West Coast Urban Sketch Crawl

Yesterday, I ventured down to San Francisco for a day of sketching fun.  I met up with a bunch of other sketchers from all over the place, and we took part in the first annual West Coast Urban Sketchers' sketch crawl.  Actually, July 13 was World Wide Sketch Crawl Day, so there were sketchers meeting up in cities all over the world yesterday.  It was a very fun way to meet other sketchers and participate in something that felt bigger than what was going on in my own journal.

We met at the Ferry Building in San Francisco, which is a beautiful old building that has been revitalized into an active market with food stalls and shops.  On the weekends, a busy farmer's market lines the outdoor areas and more tents with arts and crafts are set up in the plaza across the street.  It's a lively, colorful spectacle.  Yesterday was remarkable as the typical morning fog had burned off early, so it was unexpectedly sunny.  Most everyone had come prepared with long sleeved shirts and jackets for the usual SF summer weather (the coldest winter I've ever spent, to paraphrase Mark Twain).  So there was a bright blue sky and fresh sea breeze.  In the midst of all of that is an ever present drummer whose lively beat feels like part of the natural rhythm of the place.



The organizers of this event (Jana, Jim, Laurie, and others) not only had a schedule and maps for everyone, but also had "swag" bags from Blick Art Supplies with charcoal, sketchbook, and acrylic paints.  Everyone scattered to draw.  I first settled across the street from the ferry building with two other sketchers, and that's where I drew the scene up above.

From there, I moved to our original meeting place in the big island plaza in front of the building, and turned away from the ferry building to paint the craft stalls across the street.  I am intimidated about adding people to scenes, but I added just a few here.  In reality the place was swarming with people. I watched as a sketcher next to me did a gorgeous loose sketch of the crosswalk and the stream of people flowing through.  It was inspiring and something I'd never have thought to even try.

From there, I wandered into the ferry building to find lunch.  It's gorgeous in there, and would have been a great place to draw if it weren't for the crowds of people.

I had a delicious mozzarella, salami and arugula sandwich from Cowgirl Creamery, and then was fortified to continue.  I wandered through the building to the back side which faces the bay.  I found a sunny bench, enjoyed my sandwich, and then set to work painting.  I bravely added some people-ish blobs, and used my artistic license to eliminate the terminal port which actually blocked most of the view of the bay bridge.  

While I was working on this sketch, a mom and an adorable little girl sat down next to me.  They were interested in what I was doing, and the little girl -- Nikko was her name -- told me shyly that she liked to draw.  I pulled out my notebook and she made this lovely princess for me:

They left, with her mother promising to buy her a child's set of watercolors so she could paint like I was.  That was a very happy encounter!

By then the back of my neck was feeling uncomfortably sunburned, so I went inside to find a cold drink.  I braved the long line at Blue Bottle Coffee and ordered a New Orleans Style Iced Coffee.  I'd never had that -- hadn't even heard of it, actually.  Here's how they describe it: "A sweet and thick iced coffee, cold-brewed with roasted chicory, then cut with whole milk and organic cane sugar."  It was delicious. 

Having an hour before our final meet-up, I wandered around the side of the building, found a patch of shade and sketched the little pier for the Tiburon ferry.  While I was sitting and sketching, I heard the most intriguing snatches of conversation as people walked by.  "But you know, that's what happens when someone dies..."  "and now that I am aware of my inner child..." "no way, I said..." It's one of the things about sitting somewhere and drawing I like best, how you hear bits and pieces of people's  conversations streaming by.

 

By then, it was time to meet at the Gandhi statute behind the ferry building.  We laid our sketchbooks out on the ground and had fun seeing what everyone did.  There was lots of oohing and aahing and general admiration.  

 All in all, it was a fabulous and inspiring day. 

Feeling Beachy

Some time ago -- over a year ago, I think -- I came across a collection of fabric that I just fell in love with.  Aren't those the happiest, summeriest fabrics?  I just love the little flip flops and clams and sunglasses and beach umbrellas.... I couldn't resist getting a bundle of fat quarters, and when they arrived I mixed in some other fabrics from my stash (the lobsters! the stripes!) that seemed to fit.  And I put it in a bundle in a closet for that undefined point in the future when I'd be in the mood to start something new.

