mercadoodles

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

2012-01-17T18:46:00.001-05:00

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

EARTHBENDER VERSUS AIRBENDER

2011-11-19T02:06:00.002-05:00

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

2011-07-12T09:58:00.003-04:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOB!

AMERICAN GOTHIC MEETS BURNING MAN

2011-07-04T14:46:00.004-04:00

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

THE GALLERY PROJECT PART 3: THE FINAL ART

2011-03-21T13:05:00.002-04:00

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

2011-03-21T00:00:00.002-04:00

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

2011-02-27T16:04:00.007-05:00

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

I wanted more than the cycle of going from Point A (home) to Point B (work). I also have a passion for drawing and painting, and the lack of balance between art and design made me feel lost. But without a real purpose for doing so, it was difficult to get motivated to paint. I finally confided in a colleague this want for more. She looked at me strangely.

"You...didn't get Kirk's email?"

"Kirk's email? What email?"

"Yeah, he just emailed something that's exactly what you were talking about. Go check and see."

I went back to my desk and found this:

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

2010-12-28T12:49:00.000-05:00

TRAVELING THE WORLD, FUELING MY JEALOUSY

2010-12-23T12:10:00.001-05:00

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...

2010-12-17T10:47:00.000-05:00

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

2010-11-08T10:26:00.001-05:00

CHICAGO 2010 BEST. DAY. EVER Part Four: THE FLAT TIRE

2010-08-19T12:28:00.008-04:00

That night Darrell, Caroline, Neil and I went out. We weren't five minutes from the door when we heard a thump like we just ran over something, maybe it was a can of Coke or a bottle. Shortly after, a cop car signaled for us to stop. We were confused. Darrell hadn't pulled any traffic violations. He drove into a supermarket parking lot.

"Is there anything wrong, officer?" Darrell asked as he got out of the car. He must have looked frightened because the cop was LAUGHING at us.

"Your hubcap fell back there." We were relieved that that was all, until I heard Darrell curse. He was looking at one of the front tires. It was completely flat. How did we even get this far without noticing this?

"There's a tire place over there." I looked up, and there was a strange man pointing at a tire place a block away. Where'd he come from? He wasn't there a second ago. Neil and Caroline fetched the hubcap while Darrell called AAA because we didn't have the equipment to change the tire. Honestly, none of us really knew how. The operator said it would take an hour and 45 minutes.

"How are we going to kill an hour?" Neil asked.

And there it was, right in front of us across the street: Logan Bar. Perfect view of the parking lot and situated almost exactly between the place where the hubcap fell off and Hercules Tires. By this time I was convinced this was all fate. As we sat down, Neil pointed at the menu.

"Look," he said, "there's a drink here called The Fat Tire."

"A Fat Tire for your flat tire," said Neil and Darrell in unison.

"Best flat tire ever," said Neil.

"Best DAY ever," said Darrell.

Our waitress took a liking to Darrell. She paid attention only to him even when someone else was ordering. I ordered a Buffalo Calamari for the table, something no one but me apparently had had before, but they thought it was delicious. Suddenly Darrell jumped up.

"Triple A!" He ran out the door, followed closely by Neil. Caroline and I watched them across the street. They were in awe of the man who changed their tires in no time flat (haha). Later, they came up with the slogan "You're not a real man until you let another man change your tires."

Shortly after driving to Hercules, Caroline turned to me. "I see you have a friend named Kara, too. You mention her in your status updates."

"Yeah, Kara's a character," I said and would have gone on, but I sensed that Caroline wanted to talk about her Kara. Her close friend had been on her way home, elated from having passed a Nursing exam when a car ran a red light and struck her. Kara died, the man in the other car didn't. Nor did he suffer much consequence as a result of this act. Caroline went on to talk about how close they were, how they would go to each other's houses, and how she still went to Kara's to say hi to her family. Once in a while she would come across an old email exchange, and it would be like Kara "was still there, sending messages."

