Forgiving the Past, How I Began My Dream of Surface Pattern Design

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VPH Design Part One: My Surface Pattern Design Guide.

Hey, #GenX. How’s 50 looking for ya? Hi, everyone else! I’m just getting my stride over here. Are you worrying about retirement, like me? Now, I know our pop, capitalist culture hates aging. As we enter our 50’s how are you feeling about that? I’m calling bullshit on feeling anything but glorious and empowered about it. We have never been smarter or more beautiful. Sure, there are body aches, menopause, gray hairs, and wrinkles, but, I love all of it. I love all my life wisdom. I love those I know who are aging with me. I love that you are not coloring your hair anymore. I love that there is a bit of a tummy appearing.

We are in the Age of #Corona. I’ve been in quarantine since early March. I have good and bad days. How are you doing? I feel like our government currently seems to hate us and I don’t have faith my pension and social security will be available to me. So, I’ve got a plan. A retirement plan. Let me tell you about it. First, some background:

Long, long ago in a city far, far away, I struggled in college with the course of study I “should” follow. I wanted to study art. My professor told me “Washes are your thing.” Black ink and water. Shadow and Light. At the time, I took it and put it in my heart. Then, I listened to well-meaning voices who told me I couldn’t make a living as an artist. Fear took hold. The ramifications of that time are still in my body and I, at 53 years old, am working to finally release them. I started to focus on Biology and I turned my back on visual art. I finished college and one of the first purchases my mother helped me buy was a set of #Pelikanwatercolors, markers, paper, and brushes. This was before my first job and I just needed these supplies to dream and practice with as I coped with transitioning from college to finding my way in the workplace. I was depressed and missing my friends so badly. The art supplies helped me so much during this time.

At the same time, I started a distant learning course for writing children’s literature. It was hard and I didn’t even try to make pictures to go with my writing at the time. Why? I was disassociated. Depressed. Still believing I couldn’t be successfully artistic. Sad. 🙁

With the compliment I got in college still hiding in my heart, I began to play and learned how to Watercolor. It is my first love. It can be tamed to a point, but has that exquisite, expressive quality. I love trying with it. What will happen if I…? I added too much water… Not enough? I haven’t stopped painting in between having gross jobs, moving cross country, making cards, working in theatre, and so many other things.

I found Sara Middas’ South of France book in the late 90’s and it lit me up! What a clever book. She lived in France for almost a year and just collected what she saw, what she ate, where she was and it is brilliant. This is the book that got me interested in surface pattern design. I want to make a book like hers, only, it will be about my neighborhood, what is around me. So, I started paying attention to where I was. Sketching, painting, note taking. That book idea is stuffed way in the back of my brain, dusty, forgotten. But I digress. I drew my first design idea, a mug and a plate with a blue pattern. (* I would insert it here, but I can’t find it…) I didn’t know what to do next. This was before the internet and I failed at finding resources or any kind of help at all. So, I gave up. On that. But, I kept painting. And dreaming.

Then three decades went by, like, how the hell did that happen? A marriage. A first home purchase. A divorce. A house lost. A new family. A second home purchase. Many jobs worked and in between, the surface design dream pops up now and then. And then, one day, I’m 50. 😳

I’m ignoring any voice that tells me no, or stop, or I’m too old. I’m not slowing down, I’m ramping up. I’m awesome. My life has given me experiences and knowledge that are valuable and I will be paid handsomely for being creative and ridiculously brilliant. My retirement plan is to remain artistic and earn with making and selling my art. Come on, my 50-somethings! Let’s manifest our dreams and lift each other up to create a beautiful, enjoyable next three decades. How is your self esteem? You deserve the best. What is your retirement plan?

Next post: I find someone to help me on my path.

surface pattern design marie antoinette
Watercolor, inspired by the movie “Marie Antoinette” by Sofia Coppola. 2017

Fascist Pickles

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I ate the pickles you made today in your fascist kitchen, your fascist house. You might be a fascist if you think I don’t have a right to my own body. It’s none of your fucking business what I decide to put into it. You might be a fascist if you listen to pondets say I am citing a civil war because I have democratic ideals. You might be a fascist if you think what I believe is evil. Here’s what I believe: I believe I don’t have any right to try and change your mind. You are entitled to your beliefs, but please make sure you have facts and not just blah blah rhetoric to back you up.

I know what the church did to you. It made you believe you can judge people, that your way is the “right” way. Would Jesus let children be separated from their parents? Would he?

Would Jesus defend hate speech? Would he? Did he? Would he stand in front of a crowd of people and say things to make you hate others? You might be a fascist if think so. The double standard is right in our faces now. Girls have always had to worry about their bodily safety. Always. Now that your son has to worry about his own behaviour is actually a good thing. Maybe if he didn’t believe he’s entitled to take whatever he wants from a girl, he wouldn’t have to worry. 

If you think you have more of a say over what I do with my body than I do, you might be a Fascist. If you think you are better than others, you might be a Fascist. If you are afraid of people who don’t look like you, you might be a Fascist.

She is…

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She is a very pretty girl. I think her life is perfect. But, it is not. She carries pain and wounds unseen by us. Disappointment sits beside her, gently whispering, “It doesn’t matter. It will never happen.” And she listens. She listens too much. And her heart breaks every day with every broken promise. So, the tears flow, down the crevices and dips of her cheeks, splashing on her hands and feet. And she is left with sorrow and glittered tears under her finger nails.

What now?

Sadness.

There is so much sadness. Tears and salt. Sniffles and streaks. The river begins in her eyes. It trickles at first. Then gains speed with her wails and weeping. The flood gates are opened and the rushing torrent knocks all around her off their feet. They are swept away by her sorrow. No one can stop it. The flood waters reach the highest point and no one is safe. It washes all of it away. There is nothing left…well, not nothing, just fish bait.