Well, the right time was yesterday.  Subtle, yes, working with all of that red white and blue on a hot July Fourth?!  I'm going for simple, just a beachy banner sort of thing.  And I'm loving it. It's just what I'm in the mood to be doing.  Just look at those beachballs!  And seagulls!  Don't they make you happy? 

Which makes me think... Some people are very good about sewing their seasonal projects so that they are finished when the appropriate season comes around.  This quilt, finished, would have been perfect to have draped over the couch yesterday and all of this month.  But I can't ever get myself to work on stuff out of season.  I feel like making Christmas thing at Christmastime.  This isn't the best for planning purposes, obviously.  How about you? Do you work on summery things in the winter, and get your winter projects done in the summer?

Happy Fourth of July!

Happy Independence Day, everyone! I hope you are spending the day doing whatever you enjoy.  Me, I'll be spending this very hot day inside doing some sewing and some reading, to be followed by a hot dog barbecue.  Quiet but fun.

By the way, this fabulous needlework design, "Independence Inn," is by my sister, Laura  Perin.  You can buy the pattern here!

Drive-About: First Stop

I am home from my Pacific Northwest "drive-about."  What a wonderful trip it was -- I spent time with wonderful friends, and I saw a lot of beautiful places, and I spent a lot of time in the car having a good time listening to audiobooks, singing along with music, and thinking my own thoughts.  One of the fun aspects of this trip was sketching and painting along the way.  I really enjoyed working on an illustrated journal as I went along.

It was good for me to travel alone at this point in my life.  I've not done that in ages, in over two decades, probably.  I remembered how much I enjoy driving and seeing the way the terrain changes as you go from place to place.  I loved being able to pull off and explore whatever I wanted along the way.  I loved being able to open the sunroof and let my hair blow crazily without any complaints from the back seat. I thought a lot about how I probably wouldn't have felt that comfortable doing a 2-week road trip alone when I was in my 30's -- I would have felt too self-conscious, too wistful about wanting a partner, to worried about what might happen.  Now, in my 50's, I've lost the self-consciousness, and I figure I know how to avoid and/or get myself out of most scrapes so that wasn't a worry.  And at this time and at this age, I treasured the time alone to just be me and enjoy what I enjoy.

I started my trip in Ashland, Oregon, a place I'd never been to before but always wanted to see.  It's about a 5 hour drive from home so it was not a driving day.  And Ashland turned out to be as charming as everyone has always said it is.

 The downtown area is full of cute shops and restaurants, and the surrounding streets had charming bungalow and older style homes.  Especially coming from brown, summery California, I appreciated how lush and green everything was.

I stayed at a charming bed & breakfast, Anne Hathaway's B&B.  I could have stayed for two days just sitting on the inviting porch.  It was a wonderful place to sit and sip coffee in the early morning.

 I was also amused at the stuffed moose over the front door.

I saw "A Midsummer Night's Dream" while I was there, which seemed perfect for my first OSU Theatre Festival Experience.  It was held in the outdoor Elizabethan Theater, which was a marvel all its own.  I didn't take any photos during the play (obeying the signs of course) but here's one that gives you an idea of the theater:

I checked out the three(!) fabric stores in town, and had a very fun experience at one called Quiltz which also carries needlework supplies.

 As I was roaming about, I spotted several designs by my sister, Laura Perin.  When I asked if I could take pictures to show to Laura, they got so excited to hear that I didn't just know her, I was related to her.  They treated me as if I were the sister of the queen.  They raved about how much they loved Laura's designs and made sure to show me the special bin they have for her patterns.

I can see myself returning there, now that I know how close it is and how wonderful it is.  And next year's line up of plays looks great too. 

It was a wonderful first leg for my trip. 

Too much fun to blog...

I have been the worst blogger over the past months, due to life taking some unexpected turns. But now, I'm glad to report, that I'm off on a road trip (a "drive-about," my friend Alan calls it) and I've been so busy having a good time that I've not had time to write about what I've been doing.