Caroline and I had never been particularly close. We were mostly in each other's backgrounds. But her story made me realize just how fragile life is. How, in the end, in the midst of our to-do lists, our itineraries, our appointments, life is chaos. At any moment, it all could be taken away. What are we going to do in the meantime?

Life is chaotic and delicate and every breath is a gift. We don't know when our time is up. We don't know if the words "Honey, don't forget to buy toilet paper," might actually be the last words we say to our spouse. We don't know ANYTHING. And those who claim they do are arrogant hypocrites.

It didn't occur to me to hug Caroline. I've always been awkward like that. But maybe it was enough just to share the moment.

Darrell and Neil returned, impressed at the speed of the guy who patched the flat tire and happy that it only cost fifteen bucks. The waitress who ignored us in Darrell's absence was once again attentive to us in his presence. I paid for the bill, and they thanked me.

"What? No cheers?" So Darrell, Neil and Caroline hooted and hollered and chanted my name and my home state. "JERSEY! JERSEY! JERSEY!"

A stranger approached us, took a shot, and cheered as well. "I don't know what you're celebrating but you are the happiest table here."

"We're celebrating the best day ever," said Neil.

Great food in a clean and beautiful city? YEAH! Dollar jello shots? OH, YEAH! Serendipitous flat tire? HELL YEAH! A profound, life-affirming conversation? BEST. DAY. EVER.

CHICAGO 2010 BEST. DAY. EVER Part Three: MILLENIUM PARK AND UBERSTEINS

2010-08-19T11:51:00.006-04:00

The heat was unbearable and it was a relief to find ourselves in Millenium Park, where in one area, two structures towered over and spilled, sprayed, and spewed water. Children (and some grown-ups) squealed as they splashed about. Some people waded through to cool off. Once every few minutes, water spewed out in a steady stream and kids gather underneath it to get soaked. It looked like the tower was peeing on them, and I couldn't find the appeal in it. I didn't want to leave this part of Chicago, though. It was too hot to go anywhere else.

The next stop was Wrigley Field jam-packed with bars. It was like being in a college town without the college. Amidst the raucous cacophony of people selling tickets, buying tickets, yelling for their teams (there was a game going on) or otherwise getting drunk in the middle of the day, we made our way to Ubersteins. It was not an extraordinary bar by any means. The decor was humble and the furniture was sticky. The World Cup was on all the screens. They offered one-liter steins, hence the name. I ordered half of one. It was the perfect end to a fun but exhausting day. Stories were told as we sipped our beers, mostly of drunkenness, of my little brother either throwing up or peeing or both in random places, of Neil passing out in his backyard after a drunken binge.

". . . and then we heard tsinelas (flip-flops) and so we threw Neil in the bushes when his Dad came out."

Duando had gotten drunk faster than the rest of us, having chugged his liter and then finished mine. He pretended to be sober and failed comically.

We were almost to the train station when Caroline spotted a sign."Ooh! Dollar jello shots!" We went in the bar, took our shots and left as quickly. We cheered Caroline for spotting the sign and for paying for the shots.

CHICAGO 2010 BEST. DAY. EVER Part Two: LAWRY'S

2010-08-19T11:28:00.009-04:00

Lawry's was old school fancy, with ornate leather seats and deep comfortable booths. The wood paneling made me feel like I was in some exclusive country club. For $14.00 we had a plate full of good food: a prime rib sandwich with perfectly cooked meat, a salad and free side dishes. Creamed corn was extra, but Darrell swore it was worth it and he was right. Halfway through the meal, Neil was serenading his sandwich. "You are the best sandwich, ever," he crooned. It was then that I learned the meaning of Zsosh!

Zsosh, from what I understand, is an expression of gluttony, triggered by what either Neil or Caroline (or both?) saw at a supermarket in San Diego: a big man walking down the frozen food aisle carrying three one-gallon ice cream tubs stacked on top of one another, and he was eating out of the top one with a spoon.

"Wait," said Darrell, "Where did he get the spoon?"

Pause.

