionally dole out). So we started him in a phonics class and then a math class at day care last week, and apparently he's really enjoying himself. Nothing hard-core: the kids his age only do 20 minutes a day in these optional classes, which is about the length of any other activity they do.
My favorite comment on his progress: "He also enjoyed writing in his journal!"

I'm kvelling!

Tagged? I don't see anything on my big toe

2008-06-12T10:10:00.000-07:00

Catherine decided it was high time I got tagged again -- "because she is so funny I can hardly wait to read what she comes up with." I gotta come up with something good. Oh, the pressure...

Here are the rules:

1. Write the title to your own memoir using 6 words.

2. Post it on your blog.

3. Link to the person who tagged you.

4. Tag 5 more blogs.

Alrighty then. My memoir would start out with the title "High-Functioning?" You Must be Joking. But I think I'd change it to First Hundred Years: Always the Hardest.

Aaaack! I don't think I have the requisite number of blog friends who will play, but I think Tally and Laurel might be into it.

Thank you, Laurel!

2008-06-11T11:43:00.000-07:00

Laurel, aka Rueschka, sent me a lil' thank you for turning her on to Google Reader. She'd been looking for an easier-to-use RSS feed reader that would send her the latest posts from her favorite blogs. So I threw in my two cents, and voila.

It's a little hard to see even in person, but she stamped a beautiful sun on the patterned paper.
I'm not exactly an early adopter of technology, but I caved and took The Husband's suggestion to try Google Reader. It was like the first time you surf the internets on your own. Whee!
Look at all the pretties Laurel sent. Including a charm with my favorite mermaid on it.
This may be the one time I gave advice and was rewarded for it.

Let's just nip that in the bud.

2008-06-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

I don't care how cute they are. I don't care that the word's an endearment to some. No one is allowed to call my kid "monkey."

I just had one of those weird moments as an African American parent, where I had to shut down someone who meant well before they did any lasting damage to The Boy.

Today The Boy and I encountered someone who loves The Boy to pieces, someone who likes to steal kisses from his cheek, tickle him and generally tell him he's adorable. But this morning, she ran her fingers through The Boy's curls and greeted him with, "Hi, monkey!"

And instantly my brain broke in half. One half said, "it's just an endearment!" while struggling to block the other half from attacking the speaker. But the other half got free and, showing some restraint, opened my mouth to say, "I'd really appreciate you not calling him that."

The speaker was surprised (she's kinda young) and said, "Really?" "Anything but that," I replied. And the world continued spinning on its axis.

It's clear that she meant no harm, but she's also old enough to learn equating African Americans to monkeys is enough to get you sent to HR for a talking-to, at the very least. You don't have to look too far into the past to find someone calling black people monkeys. Go back, oh, less than a month.

Woman protests racial slur on t-shirts sold at bar in background.
Photo credit: Frank Niemeir, Atlanta Journal Constitution

And yet I felt like I'd been slightly harsh today. Even though I was just deflecting an unacceptable comment away from The Boy. Man, I wish I could talk to my parents right now.

A la weekend (On the weekend)

2008-06-09T09:52:00.000-07:00

I finished the page I made for The Boy's scrapbook. Lots of transfers and transparencies, and a few Mexican lotería cards too. I know that "El Catrín" means "guy" or "dandy", and that it has nothing to do with Hurricane Katrina, but I added it anyway. Elsewhere on the page, there's a transparency of The Boy over a pierced-heart lotería card... but it shows his face. (And when was the last time you saw an unblocked picture of The Boy? Not never. Right.)

The Boy was just over six months old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. (This satellite picture is printed on white rice paper with a swirl pattern.)
I kept up with the devastation only through listening to the radio in the mornings. Katrina hit not long after I left reporting, so I had some professional interest in the coverage. But I couldn't bring myself to watch on TV. Yes, The Boy was far too young to be watching any TV with me, let alone disaster coverage. But I have to admit I was too much of a chickenshit to expose myself to the misery of children.
Here I was, safe and sound, big ol' Costco boxes of baby diapers at hand whenever I needed them, and there babies were blistering in the heat and diaper rash, lucky to get anything they could digest.

At the time, I wasn't working, and The Husband was working exclusively on his websites, so more money was going out than coming into our household. We did send a donation to the American Red Cross, but I still felt guilty for not doing more. This is why I now take unused diapers to our local YWCA, since they take in battered women and children.

The page is probably a little, um, dark for a scrapbook about a child... but that's how I roll.

On the lighter side, The Boy wandered over to see what I was doing as I finished the page, and asked if he could play. So I helped him make his first ATCs with textured paper scraps. We used matte medium as a glue and sealer.
No shopping involved, minimal mess, and he got to play with Mommy's art supplies. Then he "signed" them on the back with a red Tombo marker. He was very reluctant to give up the pen, but Mommy insisted. (He should count himself lucky. Mommy's been very territorial ever since her brother used to break her crayons as a kid.)

Must start on the next postcard for Tally, and the fatbook page I promised my Artfest dorm buddy Kristie.