However, I've had my trusty camera with me, so here are a few pictures. Here's the sweet bed and breakfast where I stayed in Ashland, Oregon, called Anne Hathaway's B&B:

Here's a scene from beautiful Lithia Park in Ashland where I sat and sketched for a bit:

Here's what I now know to be Table Rock, which I spotted from the freeway somewhere between Ashland and Portland:

My friend Terry Grant and I had a lovely time sketching together at the Lu San Chinese garden in Portland:

I'm now in Port Townsend visiting friends and enjoying the gorgeous scenery and having all sorts of fun. I'll continue on my drive-about to hit some other places over the next week, and perhaps I'll have more time to catch up here.

 

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Road Trip!

 

I am headed out on an adventure. I'm heading north, to visit friends in Oregon and Washington and do a fair bit of meandering along the way. Do you see Mt Shasta in the distance?

 

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This rant has been building up...

I love Pinterest, I really do. And I love the DIY blogs that show how easy it is to freshen up one's home and create inexpensive knock-offs of high-end decorator items.  And earlier this spring, I was so inspired by having the downstairs floor replaced, and the DIY blogs I was reading, and the beautiful pieces of furniture I was seeing on Pinterest, that I decided to tackle a project.  I've had this hutch in the dining room which was purchased some years ago because a) it fit the somewhat narrow space between two windows and b) it was pretty inexpensive and c) it had some very pretty details.

I always disliked how dark it was.  So, with the burst of creative energy fueled by enthusiastic blogs and Pinterest images, I set to work. 

Let me digress a moment here to ask you:  Have you ever made a recipe from Pinterest?  Or from a magazine?  And did yours turn out looking as beautiful as the picture?  Uh huh.  This should have told me something.

Following the directions of a certain inspirational DIY blogger (who shall remain nameless here), I bought the recommended supplies.  In order to have it tidy and perfect, I took the cabinet doors off and removed all of the hardware. (First really annoying glitch:  the screw heads were weirdly flat with very shallow grooves so they were hard to grip with every single screwdriver in the house.  I persisted, but it wasn't fun.)  But I am woman, and I was roaring.  So I persevered.

I sanded the bejeezus out of the thing. I followed the hardware store's advice and got a primer that is supposed to stick to anything.  I applied primer to tone down the very dark wood, because I was intending to paint it a lovely pale color.  My first choice was pale yellow, and I started in with a beautiful creamy, buttery yellow.  Until the Teen of the household got a look, and told me in no uncertain terms that she hated it, that yellow is her least favorite color because -- imagine this said in a scornful, dramatic, accusing teenaged tone, "it's the color of SUNSHINE." 

While I could (inwardly) smile at her drama, I'd actually been doubting the wisdom of the yellow.  So I took a day or two to consider while allowing more time for paint to dry... and I decided that perhaps a better choice would be a pale aqua.  I asked the teenager's opinion and got a begrudging approval.

So, I happily resumed painting.  I had a lot of fun mornings out in the garage, door open to breezy sunshine, music from the ipod keeping me company.  And I referred back often to my DIY Blogger Mentor.  Do a coat, let it dry, and then sound down any drips, wipe it down, and do a second coat.  Easy!

Except.  Latex paint doesn't sand.  It sort of peels.  Yep, my brother told me on the phone one night, everyone knows that trying to sand latex paint makes a mess.  Everyone?  Not me.  Those bloggers never warned me about that.  Nope, didn't mention peeling at all. (I will add that I don't live in a humid climate and I allowed for days of drying time.)  So that wasn't fun, and was frustrating, and I felt like all of those steps I'd taken to make sure things were smooth and neat were just pointless.

But, I am woman.  I kept at it. I consulted with my friend Nora at the hardware store who advised me on the best ways to deal with the issue.  I sanded lightly.  I did a very light layer.  I finished the base pieces (did I say there were two, one that stacks on the other?) and moved on to the drawers and cabinet doors. 

Yesterday, I enlisted the teenager's reluctant help to move the pieces into the dining room, and we got the top stacked onto the base.  The color looks fabulous.  The piece looks great and doesn't loom over the room the way it did when it was dark.  So this morning, I set out to put the hardware back on (having selected new knobs), and attach the doors and put the drawers in.