"Oh, shit." Neil said, and everyone laughed. Somewhere out there is a man who loves ice cream so much, he goes to the supermarket armed with his own spoon. Does he keep it in his pocket or does he charge into the market with the spoon in his fist? Does he have an extra? Maybe he hides them in his sleeve and, like Antonio Banderas in Desperado, whips them out at the sight of mocha chocolate chip.

Speaking of Zsosh, Neil was still hungry in spite of all he had eaten.

"Kat, are you gonna finish that creamed corn?" he asked his sister, who was sitting across the large round table.

"Why? Do you want it?" she asked. He nodded. "Here." and she pushed the dish towards him. Neil pounced on the dish, fork in hand, but stopped short and instead looked awkward and confused because when Kat said "Here," she only pushed the plate in his direction about half an inch. Way to go, Kat. The whole table erupted in laughter. Our bellies filled with prime rib sandwiches, we headed out in a much better mood, and this time we really didn't care where we were headed. Honest.

CHICAGO 2010: BEST. DAY. EVER. Part One: HUNGRY

2010-08-19T10:55:00.006-04:00

In a city that felt familiar before I even set foot in it, there was still one day that was singularly the Best. Day. Ever.

Darrell was taking us to downtown Chicago via the blue line from the California station. This is where I felt most at home: the train. Convinced that if I can figure out the NYC subway system I can figure out any system, Chicago was a welcome challenge. The city's trains were mostly above ground, which I imagine would be brutal in the winter.

We started our trek on Michigan Avenue, a super touristy area littered with big retail stores. Old architecture mixed in with the new and, unlike Manhattan, no one was in a hurry. The streets were also impeccably clean. That left me stunned.

The mood of the group, which consisted of me, the twins Kat and Anne, RJ, Duando, Neil and Caroline, and sweet, dimpled Darrell, was mixed. We were jolly and excited with a tinge of crankiness for not having eaten breakfast. Darrell didn't know where to take us except to a mall where we wrinkled our noses at the mall food while simultaneously insisting that "We don't care where we eat. Honest." Sometimes being a tour guide is a lot like babysitting adults. It was then that the proverbial light bulb lit up in Darrell's head, and he said with a smile, "There's a place called Lawry's."

TWO THINGS I DISCOVERED BECAUSE I HAVE NO LIFE

2010-07-25T23:02:00.005-04:00

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

"Yes. Yes, I am." I said miserably.

"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 looked away.

"I know."

Great. He was feeling sorry for me. I was starting to feel sorry for myself. Could chicks and bunnies really be so important as to have me spend my Friday night at the office while everyone else was starting to enjoy their weekend? What choice did I have?

The maintenance guy left after he realized that I was in no mood for a conversation. 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. I only wish I didn't have to stay so late to experience them.

KITTEN IN A BASKET

2010-07-24T02:39:00.000-04:00

RAIN

2010-05-11T17:47:00.001-04:00

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

2010-04-30T18:06:00.000-04:00

CHECKERED TIGHTS

2010-04-27T22:57:00.013-04:00

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 hot 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 "Holy shit! Did you SEE her?!" 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. She was fishing her keys from the little pink purse. She was beautiful from that angle, too. Can you really blame the desperate guy from trying? She was gorgeous EVERYWHERE. Her large but perky breasts were as equally perfect as her butt. I wanted to look EXACTLY like her. 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.

God is that cruel.

HOLD FOR THE LAST TIME THEN SLIP AWAY, QUIETLY

2010-04-26T21:20:00.003-04:00

THESE 40 DAYS

2010-02-23T16:01:00.004-05:00

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.

     It’s no surprise to anyone I know that my 2009 was terrible. Without going into detail, let me just say I lost my way, especially 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 and incomprehensible stress in general. Often I came home already feeling like a zombie. But still.

     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

2010-02-12T08:13:00.000-05:00

MAYWEATHER VS MARQUEZ

2009-09-24T23:06:00.013-04:00

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

2009-09-15T23:47:00.004-04:00

MAGRITTE AND CATERPILLARS

2009-08-31T02:02:00.005-04:00

Just for fun

WHICH ONE IS BETTER?

