MAYWEATHER VS MARQUEZ

It may come as a surprise to some that I'm a fan of boxing. The brutality of the sport intrigues me and unleashes my inner testosterone. I find it easier to root for someone when it's all boiled down to two people, facing off, trying to prove to the world who the better man is, than to root for a team where a number of factors can screw things up. I cheer mostly for Manny Pacquiao, who is not only Filipino (MABUHAY!), but came from the same town in which my father was raised. He is also currently the most exciting boxer out there. His flurries of punches stun even the most seasoned and toughest of his opponents. He annihilated Oscar de la Hoya last November. He knocked out Ricky Hatton in two rounds, landing the guy in the hospital. In the words of a sports announcer, Manny Pacquiao is "blindingly fast".

The boxing world has been abuzz about a possible fight between Floyd Mayweather, Jr and Manny Pacquiao. First, Mayweather would have to beat Marquez, and Pacquiao would have to beat Cotto in November. Seemed almost too easy for either, but I take nothing for granted. In boxing, the state of the mind is equally as important as the state of the body and Cotto is one angry mofo. Never mess with a guy with nothing to lose.

Well, mission one accomplished. Mayweather beat Marquez. This fight was decidedly one-sided and a little boring to me. Mayweather was clearly the faster and more superior boxer of the two, but his cold calculations, perfect stance and single jabs did not make for an exciting match. It was a slow beating for Marquez, doled out one punch at a time. That I had time to do full color sketches to me pretty much says it all.

Mayweather looking young and fresh, hardly suffering a bruise

Marquez looking defeated

VIEW FROM A TENT

MAGRITTE AND CATERPILLARS

Just for fun

WHICH ONE IS BETTER?

New piece in watercolor
Old piece in oil

Though I often speak of it, I don't actually redo old paintings. I've come to terms with the idea that once I finish a piece, all I'll see are flaws.

I made an exception with this one. I'd always felt that I original medium I'd used to depict this piece was not the right one. And now that I've switched to watercolor, I wanted to see if I were right. I believe I was.

What do you think? I'd take a poll but it would be embarrassingly insufficient!

And for fun, I'd taken pics of the progression of the latest version.

THIS IS WHY I LOVE MY NEIGHBORHOOD

(Originally posted on Facebook)
I pass this guy with envy almost every morning on my way to work. He paints with such intensity and focus. From a distance I thought they were abstract modern art. But a closer look revealed that he was painting . . . clowns.

Everyday this guy gets up in the morning and paints colorful, creepy clowns. With passion.

I don't know what to say to that. Can you judge someone who is more productive and more passionate than you? I think not. I sure as hell haven't painted as much as he has!

And where else but Jersey City can you find someone like him? So one morning I asked if I could take a picture. Not only did he pose for me, he even went back inside the house and took out another painting as background prop. Then he told me that he's also on comcast cable at 6pm channel 50 (or 58?) and that I should check his show out. Jesus, this guy's got me beat! I love that I live in a neighborhood where everyone is a character, where people are out of the ordinary, and if you're willing to reach out, they are willing to reach right back.

LITTLE HAVANA

CENTRAL PARK ON A SUNNY DAY

THE WOMAN AT GRAND CENTRAL STATION

I see plenty of oddly-dressed people in New York City. So much so that the occasional mismatched person no longer registers on my radar. But then there are those who give me real pause. As far as I could tell, this woman didn't look destitute, nor did she look homeless, just beyond caring. She wore a white long-sleeved shirt, which she pulled up to her chest to reveal an enormous, cellulite-ridden belly that threatened to topple her forward. The belly hung below her waistline, and so to make room, she had unzipped her pants wide. She walked with a swagger, daring people to meet her gaze. I'm sure I had stared at her for a few seconds, mouth agape, before scuttling away.

Burka

In her book, The Bookseller of Kabul, author Asne Seierstad, who spent time with an Afghani family, dedicated a chapter to the burka called "Billowing, Fluttering, Winding". Instead of merely describing a bazaar full of women wearing them, she wrote: "She keeps losing sight of the billowing burka, which merges with every other billowing burka. Sky blue everywhere. . . . a heavily pregnant burka comes panting and puffing behind. She is desperately trying to keep up with the two more energetic burkas."