Oh lord.  Let me first say that this has all been sitting out in the garage over the past month so it could all dry thoroughly and I could brace myself for the "fun" (I now use the term loosely as applied to painting furniture) of putting it all together. 

Ms. Blogger Painter didn't warn me about any of these issues, either.  A layer or two of paint adds thickness to doors.  So when you go to close them, they stick.  And guess what?  The latex paint peels.  I wanted to cry. 

And another surprise: it's not the best idea to paint the sides of drawers and the inner runners that they slide on -- because, yep, that latex paint sticks.  As in, will not budge.  Here I thought I was doing it all so neatly and thoroughly.  Ah well, back to the sander.  The drawers now slide, but I'm thinking I don't want to open them anyway.  I just want the thing done and then I don't want to touch it.  Ever again.  Or for a very long time, at least.

Well, I'm pushing forward.  I can sand a bit more to eliminate the peely places, and I can touch up with paint to hide those spots.  It'll look fine, in the end.  But I'm a little disillusioned.   My grand plans to paint the living room coffee table are on hold.  I have to recover from this experience first.

You Just Never Know

It's kind of amazing how trying something new can take you in a direction you never anticipated going.  It has been true with singing, as I've written about before here, and now I'm finding it true about sketching too. 

See this sketch?  I did it last October, and I did it because I was sitting at a place where this was the view. But I became instantly absorbed with painting the details on the buildings ... it made me look closely and I really enjoyed trying to draw all of that detail. 

 Here's another sketch I did a while back, just because it was what was in front of me.  Who knew that doing that plain old bank building would be so fun to draw?

To to my surprise, I have discovered that I really like drawing buildings.  They give me the chance to figure out perspective and usually mess about with foliage shapes and colors.  I like adding the trim and the texture or decorative bits.  In fact, I am loving it.  The other day I sat in my driveway and painted the house across the street.  

 Yesterday I was out and about running errands and I drew a bit of the town center in the next town over.  So far I'd avoided drawing cars (those pesky cars so often parked in front of charming buildings, annoyingly getting in the way) but when a big white limo pulled in in front of the gelato shop, I had to include it. And I kind of like how they add to the scene.

Now, as I'm out and about doing things, I find myself looking at the shops and houses I drive past all of the time, thinking "Hmm, that'd be fun to sketch!"   Here's a house in my sister's neighborhood that looked so cozy and tucked away behind a lush garden.  In fact, my sister and I were together and both of us sketched it -- it was really fun to see how differently we did the same thing.

This afternoon I have to take the dog to the vet's, and it has already occurred to me that that might be a fun spot to draw, too.  Oh dear.  I will have to add 45 minutes to every errand for drawing time.

Maybe one day I'll work my way up to adding people.  Who knows where this adventure with pen and paint will take me next...

And she does that on horseback?

This past weekend, Miss C participated in a vaulting demonstration at the barn where she rides. I'm amazed at what she can do on a walking, trotting, or cantering horse -- some of these things I can't even do on the ground!

(By the way, if you get a sound error message box before the video comes up, just click the X in the upper right hand corner and you can see the slideshow without sound.)

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Artistic Problems

I haven't been spending that much time in the sewing room since I finished "Serenity," but I did make another quilt recently,  about two weeks ago.  I wrote last time about the community chorus I'm in and our party to celebrate the chorus's 25th anniversary and the director's retirement.  As a thank you from the chorus, I made this quilt for her. The green fabric in the border and the block backgrounds has pale music staffs and notes -- very soft and pretty.  On the back are a photo of the full chorus and everyone's signatures.  Making this was truly a labor of love.  I was happy to see her delight at receiving it, too. 

Meanwhile, though, I've been spending more time drawing and painting.  It is remarkably reassuring to me to know that this is all learnable, and to be seeing progress.  At my April ranch retreat recently, I too time to do a bit of outdoor sketching, which was very enjoyable.

I even attended an urban sketcher's "sketch crawl, hosted by local artist Richard Sheppard, right here in my own town.  I had such a good time meeting fellow sketchers, getting tips and new ideas, and being out and about sketching with others.  I sat myself on a benchand did a page spread featuring our local corner candy store.