 

Water

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When you tell me I have no passion, my heart breaks a little. Because, you do not see it. I am not a rain torrent. Nor am I the ferocious sea with wave after wave of destruction and noise. No, I am the tear drop, A slow, constant drip on the stone that will wear it down after time. My soft release and small splash will slowly erode the earth. But you will not see it. I am not a fire, raging through and gutting everything around me. No, but my passion simmers in my belly, every day. You just do not see it. I do not scream it from the mountain tops. I do not demand the attention of the billions with a shouting voice. No, I whisper it in on the breeze while you sleep and it is heard by the reeds along the river. It is carried by the wind over walls into places that need to hear it. I walk quietly in the trees and I tell the tiny life living there all my dreams and desires. And they hear me. And they don’t have to say a word for me to know that they did. I pray to the stars and the darkness above me in the sky and I know those waves of worry and hope sore up to ears I cannot see, yet I know they hear me. I feel it. Every. Day. Twinkle Twinkle, little star…how I wonder…and I know who you are…

No passion? You don’t see it. I live it every day. You just don’t, or won’t see me. –Ay

the ocean

Do You Know Your Heart?

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I gotta let this out…I am so confused. I see us dividing, it concerns me greatly, and I’m wondering why it’s happening. Is it perception? Is it fear? Is it greed? Our country is inflamed with anger and passion. We, literally, are at a tyrannical impasse. What do we do? The first thing that comes to mind is; 

Forgive. 

Forgive your neighbor. Did you let that sink in?
Forgive your family. Can you?
Forgive yourself. You are worthy.. 

Then Forgive. And then Forgive again. And then again. And again…

We are not a Christian nation. We are NOT. Christianity has been warped and made into something I can only describe as hateful and unloving. Jesus did NOT walk and talk the path of killing someone you do not agree with. Jesus did NOT ever say to take a life because you are fearful of skin color or garments. Jesus did NOT turn away from anyone. This is what I see; Christians stuck in the Old Testament. You have made it your very life to separate yourself from other people. Honestly, you have separated from your own Self. Tell me, did you forget that there are only two commandments in the New Testament? 1. Love your God with All of Your Heart, Mind, and Soul? This is the greatest commandment and 2. Love your neighbor as Yourself? Did you let that sink in? The current American Christianity is zealous and confrontational. It is divisive, judgmental, and mean. And it is radical. Radical like ISIS. Radical like any group bent on hurting or killing other people because they don’t think like you do. Did you let that sink in?

Are you feeling guilt, regret, or shame at your choice of President? If you aren’t, I really question the basis of your belief system, and I am very, very unhappy with you. But, I don’t hate you. I will make you soup and invite you to have a bowl because you need to eat, too. And I will ask you a lot of questions because I really don’t understand you. Our entire political system is fucked up and the two-party system is a dinosaur. I can’t help you with any of that, but I can forgive. Forgive the process. Forgive the Electoral College. Forgive you… 

Our spectrum of beliefs I wish I could call a rainbow, but all I see are shades of gray and red. Conservative or liberal, we are fed  bias news at every turn. Depending on where you are on the belief spectrum will determine where you prefer to get your dose of news. I found this interesting chart I want to share with you:

http://m.imgur.com/gallery/7xHaUXf

Credit to Mark Fraudenfelder from boingboing.net 

I don’t have any answers for you. I do not know what is in your heart. I am just sharing what I see and feel. My heart is breaking every damn day because we don’t Love Each Other. I am tired of it. This world makes me so sad. And then, I can step back from the dramas and look at my family and I feel Love still there. And every day I see examples of Love in the world, of people being kind and humane, and loving. Yes, I see it.

I don’t talk about praying, ever. (Matthew 6:5-15) But, dear God, if you are a praying person, please, can we come together, without our own desires or agendas, and just hold and uplift each other as people for the good of our country and the entire planet? Please? We all want Peace and a way to take care of our families. Isn’t that common-enough-ground?

Simply, there are two forces in the Universe; Love and Fear. Despite all the fear I see being played out all over the globe, I also see Love and I choose to walk with it and remember that Love is where I come from and so do you. I choose to see It and I choose to be It.

May All Beings Everywhere Be Happy and Free.

Lil’ Lit

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Small book. Tiny handwriting. What does it say?

Haiku and small poems about my daily bus ride to Olympia. Over the last 4 years I’ve logged thousands of miles up and down I-5 and hundreds and hundreds of trips.

Here are some in process photos of the making of “The Commute-Tacoma, Olympia”:

I took photos on the bus and had to make some design decisions.

Inspired by an artist book made with a clam shell, I decided to use this shape.

I cut up the most current schedule for my pages and box.

As I am making, all the while I’m thinking about the smells, sounds, rhythmic rocking, and views out the window that I see over and over again. How can I capture it within such a small work, and one I want to fit into a small box?

Things I want to highlight in words. I love words. I love to pepper my work with them.

How can I put this thing together? Do I want to make it permanent?

Now it is a flower, not a starfish. Still organic, not quite sure how it fits with the bus, yet.

 

This book was created for the 2017 Puget Sound Book Artists Exhibit, Northwest Musings. Come see this book and many other beauties through through July at the Collins Library, University of Puget Sound, Tacoma. <3

Carving Again

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I fell in love with printmaking at The Evergreen State College. The ink smell, cleaning “green” using cooking oil, the sound of the presses, hand-cranking them across damp paper, the inspiration of antiquated art-forms… Thanks, Colleen!

Rubber and Speed Ball.

Upclose and personal.

Custom card for someone very special.

Yes, insects appear. Everywhere.

Signature

hand carved clovers, positive and negative

 

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