Contender for Best Husband Comment 2008

2008-05-29T12:06:00.000-07:00

Last night, I put away some of the clutter that's been smothering my workspace, as well as a few items I'd been "storing" in the play yard. (That's millennium-speak for "playpen.") There used to be a black recycling bag to the left of the white bag from Artfest. Not anymore.
The black bag had edged out this bag, forcing me to put it on another counter. (You might recognize this bag from last year's Art & Soul in Portland.) Prompting The Husband to say something like this:

"The longer other women are married, the more their asses expand. But the longer we're married, the more your art space expands."

See, that's love.

Relatively speaking

2008-05-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

Nana and Peepaw came up to see The Boy during Memorial Day weekend -- and so did Auntie Stacie, virtually speaking. The Husband arranged for a Skype video call to Dublin, so we could all talk over one another in the comfort of our respective homes. Look closely -- my kitchen will never be that clean again, at least until we have visitors.

Later that day, we headed out to the historic portion of Snohomish, a town north of Seattle.
The weather was supposed to falter by then, but we had a lovely stroll under sunny skies (!)...
... wandered by antique stores and late 19th-century architecture...
I'll definitely have to go back on my own when I have time to get lost in the stores.

Nana and Peepaw were also kind enough to babysit The Boy while we Went Out To A Movie [cue excited fanfare]. It was a toss-up between Iron Man and The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. We went with Caspian. For those of you who've read the original series, it was pretty good... mostly stuck to the original storyline as well, although some parts are obvious add-ons.
I'm glad they chose Peter Dinklage to play Trumpkin -- he does a great job of conveying the idea that all these humans around him are bizarrely tall and cheerful. The producers decided to make Caspian's people, the Telmarines, into Inquisition-era Spaniards, basically, in contrast with the bright and innocent, very English, World War II-era Pevensie children.

I tried to explain some of that to Nana and Peepaw, but The Husband deterred me from that. We have an understanding: The Husband and I are their favorite Incomprehensible but Friendly Geeks, and they're the Designated Normal People. And no, reading our respective blogs would probably not clear things up at all for Nana or Peepaw. So we smile and wave and send them home with pictures of The Boy.

Postcard on its way!

2008-05-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

Arrrgh -- I should've checked the picture of the postcard more closely before I sealed it up in the envelope. Made the mistake of using the old camera, which I haven't used in months. But I did sharpen it a bit in Photoshop. I'll have to ask Tally to take a better picture once she receives it.
Hey, say it with me: "Tally, can you take a better picture of the front, so we can see what it really looks like? Lisa's picture looks like crap."

The other side is covered with a crinkly dark green paper and pieces of sheet music-patterned paper. I then sealed the paper with slightly thinned matte medium and dried it with the heat tool. Next, the Golden Acrylics colors... I toned down some Cobalt Teal (a freebie I'd usually consider too garish) with Paynes Gray and a little bit of Phthalo Green (Blue Shade) to get a seawater color; dried that too. The last color was a wash of Iridescent Pearl (Fine). I used a Sharpie for the text. I knew the back would be impossible to shoot properly, what with the final wash. I was going for the same iridescence you see on a water bubble just before it pops. (Love that word, "iridescence." So much more evocative than "shimmer.") The text reads:

At night we swam together, him tossing me up with the waves and down into the current. I had not tamed him, he insisted. But he found my human oddities intriguing enough that the merman would not let me drown.

But one night, I chose to swim back to shore on my own. Let the waves overwhelm me, or let me drown, or maybe carry me home.

He was astonished, though he tried to hide it. The merman accused me of abandoning him like the sea spray flees the waves.

I reminded the merman that he was not tamed, and then swam the last few feet to the shore.

And now the postcard is off to the wilds of the Valley. You'd think it would take a day or two to travel a thousand miles, but I predict it'll reach Tally on Friday.

Somewhere, beyond the sea...

2008-05-19T11:13:00.000-07:00

Here are a couple of elements I'm thinking of using on the postcard I'm going to alter.
Ooh, I love this paper. Enough to marry it and not have our relationship recognized in most of the 50 states. It's even better than the navy blue and white version I found previously. Expensive as all get out, but delicious.

About a week ago, something about a merman floated into my head just before I fell asleep. I was thinking about events that happened years ago (it's fun to rewrite history!) and the storytelling started to flow. I don't know if I'll use everything, but you know how I like the lace paper...

... and the colored lights in that snippet look like the aurora borealis to me. Then yesterday, I went over to my pal Stacie's house and studio, and hung out with her and Amy Lee. I didn't have time to stay long and I was still sort of in art-freeze, but I could scribble down some ideas and pick out some elements in like-minded company. Which got my brain telling me, last night:

Get up and gesso the postcard. Nothing else. Just gesso the slick side of the postcard and let it dry.

Yes, I know they have medications for this kind of thing now.