Objectifying women in this way proved to be profound and unsettling for me. I felt the heat of the city, the stifling heaviness of the nylon material, and the loss of all peripheral vision, even as I sat reading the book in jeans and a t-shirt. I thought of all the women who were made to be and were made to believe that they were second class citizens. I painted this in their honor.

THANKSGIVING 2008

View from the plane on the way to Minnesota

Lidia's kitchen




This was my Thanksgiving break in a nutshell. I could not keep up with that kid!

Smudge is a GREAT cat!


On the way to do some big shopping!


My husband watching TV


The plane on the way home.

A HOME WITHOUT WALLS

Means you can watch TV from the toilet. This near wall-free rendition of our domicile confused the hubby a little.

AT NIGHT ON THE WAY HOME

Because drawing on the street in the dark is a brilliant thing to do.

SO TOGETHER

I'm used to seeing people who are so put together, they may have jumped out of a magazine. But this woman I saw on a PATH station actually looked like she jumped out of children's book. Or was once a porcelain doll sold on QVC come to life. Everything matched to an unnatural perfection, and not even a strand of her hair was out of place.

YES WE DID

President Barack Obama.

Bitter memories of 2004 still lingered today of the time I listened at work to Kerry's concessional speech, then sat at my desk and wept bitterly for myself and for this country. My heart was heavy with fear. Little did I know that my fears were not unfounded, that the country really would deteriorate at a rapid rate in such a short amount of time. Those fears resurfaced at the appearance of Sarah Palin. The very idea that someone like her would have any power at all, even to just cast a tie-breaking vote in the Senate, made me sick to my stomach. It was Palin, not McCain, that has caused the greatest election anxiety in me.

All day long I was cautiously optimistic. My eyes were glued to the computer with five windows open, toggling between sites (we have neither cable nor TV reception), and frequently refreshing each page.

When MSNBC declared Obama the winner, it took a few minutes to register what just happened. My husband and I checked CNN. The Huffington Post. BBC. The true test of this reality was checking FOX. After all, there's only so much they can spin! When we saw the headline "President Obama" I finally allowed myself to believe it.

Yesterday my friend Ben said on the way home, "I'm excited for tomorrow. I just hope it doesn't end in tears." But it did. Tonight I DID cry again; they were tears of joy! I recalled weeping for Kerry, whose defeat ignited in me a determination not to be complacent about elections. I remembered thinking "If Kerry had won that election, this moment would not exist." I'm not happy that the economy is in the toilet, that we are in debt beyond imagining, that the war is still going on. But this moment, this historic moment of watching the first African-American be elected President . . . is too beautiful for words.

THIS IS THE PLACE

. . . where I die a little each day.

It's been a horrid month.

DEER SKULL

VIEW FROM WINDOW

Sadly, the weather was far too rainy and windy for me to do a Sketchcrawl. But so as not to disgrace myself completely, I drew this view from our living room window.

GRAND CENTRAL PATH

This is highly inaccurate, but the doors closed before I could get in more detail.

THREE COUPLES AND A PIRATE

SWEET CREAMS FINAL PIECE

SOLD!!!

SWEET CREAMS SKETCH

What an unfortunate name for an ice cream shop. This is my sketch of it from where I sat eating homemade strawberry ice cream. I am working on the final piece right now, and I hope that I retain the some of this spontaneity.

SLEEPY FASHIONISTA FINAL PIECE

This piece is based on a sketch I did on the PATH train, I thought Sleepy deserved to be a final painting.

SAY YES

"So, say 'yes.' In fact, say 'yes' as often as you can . . . And if you're lucky, you'll find people who will say 'yes' back . . . saying 'yes' begins things. Saying 'yes' is how things grow. Saying 'yes' leads to knowledge. . . So for as long as you have the strength to, say 'yes'." —Stephen Colbert

THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD

We all have a little voice in our head that guides us. Some people refer to it as their conscience or "listening to their heart". I'm warped enough to give this voice a face —and base it on the most awkward version of myself (cue those painful middle school/high school years!).

LOSING PERSPECTIVE

Perspective is something I struggle with—on many levels.

This feeble attempt was done when my husband and I visited Stefan and his family, who lived in a beautiful, renovated barn with floor-to-ceiling windows and a spiral staircase that led up to a mezzanine.

One morning I woke up a good three hours before everyone else. The large, wooden window panels had not yet been opened, leaving the place in shadow. A silence pervaded the room, the kind that either invited serenity or madness.

It was the perfect time to draw.