2009-08-11T01:30:00.008-04:00

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

2009-08-06T01:01:00.001-04:00

(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

2009-06-28T20:33:00.002-04:00

CENTRAL PARK ON A SUNNY DAY

2009-06-28T20:31:00.002-04:00

THE WOMAN AT GRAND CENTRAL STATION

2009-06-28T20:22:00.003-04:00

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

2009-04-05T22:03:00.006-04:00

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

2008-12-23T19:19:00.012-05:00

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

2008-11-09T12:30:00.003-05:00

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

SO TOGETHER

2008-11-09T10:15:00.003-05:00

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

2008-11-05T01:49:00.006-05:00

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

2008-11-01T09:04:00.003-04:00

. . . where I die a little each day.

It's been a horrid month.

DEER SKULL

2008-10-26T08:41:00.002-04:00

VIEW FROM WINDOW

2008-10-26T08:39:00.002-04:00

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.

SWEET CREAMS FINAL PIECE

2008-10-12T15:58:00.003-04:00

SOLD!!!

SWEET CREAMS SKETCH

2008-10-11T19:07:00.005-04:00

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

2008-10-11T18:43:00.005-04:00

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

SAY YES

2008-09-10T17:34:00.001-04:00

"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

2008-09-06T10:24:00.005-04:00

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!).

ADVERTISING AND MODERN ART

2008-08-26T00:31:00.001-04:00

"The thing I hate most about advertising is that it attracts all the bright, creative and ambitious young people, leaving us mainly with the slow and self-obsessed to become our artists. Modern art is a disaster area. Never in the field of human history has so much been used by so many to say so little." —Banksy

SQUARE HEAD

2008-07-12T10:25:00.002-04:00

SLEEPY FASHIONISTA

2008-07-12T10:24:00.005-04:00

THE MAGIC IS GONE

2008-07-12T10:24:00.002-04:00

HAPPY DANCE!

2008-06-27T00:36:00.003-04:00

CREATION

2008-06-14T22:33:00.004-04:00

PORTRAIT COMMISSION

2008-06-14T01:59:00.003-04:00

ARE YOU ALIVE?

2008-05-30T16:48:00.002-04:00

"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book . . . or you take a trip . . . and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating . . . Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this). They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children.

And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song and it awakens them and saves them from death.

Some never awaken." —Anais Nin

THEY FLOAT, GEORGIE, THEY FLOAT

2008-05-11T08:16:00.012-04:00

On someone's birthday, my department has a "meeting". Sarah would go out and get sweets, birthday candles and plates, etc...My birthday was the first one to be celebrated after she had left the company. Still, I was excited to see what my birthday treat was going to be.

When I entered the room, I was greeted by THIS. The creepiest cake in all of existence. It was like being haunted by Stephen King's "It" times four. Decapitated clown heads peeping out of icing. I half-expected them to open their dead eyes, look at me, and say "Boo!". There were no birthday candles. "That's what happens when Sarah's gone." was the explanation I got when I guess I couldn't hide my horrified face. What came to my head as I cut the cake and as I scanned around the room at the faces of people there were A) Sarah was really good at what she did and B) Gee, I hope blood doesn't start oozing out of this thing.

But in the end I truly appreciated the person who bought the cake because at least someone remembered to get one. It made for a great story and an even better sketch.

And I'm a fan of Tim Curry.

BIRTHDAY LUNCH

2008-05-11T08:09:00.002-04:00

I loved my birthday lunch! Thank you, Saho!

KEAGON MONSTER

2008-05-11T07:45:00.006-04:00

I haven't posted in a while. Kara swears it's my recent addiction to Battlestar Galactica. So I'm starting off this new set of posts with my nephew, the little Keagon Monster. Because he makes me smile. I sketched him as a Mothers Day Present for my sister-in-law, Hannah.

WHEN YOUR MODEL SUCKS LEMONS . . .