But for once, the brain delivered its message without comment or judgment. So I did it without fussing about cleaning up my workspace first. Ugh. That task, on the other hand, will require me going to the room in my head that's stark white, with no furniture -- you know, like those "nowhere" spaces you see in movies like Heaven Can Wait or 2001: A Space Odyssey, where people always ask, "am I dead?" -- until the rest of me finishes cleaning up.

"I aten't dead yet." -- Granny Weatherwax (Terry Pratchett)

2008-05-18T22:45:00.000-07:00

It isn't much, but slapping gesso onto this postcard is the first time since Artfest that I've held anything resembling a paintbrush or a canvas.

Tally and I are going to do a round robin of sorts, just the two of us, using postcards. You know, this is the second time she's helped me get out of an art funk or slow period. I think we're mishpucheh by now, for many reasons. So here's a shout-out to her.

Oh, and I aten't dead yet... I have at least four more months before I have to make art with one hand while I nurse with the other and yell at The Boy to get me another martini. Kidding! I'll still be blogging and arting for awhile. So hang in there with me.

I made her wait for two weeks past her due date. During a muggy New Jersey summer.

2008-05-09T14:32:00.001-07:00

How long did you make your mom miserable before you decided to give her a break and get born already? (I'm sure your mom would answer "too damn long.")

I know I talk about my parents relatively frequently on le blog, but oddly enough, I don't exactly want to dig up anything on Mom for this post before Mother's Day weekend. I guess it's because she's already the star of this month's Gypsy Bonfire. You'd think I would be filling your eyeballs for pages, since I find myself reading Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, following up Little Altars Everywhere.

(What can I say? There's a reason why the first book got made into a sappy, incompletely realized movie.)

So instead, I'll leave you with an excerpt of an essay by Garrison Keillor I found on Salon.com:

Like an old lioness, she'll come running even if you're 2,000 miles away.

That is why you pay homage to the old lady on Mother's Day. You entered this cold world causing her more pain than she thought possible and now she won't ever give up on you.

I thought this was fairly appropriate because I'll be helping someone new with the "you entered this world" part later this year. I'm preggers, people! But I'm sure the 33% added crankiness has been completely unnoticeable.

Scrubs: RIP

2008-05-09T10:19:00.001-07:00

But I don't want it to go!

Last night, the series finale of Scrubs aired. It wasn't as absorbing as it usually is -- I think they did a better job pulling off the episode where they did an actual musical -- but maybe that's due to the writers' strike. I'm guessing the staff really didn't have the time to put in the effort they might've, had the season been a normal length.

I don't know which I'll miss more: the actual jokes, or the depictions of JD's relationship with Turk, and Turk's relationship with Carla. One element of JD and Turk's friendship reminds me of my own friends and me: race is part of our relationship but it's just part of who we are, and if we have dumb questions about the other, we can ask because we've put in the time to get to know each other as people.

Carla and Turk's relationship, on the other hand, I love because she's bossy and he's just stupid -- but they work together, in spite of their egos. Plus, Turk looks (and acts) a lot like my brother.

I hope the actors all find work at least as good as Scrubs. And I really want to see Angela Nissel (wrote about her here) one of the writers who became a supervising producer, get another show!

I miss them already. Yes, I know they're in syndication. But I miss them.

I blame this on Dr. Kelso.

Homework. This could require thinking.

2008-05-06T11:29:00.000-07:00

Ricë and I had a good talk last month about getting to know yourself and your art better... what really excites you, what medium/media you love so much you want to marry it, things like that. Like decorative paper and transparencies and stuff. (See more on my Flickr pages.)She suggested I get off my ass and do some deep thinking about these things. The threat of her nagging me to do so reared its head also. So I've been thinking. (Yes, that was the source of the smoke you smelled.) I hate hate hate homework, but I've been thinking.In my last piece, Dryad and Child, I was thinking about the face(s) I mean to show to the world, and the ones that show whether you know it or not. When I was younger, I thought one had to be the real thing, and the other was fake or not as authentic. (I was a teenager. Cut me some slack.) But I now think it's more like parts fade in and out, depending on circumstances.
Even with children. Which is why I printed one face, and layered another on top, on both figures. You look at one face, then the other, then back to wonder what one face expresses or conceals...

Another element of these shifting perceptions: all of the faces I used are of African Americans. Even the transparency face. They're just different shades of black people.

So I guess essentially, I like translucent layers, especially faces, because you can see two elements at a time and your mind shifts back and forth from one perception to another. My clever Artfest roomies Cheryl and Layla picked up on that right away.
That's why I like lace paper so much, and the semi-translucent white leaves on the dryad's over-skirt. I used to adore vellum when I first started making cards, for the same reason. The delicacy obscures, but doesn't completely hide, the layer beneath. This piece was the first I've made where I think that interest came out to the fore.

Dryad and Child is for sale (email me if you're interested), mainly because I want someone else to be as fascinated by the faces as I am. I plan on putting the piece on my Etsy store tomorrow.

Let's give 'em somethin' to talk about

2008-04-27T17:24:00.000-07:00

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.)