WHO'S THE DORK WHO BRINGS AN 11" X 14" SKETCHBOOK TO THE BEACH?

THIS girl! And spent Labor Day inking it.

IT'S ALMOST CABIN TIME!

Soon it will be sun, friends, doggies, trees, and sitting on the porch eating barbeque all day long. Oh, and sketching, sketching, sketching...

 Last year I sketched a lot of sleeping dogs. And they are the best doggies ever. 

 This was Trout. He wasn't well the last time I saw him, though he pretended to be. He ran around for a bit like the other dogs, but was more tired afterwards and would lay for hours. In his healthier youth he begged for food, and his method was unique to say the least. He never pawed, he barely whined...he just STARED. Relentlessly. Then he would drool a steady stream. He drooled so much there would be a puddle next to the unlucky chap whose food he envied. On my last day at the cabin, I hugged him and cried and cried, knowing he won't be back the following year. He died a couple of months later. I miss Trout. He was a good dog, and I bet his heaven is the cabin and his spirit remains there.

In this sketch: Sugar (Weimaraner) and Cedar (Yellow Lab).

 In this sketch: All Sugar, all the time.

View of the apple tree from my tent.

BEEN SICK FOR OVER A WEEK

This was me last week, struggling to maintain human dignity while I sneezed, hacked out a lung and used up a dozen tissues every ten minutes. It was a time when I truly detested my body and cursed it. I feel a bit better now. The cold still lingers, but at least the sneezing stopped.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

IT'S THE YEAR OF THE WATER DRAGON!

Here's something I just discovered that so many artists already know: drawing and painting dragons are COOL!

AWKWARD MIDDLE SCHOOL ME SEES RIGHT THROUGH ADULT ME, TELLS IT LIKE IT IS

A page from my journal, as a reminder of what actually MAKES one an artist.

EARTHBENDER VERSUS AIRBENDER

 There was an old school chalkboard my husband rescued from the curb and for years we pretended it was useful. We hung it in the kitchen and wrote notes we ignored. It was never clear why we didn't just throw the chalkboard away, and one day I decided it would be the perfect surface for our Anniversary Painting. Some people take engagement pictures and/or hang wedding pictures on the wall in fancy frames. I wanted a painting. And not just any painting. Much like American Gothic Meets Burning Man, I wanted something that was us to the core—and we are totally, unapologetically nerdy.

I could depict us as anything we wished! And what I really wanted was to be Toff from the Nickelodeon series The Last Airbender. So I indulged in my fantasy to be an Earthbender while the hub is an Airbender (but NOT the Avatar—ha!). He loved it, especially how the composition inadvertently centered around him.

And yes, Momo is definitely the BEST part.

BOB ZOMBIE

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOB!

AMERICAN GOTHIC MEETS BURNING MAN

An anniversary present for my friends Jenn and Josh, who go to Burning Man  every year.

THE GALLERY PROJECT PART 3: THE FINAL ART

TOP (l-r): Violet Ninja, A Rob for All Seasons, Bellarina. BOTTOM (l-r): Keagon Monster, MNNY, Metal Bunny

TOP: Reserved Concern. BOTTOM: Gene

THE GALLERY PROJECT PART 2: SKETCHES

I had come up with the idea for Seasons of Rob two or three years ago. No rhyme or reason, but if you met him you would understand that it had to be done. Bellarina is my beautiful niece.

Spotted on the street. The man on the left wore a raccoon for a hat in St. Cloud, Minnesota. Not a Daniel Boone hat with the tail. No, a real dead raccoon on his head, limbs hanging and everything. My husband spotted him. The man on the right was walking outside of Grand Central Station in Manhattan looking like F. Scott Fitzgerald's golfing buddy. He looked haughty, too, as though the bewildered passersby just didn't understand true fashion when they saw it.

Gene was a 38-yr-old married man who insisted on accompanying me on my beach stroll one morning. He went to the beach every year and told me that, had he been ten years younger, *I* would have been the one going with him on these trips. Um...NO. I let him think I was far too young for him and didn't reveal my real age. In the end, he told me my husband was "a very lucky man" and went on his married way.