2008-04-15T23:23:00.013-04:00

There is as much art in BEING a figure drawing model as there is in drawing one. The best models resemble dancers frozen in time. He was not one of them. With his blond 'fro reminiscent of 1970's porn stars, his short, one-minute poses were a little unsettling, but his long poses made my eyes glaze over. I caught the face of another artist whose gesture mirrored how I felt and decided he was more interesting to draw and paint. I was so bored that I started to experiment with using different mediums, and oddly enough, the most screamingly boring model in the universe allowed me to produce the most interesting drawings I've done in a class.

LEXINGTON AVENUE POST OFFICE

2008-04-10T21:22:00.005-04:00

For once I am glad that the post office has long, slow-moving lines! I was waiting for Saho, who was mailing an oversized envelope to Japan. I realized what a wonderful opportunity it was for figure drawing! I was fascinated by how differently people stood and carried packages and letters. At first glance, everyone looked the same, stood the same way, but sketching made me appreciate the gestures and mannerisms that make us all individuals. I made little color notes in case I decided to make this into a painting.

SKETCHCRAWL 3.29.08

2008-04-09T23:09:00.012-04:00

Sure took me a long time to upload these babies! This is roughly half a day's worth of sketching on the spot, plus twice that many hours and then some to ink and paint them all. Exhausting but worth it! I've decided not to clutter up my blog with 19 pages worth of sketches so I have uploaded them to my Flickr site as well as the group's. I do have my favorites here.

MY FRIEND GEORGE

2008-03-27T00:33:00.008-04:00

According to him, he is over seven feet tall with short stubby legs. Also, he is fond of saying that he is an Author/Illustrator (Just kidding!...sort of). Check out George's blog!

MY GOD, ARE YOU ALWAYS ON?

2008-03-22T09:30:00.007-04:00

Good ol' Monty Burns. Best Simpson line ever.

Went to a record release party where my friend Ben (or as the cool people know him, Royal Sapien) was a DJ. This guy excels at everything he does. Book designer by day and record producer by night, he also DJs all over the country. His mind is always, ALWAYS working, and he consistently follows through with his ideas. Most of us, including myself, just have ideas. Oftentimes I get lazy after work and want to do NOTHING but be a zombie until bedtime. Then I think of Ben, who produces records, remixes, promotes himself and does freelance design until 2 or 3 or 4 in the morning EVERY DAY and I feel too embarrassed for myself to keep whining. So I take out the paintbrushes.

Ben FINALLY had a gig in New York City last Thursday, to which I happily dragged my old, creaky, whiny body, and I had a GREAT time! There were other coworkers there supporting him. It was exciting to finally see Ben in action. He was AWESOME!

Ever the quintessential art nerd, I was observing the contrast of light between the almost sickly green glow of the DJ booth and the deep reds and yellows on Kirk's face as it was being illuminated by candlelight. After much debating, yes, I whipped out my sketchbook in a CLUB and furiously and quickly blocked in their shapes and shadows so I could paint at home. Fatimah looked over at me, confused, and asked Alvina, "Is Maria...READING?", which I found hilarious. But in my defense, I'm not THAT nerdy.

MINI SKETCH CRAWL

2008-03-16T11:28:00.007-04:00

Hamilton Park, Jersey City

The day was just too gorgeous. I spent part of the afternoon sketching at Hamilton Park in preparation for the Worldwide Sketch Crawl, which will be on March 29. The idea of waking up on the morning of the Crawl and drawing nonstop for an entire day felt daunting, so I've decided to do "mini-crawls" until then, to get some practice.

FInd out more about Sketch Crawl here.

ALEXIS

2008-03-09T16:35:00.003-04:00

I promised Stefan that I would give him a painting for his birthday. So I painted Landon (Head to Toe). But since he's got two kids, it's only fair that I paint Alexis, too.

THE ONE-HAIR PAINTBRUSH

2008-03-02T13:01:00.004-05:00

I outlined my design ideas for a book I was working on to my boss a few days ago. She looked at me thoughtfully and smiled in amusement before making suggestions on how to streamline what I wanted to do. Apparently, the steps I had decided to take in order to complete this project was needlessly complicated.