And just to keep myself going, I've been participating in a challenge called "Every Day in May" where the task is to draw or paint something (duh) every day in May to a daily topic.  It's been very fun and I've surprised myself a few times.

I was pretty happy with both of these.  But mainly I'm just having fun doing them. Tomorrow's theme is "Something Creepy" which had me stumped for a bit as all I could think of was spiders and I didn't want to paint one of those.  Here's what I'll post in the group tomorrow:

Yeah, I hate clowns.

Now I'm torn... when I have time, do I sew? Do I sketch with pen and ink? Do I paint?  Such problems.

Let's All Sing

I've always loved musicals.  I know some people are put off by the idea of people suddenly (and seemingly randomly) bursting into song, but that's one of the things I love about them.  It's the sudden bursting into song that seems like how life should be, you know? 

Back when I was in high school, I had a friend, Paula, whose family had an annual Christmas party that would culminate with everyone standing around a piano singing holiday songs.  I'd never seen anything like that outside of the movies, and I thought it was wonderful fun.  It wasn't that the group sounded particularly great, but what struck me was the pure joy of singing with friends.  It felt fun and uplifting and festive. I remember thinking that some day, when I had my own home, I'd have parties where we'd sing Christmas songs, too.

Some years later, when I was a just-out-of-law-school lawyer and brand new in my New England community, I was invited to a Christmas caroling party.  There was snow on the ground, a crisp chill in the air, and hot cider and cookies before and after singing.  It was my idea of holiday bliss.

Flash forward some years to when Miss C was little and we'd moved into our own home.  I persuaded my husband to host a Christmas caroling-and-cookie party.  I got song lyrics printed up, and I strung clusters of jingle bells on pipe cleaners for the little kids to jingle along, and I invited a bunch of families.  We had a good old time, and I will never forget the parents of my friend Jenny, visiting from England, who seemed sort of dazed by the whole experience ("Is this a common American holiday event?" they asked) but were good sports about coming along and singing right out.

I stopped trying to do a caroling party after a few years.  Looking back, I can see that my husband and I had different goals around those sorts of things, and what felt fun and spontaneous and relaxed to me felt disorganized and unpolished and uncomfortable for him.  It just felt less and less fun, and not worth the frustration.

Flash forward some more, and I found myself singing with the Healsburg Chorus, a community chorus in my area. (I've written about it here and here.) It's been wonderrful fun, and I've learned a lot, and I've made some delightful new friends.

This past Sunday, I hosted a pot-luck dinner to celebrate the end of our spring season and, more momentously, to mark the 25th anniversary of the chorus.  We'd just learned that our director Betty, who has led the chorus since its inception, had decided to retire.  So we gathered to enjoy each other and celebrate the chorus's long life and to honor Betty and the others who've been along for the whole 25 years.  The weather was gorgeous, so a lot of people spilled out into the backyard and there was much chatter and laughter.

At one point, we presented gifts to Betty, the 4 25-year members, and Susan, the amazing pianist who as accompanied the chorus for all of that time (and, thank god, will continue.)   Our gift to Susan was a music box shaped like a grand piano that played "I Will Always Love You," which was one of the songs in our spring repertoire this year. (You know the one ... Whitney Houston?  Dolly Parton? That one.)  Susan, and others, got teary eyed.

And all of a sudden, someone spontaneously started singing "I Will Always Love You" to Betty. And the whole chorus joined in, singing along, a bit raggedly perhaps without accompaniment to follow or keep us on tune, but with such love and joy and four layers of harmoney, eyen.  It was, I tell you, just like in the movies.  There were big smiles, and some tears, but it was lovely.  And me, I was feeling an extra delight at seeing 50+ people crammed into my family room and kitchen, singing away for the joy of it.  Just like life should be.

The arrangement we were singing was the one that the Denver Gay Men's Chorus is singing above.  We sounded sorta like that, only, well, we're not gay, or all men, and we were standing around a kitchen table.  But still.  It was PERFECT.