 The only piece created for The Gallery Project. It was a thank you piece for Kirk Benshoff, who organized the whole event. Violet is his daughter, and she probably WILL grow up to be a ninja someday.

 Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

THE GALLERY PROJECT PART 1

A few months ago, while in the middle of a particularly stressful time, I was feeling very much like this:

I was feeling restless because I wanted more than going from point A (home) to point B (work) and back again. I wanted something creative. I wanted a project. Then I found this in my inbox:


"The other night I was sitting in my apartment and thinking about the upcoming cold winter that's almost upon us. The detail that stressed me out the most was that long stretch of "hibernation" involving a repetitive cycle of waking up, going to work, coming back home, squeezing in chores, sleeping, and repeat. Going out to do "activities" always gets buried under a pile of seasonal depression and exhaustion from burning up what motivation I have left maintaining the responsibilities that can't fall by the wayside.

After that charming conclusion, I had a landslide of thoughts on what would fuel myself in just the right way during the dark dark winter.

Then I put my finger on it.
Wait for it.
Wait for it!

Freeform Creativity.

Just doing art for the sake of enjoyment.
Not for freelance... not for the day job... for myself.
Just like I did when I was a kid!
Not striving for perfection, but working on something fun & creative.

So I came up with this:
The Gallery Project"


My jaw went slack. This was EXACTLY what I was looking for! I must have read this email four times before I volunteered. I had no idea what the project really was about, but I was getting excited again. I didn't care if it was three people in someone's studio apartment discussing art while eating a bag of chips—it was an excuse to paint and that was enough. The question now was: What to Do?

ROB IS MY MUSE

TRAVELING THE WORLD, FUELING MY JEALOUSY

Here is an editor who has decided to pack up her bags and travel to 13 countries. She is living my Anthony Bourdain dream! I wish I had done this when I was young and single. Honestly for me, it would have been more fulfilling than grad school. Go Jill! Her awesome blog is right here.

EDITOR BY DAY...

A shout out to a fierce editor, Adriana Stimola, who also makes cookies that kick @$$! You can check out her gluten-free cookie recipe right here.

SLUMBER

TWO THINGS DISCOVERED

"You're still here," a voice said, jarring me from a world of Photoshop layers and PMS colors.

"Yes. Yes, I am." I said. I was designing a book with chicks and bunnies that was due, like, already.

"But it's Friday night." I looked up. He was one of the maintenance men, a tall, baby-faced guy with a stocky body and a round belly. He was leaning forward on a cubicle wall with his chin resting on his hands.

"I know."

The maintenance guy left soon after. That's when I heard voices. Heavy, New York voices of burly men who sounded big, rough, and smoked a pack a day. I pictured them grimy and smelling of sweat, like the construction workers who sit next to me on the PATH.

"No, no, no, that's Eclipse," one guy said. This got my attention. I stood up and searched for the source of the voices, but they were obscured from my view. I had to be content with just eavesdropping.

"That's the fourth book?"

"No, THAT'S Breaking Dawn. Eclipse is the third book."

"So what's the one with the werewolves?"

"You're thinking of New Moon."

"Oh, yeah. That's right."

I was beaming now. From the sound of it, I wouldn't want to encounter either of them in a dark alley and yet here they are, discussing the plots of Twilight.

Shortly after, I heard a bark. The dog sounded small and friendly, and my guess was confirmed when a beagle in a service vest appeared at my cubicle with its owner.

"Excuse me, can we sniff around your desk for a bit?" I sensed that it was inappropriate to ask why and so I just moved out of the way. It only took the beagle a few seconds before it determined that there was nothing to be found there. I always like discovering moments like these. A different world happens at night when no one is looking.

KITTEN IN A BASKET

RAIN

From Madonna's video, "Rain", in honor of my a karaoke night in which tone-deaf me got a score of 99. Ninety-nine percent off-key perhaps?

BEARDED FISHERMAN

CHECKERED TIGHTS

Confession: I enjoy walking a good ten feet behind hot women. I've little interest in the actual woman herself, but this vantage point allows me to bear witness the reactions that said woman generates in her wake. Particularly entertaining are large groups of people who couldn't help but stop whatever they were doing and stare. 