"Sometimes," she said, "you have to think about what would make it the easiest for you. The result will still be the same. I'm trying to get you to stop using a one-hair paintbrush, Maria, and get you to start using a roller. It's faster."

HEAD TO TOE

2008-02-26T00:18:00.005-05:00

It started with an email from Stefan. In my inbox were two messages: One was labeled "Head" and attached was a picture of Landon's head. The other was labeled "to toe" and attached was a picture of Landon's feet. He didn't write anything more.

How intriguing and clever, I thought. This deserves more than my usual reply. I wanted to cause a reaction. I decided to paint a portrait of Landon. Because I've never met the little kid, I couldn't get a handle on his proportions, his little quirks, his mannerisms. I looked through many photos that had been posted and played Dr. Frankenstein. I took the best forehead from this photo, the best right cheek from that photo, the best left eye from a third, and so on. I figured this was the best way to get the jist of him, and it was. But it was lot of work. When I was done, I couldn't tell anymore whether or not it looked like Landon. It was also 2:30 in the morning, and I was starting to get loopy.

I replied to Stefan, attached the portrait, and wrote back: "Just head".

The next morning I opened my email and caught sight of the first three words of his reply:

"OH MY GOD."

I smiled. Yeah, it was worth it.

TWO BALD GUYS ON THE PATH

2008-02-24T20:00:00.002-05:00

YELLOW CAP

2008-02-24T19:48:00.007-05:00

Loved the yellow cap. Her parents pushed her around in a toy shaped like a car, then carried her to her high chair. She couldn't walk yet and only grunted without any attempt to form any words. I thought she was about 8 months old.

"How old is your baby?" my friend Kara asked, as she and her husband chased their daughter Hana, who was walking around the food court and trying to ride the little girl's car.

"Fourteen months," the Dad answered. My eyes grew wide in disbelief. I quickly composed myself back to my poker face. "How old is your daughter?" he asked.

"Fifteen months," Kara answered. There was a brief uncomfortable silence before Kara changed the subject.

OOMPA LOOMPA

2008-02-24T19:43:00.003-05:00

So this is where their women went.

February 15, 8:30 A.M. She crossed in front of me on the street, donned in black, her face a shocking orange. The Oompa Loompa song stayed in my head all day.

IN MY ELEMENT

2008-02-20T23:04:00.008-05:00

I have to preface this by saying: It's been a while.

And by a while I don't mean a few months ago. I mean, the last time I drew a nude model, President Bush wasn't in office yet, we have not gotten ourselves into this useless war, and the year started with a "19". It's been a WHILE. So when Saho invited me to a Life Drawing class at the Spring Studio, I jumped at the chance.

I'd forgotten how much I felt at home in that kind of environment! The hush of the art studio, the nude model in the center...the utter concentration as charcoal hit paper and all thoughts disappeared...it was heaven. I was in my element.

It didn't start out that way. At the very first pose, my hand, having been out of practice, froze. It resisted movement, as if to say "What is this you're doing?". It didn't take long, however, before I found my comfortable rhythm. Three hours of drawing later, my back ached fiercely, my hand was starting to cramp, my head was swimming, I was exhausted, hungry—and loving every minute of it!

Our model was FANTASTIC. He was lean and muscular, and most importantly, he knew how to pose. I could not have asked for a better model.

Here are some of the results from my first figure drawing class in ten years. Please be gentle.

ANNELISE

2008-02-16T02:56:00.005-05:00

This is the best I could do with Annelise. Being a toddler, she didn't sit still for very long, and I couldn't get a handle on her proportions. Perhaps I should try James Gurney's Flash-Glance Method.

ADAM RECLINING

2008-02-12T23:18:00.003-05:00

AMALIA

2008-02-12T22:12:00.003-05:00

Her name is not really Amalia. But she looked like one to me. Sketched her today on the PATH train during my commute home.