Serenity

I am delighted to report that my newest art quilt, "Serenity," was accepted into the exhibition "An Exquisite Moment" by the Dinner at Eight Artists.  Here is how they described the exhibit theme: 

"Consider the following:  The unfurling of a flower. A hummingbird in flight.  A magical moment shared with a lover or friend.  The birth of a child.  A personal milestone.  The realization of a dream.  A treasured memory.  The sacred moments of the ordinary.  These are the Exquisite Moments that make us who we are."  

Jamie Fingal and Leslie Tucker Jenison curate these exhibits and I'm very honored to have my quilt included. 

The exhibit will be shown at the International Quilt Festivals in Long Beach, California this August and in Houston, Texas in November.

Catching Up on This and That

I seem to have lost my blogging rhythm.  Where did it go?  Well, I will settle back in at some point.  Perhaps I need to set myself a schedule. Or not.  See? I can't even commit to the idea of a schedule.  I figure that this period of my life is about finding New Normal, so you'll just have to bear with me.

So far, New Normal has involved reconnecting with some friends, which has been lovely.  I've picked up my ink pen and paintbrush and I'm getting reacquainted with how it feels to look and see and draw and paint. Online classes with Jane LaFazio and Val Webb have provided great inspiration and instruction -- not to mention some deadlines to push me forward.

New Normal meant getting back into my sewing room to make a new art quilt too.  Yee haw!  That felt good!  I'm afraid I can't show it to you, as it is for an exhibit which prevents publication before a certain point, but here's one of the several inspiration photos that led to the piece I made.
 

I've been reading a lot, too -- we've had some gray rainy days that required just curling up on the couch with the novel du jour. Some of the better books I've read are:

 

Families and Other Nonreturnable Gifts, by Claire LaZebnik,

 

Cover of Snow by Jenny Milchman, and

The Tragedy of Arthur, by Arthur Phillips. 

Of course, there has been real life work, and household stuff, and the homeschooling adventure... but I feel like I'm starting to feel like ME again. 

Happy Easter!

 If the Magic Easter Tree is blooming, it must be Easter!  This is a dogwood tree in my friend Beth's backyard (in Sacramento, California -- sorry to all of you who are still walking on frozen ground!), and it somehow manages to bloom just in time for Easter every year, no matter whether Easter is in March or April.  It's magic, clearly, hence our name for it.  
 

The little baby blossoms are exquisite, dainty little cups that seem to open a bit more every minute.  I can't seem to stop taking pictures of them.

There are other flowers blooming the yard too -- here's a gorgeous camellia that makes me think of strawberry swirl ice cream. 

I'm here to help Beth for a few days as she recovers from foot surgery.  So she is sitting with her foot propped up high, and I'm fetching things and plumping pillows and bringing medications on schedule.  Today we got her set up on the back porch so we could enjoy the lovely day while we chatted and poked around on our screened devices.  This is the sort of nursing I like. 

How lovely to be able to just sit and soak up Spring!

That slow mood

Do you ever have times where you just feel droopy all day?  I've been in one of those phases. And I've tried chalking it up to a bunch of different things:  the aftermath of the burst of painting and decorating energy I've had, that Daylight Savings' lost hour, the emotional fallout from doing some heavy emotional work via Al-anon ... Or maybe it's just that, since the whole downstairs was in disarray for 10 days, Gemma has come to sleep in my bedroom, and every time I turn over during the night she considers it appropriate to come over to the bed and poke her face at me in delight that I'm there. 

 When I come downstairs in the morning, I make my mug of coffee and go sit in the living room to enjoy the morning sunshine and the new rug and read email, and I've had a few days where I could have just sat there all day reading and napping and waiting for my mom and dad to take their turns in Words with Friends.  Computer games are perfect for moods like that.

But then things need to be done, and I get moving, and I'm happily immersed in planning ahead in the school curriculum and painting the dining room hutch (yes, STILL.  But I'm on the doors which is the last part) and making progress on a new art quilt, and folding laundry.  Well, except for the folding laundry -- that's not something that thrills me but heck, it gets done. 

And by late afternoon, there is time to sit outside in the sunshine while Gemma roams on the lawn.  Those primroses I bought two weeks ago still haven't gotten themselves planted, but heck, I"m enjoying them in their little cartons anyway. 

There's always tomorrow.

Do you have moods like this?  And how do you jostle yourself out of them?