     THIS woman was so hot I still don't believe she's real. She had ENTIRE BLOCKS of people stop whatever they were saying mid-word and follow her silently with their eyes, mouth agape. Older men grossly revealed their dirty intentions with a lick of their lips and/or severely piercing stares. She was statuesque and skinny. Her hair was HUGE, naturally blond, and tightly curled with darker ends and pink swath of color on the right hand side. Her shirt matched her hair, as did her purse. She donned on checkered tights, each square of which accentuated her perfect butt like a topographical map and exaggerated her movements. Every single jiggle registered as on a Richter scale. At the bus stop, old people and young students alike were dumbfounded. Teenage boys jumped up and down in excitement and pointed at her, saying to their friends "Did you SEE?!" Girls stared contemptuously, or rather, enviously (a little from column A, a little from column B). 

      By far the most bizarre reaction came from a guy I heard running behind me, running past me, and yelling in front of me, "MISS! MISS! I LIKE YOU! YOU SHOULD GO OUT WITH ME!" Is he overly optimistic or just plain stupid? Either way, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This was better than TV. The woman stared straight ahead, acknowledging NO ONE. She didn't change her pace nor react in any way. She had been walking with another guy the whole time (illustrated). She didn't acknowledge him, either. When she reached her apartment, the desperate guy pretended to walk ahead but kept returning as if he didn't want the opportunity to get away. Sadly for him, there never was one. Her "friend" left without a word. I put that in quotes because I thought they were friends or lovers, but her lack of ANY kind of familiarity with him led me to believe that maybe she didn't even know the guy; maybe he was just SOME GUY who found it a privilege to walk next to her. Can one person have that much effect on the male population?

     I finally saw her from the front as I passed by fishing her keys from a little pink purse. She was beautiful from that angle, too. She was gorgeous EVERYWHERE. I was in awe.

     Perfection like that is one in a million, right? WRONG! According to my husband she has an identical twin who even dresses like she does. Yes, in my neighborhood there are TWO of them, walking around hypnotizing men and leaving the women feeling inadequate. 

The Universe is that cruel.

HOLD FOR THE LAST TIME THEN SLIP AWAY, QUIETLY

THESE 40 DAYS

I gave up Facebook for Lent. Every year I give up something, more to test my resolve than anything else, though in previous years the act itself was the end-all, be-all until normal life resumes. But not this year.


     I'm losing my way as an artist. Sketching, painting, blogs, website and projects that urgently needed completion were, while not abandoned, took a back seat. Where was I? On Facebook. Texting. My phone was practically stuck to my face. The amount of hours I spent on Facebook in particular was embarrassing. I wasn’t even sure I was enjoying it all that much; I just couldn’t stop. True, it was a year of much work and tight deadlines. Often I came home already feeling like a zombie. But still, no excuses, right?


     Two things happened this year that firmed my resolve about giving up Facebook for 40 days, both having to do with Newbery Honor recipient Grace Lin. I’ve always admired Grace’s work. She’s mastered the art of storytelling, whittled down to its most essential elements. Nothing ostentatious, no multilayered galaxies expanding parallel universes. But when she writes, it sticks. The Year of the Rat still resonates with me, long after I designed it. And when I read the line “You only lose what you hold onto.” in Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, I downright bawled. So you can only imagine how I felt when she visited the office, and while I was being introduced by uber-editor Alvina Ling as the designer for The Year of the Rat, Grace said, “Oh yeah, and also mercadoodles.” My mind paused. She remembers me as mercadoodles. That is so AWESOME.


     The second catalyst was Grace’s post on Chinese New Year. It’s the Year of the Tiger—a year to be brave and take risks. And that is exactly what I intend to do, to be brave and go after my passion, which is painting pictures (designing is a close second). I’ve set up short-term goals during my Facebook hiatus. There are a few projects I need to reclaim, and by the time Easter rolls around, I not only intend to have successfully lasted 40 days without this “time-suck”, but have accomplished what I set out to do. Stay tuned!

MOUNTAINTOP

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