INTERESTING

2008-01-26T10:25:00.001-05:00

Whenever I draw people on the train (which is where I do a lot of sketching), I don't look for pretty people. I look for interesting people. Generic beauty is all about proportions—the more perfect the proportions, the prettier the person. A whole industry is thriving based on this idea. People pay a lot of money to have the perfect ski slope nose, the insanely straight and freakishly white teeth, bochillism injected on faces to paralyze them, plastic parts added to the chin, the cheek, the butt, the breasts.

BLECH. I'm glad that there are still people left in my little corner of the universe that are more intriguing than pretty. I only ever have a couple of minutes to draw someone. I look at the person for a few seconds, imprint his or her face in my brain, draw the rest from memory and look up again only when the memory fails. Sometimes I have to pretend that I'm really just looking into space, deep in thought, lest I look like the Freak That Stares At You In The Subway. So I only scan for people whose facial features actually stand out. They are the ones I find truly beautiful.

The man above was painted in acrylic using mostly five colors (viridian, burnt umber, yellow ochre, cadmium yellow medium and white) and a little cerulean blue in the background. The limited palette was a fun challenge, and a friend had mentioned that it made the painting look "richer".

I actually didn't draw this man from life. I was so absorbed in my own world, that I didn't notice him until I was on my way out, and the train doors were about to close. I quickly memorized his face, and paused at the train station to draw him before the memory faded, then headed home.

This guy I didn't find so beautiful, but only because he kept talking to himself and muttering nonsensical words and his large eyes darted everywhere. It was a bit unsettling. I got his face down and made up the rest.

A TRIP TO A SUPERSTORE

2008-01-21T14:01:00.003-05:00

My husband and I were in East Stroudsburg, PA again this past weekend, visiting good friends. On Saturday, they went food shopping, and I tagged along. Having just woken up from a nap, I was still a bit groggy and my senses were dull. The bright, green-white glare of the fluorescent lights greeted us as we walked through the automatic doors.

I looked up and gasped audibly, grateful that the noise level was much too high for anyone to have heard. In front of me was this woman.

She was the largest woman I had ever encountered, over 600 pounds. She sat in a wheelchair the size of a golf cart, picking up shopping bags off the floor with one hand and stringing them like bracelets on her other arm. She struggled with the last one. I said "Do you need help?" before I could stop myself. Right away I knew that was the wrong thing to do, and I felt terrible. "No thanks, I'm fine," she said. And to prove that she was, she picked up the last bag with zest.

When it came time to pay for our groceries, the cashier, also overweight herself, watched our friends' baby sentimentally. "I want a baby so badly," she told us, "But I'm pre-diabetic." She looked barely over twenty years old. I was too stunned to say anything. I thought back to all the people I work with: young, skinny , beautiful and still feel the need to lose more weight or be fit. It is not until I get out of the city that I realize that obesity truly is an epidemic in this country.

BABY AND SPOONER

2008-01-20T23:10:00.000-05:00

This is Baby. She came with the name and responded to it, so her owners didn't change her it. A very sweet dog, very loving, very needy. She will stick to you like glue, waiting to be petted or fed. And I fell for it almost every time.

This one is Spooner, even more needy than Baby, and very demanding (I have scratch marks).

Trying to fit a big dog in a little page. I wanted to see if I could loosen up and paint without line, or even sketching. I get a bit noodle-y sometimes. Even though all the proportions are off, I like the way it turned out. The spirit was there.

GODDESS AT DAWN

2008-01-17T00:08:00.001-05:00

This was done a while back. The hair was so much fun to paint! One of my favorite discoveries is using ultramarine blue and sienna brown or burnt umber instead of ivory black. It has so much more depth. I don't use pure black pigment anymore if I can help it, though I've used payne's gray every so often.

MAKING PEACE WITH LINE

2008-01-01T22:10:00.001-05:00

When it was first suggested to me that I should use line to enhance my watercolor paintings, I naturally resisted. My Taurean stubbornness preferred things the way they were. And I loved the way watercolor danced on the paper like a child at play. I thought I would lose this spontaneity if I added line.

"You can still paint the way you do," insisted my friend George, "but I really, really think that line will tie all your colors together and give your painting an anchor." I glared at him.

Begrudgingly, I tried it his way. I resisted every moment and cursed his name for bringing it up in the first place. But I HAD to try it, because what if he were right? Would I deny myself a discovery because I hated change? Better to prove him wrong through effort, I thought, than to always wonder.

Whole watercolor pads were sacrificed to this new way. I tried it all—thick line, thin line, rapidograph, quill pens, gel pens...until finally, a breakthrough! I mindlessly made a quick sketch in an unused corner of a scrap watercolor paper. And this child was born.

A whole new world opened up. Black line, it seemed, dominated my watercolor marks, but a sepia-toned line gave it ground without overpowering it. Encouraged, I worked some more, my pile of rejected art growing ever higher. Finally I came up with a piece that I am most proud of. Drawing and painting it felt effortless, and it turned out to be one of the few paintings that I am completely satisfied with.

This is what it looked like when I did it in just the watercolor:

And this is what the pen and ink with watercolor version looks like:

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2008-01-01T21:54:00.000-05:00

"If you were born with a gift, then you must serve it. Nothing in this world or out of it may stand in the way of that service. Because that is why you are born. And that is the law." —Susan Cooper, The Dark is Rising

I've been thinking about what kind of artist I am. I've struggled with different mediums, trying to find my voice. All the images that were previously posted seem random at best. So I'm going to give this blog a purpose and a direction. And use it as a way to record my journey as an artist and hopefully serve the gift I was given.

YAY YISHAI!

2007-12-16T19:01:00.000-05:00

"My Daddy has a blog!"

That's what she would say if she could, but she's only 13 months old, so it will probably sound more like "kjhrheruhfvouwazza!"

ROOFTOP

2007-12-03T19:14:00.001-05:00

KID ON THE TRAIN

2007-12-03T19:10:00.000-05:00

PATH COMMUTERS AT 33RD STREET

2007-12-03T19:08:00.000-05:00

SICK DAY

2007-12-03T19:03:00.000-05:00

Sick days are only awesome if you're faking it. This was me all day.

THANKSGIVING 2007

2007-11-24T17:04:00.000-05:00

I spent Thanksgiving Day here, at John and Karen's house. I felt like I stepped into a magazine photo. Martha Stewart's got nothing on Karen. She made an entire Thanksgiving dinner, Hors D'oueuvres included, wearing a bleach-white button down shirt that stayed clean and perfect throughout the entire evening. And the food was just amazing. I wish I had taken more pictures! I only have this one.

GOODFELLAS SKY

2007-11-24T17:00:00.001-05:00

This was the sky outside of Goodfellas that night.

GOODFELLAS

2007-11-24T16:55:00.000-05:00

My in-laws took my husband and I to a cool joint called "Goodfellas". This was their JUNIOR bacon cheeseburger. In this instance, a picture is more effective than anything I could ever draw.

KEAGON'S 1ST BIRTHDAY

2007-11-24T16:53:00.000-05:00

I am entirely convinced that babies find their first birthdays traumatizing.

NEWARK AIRPORT

2007-11-24T16:52:00.000-05:00

A loud yet unremarkable family

SMUDGE

2007-11-24T16:51:00.000-05:00

RESTAURANT

2007-11-24T16:48:00.000-05:00

NATIONAL BOOK AWARD

2007-11-24T16:29:00.001-05:00

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian is one of my favorite books of all time, so I was really rooting for it. I rolled out of bed on November 15 and immediately went online to see who has won the National Book Award. There was much joyful shrieking afterwards. Congratulations, Sherman Alexie! Let's do a cheesy happy dance! Whoo-hoo!

KITTY PATTERN

2007-10-29T01:00:00.001-04:00

HANA'S FIRST BIRTHDAY

2007-10-28T23:51:00.000-04:00

RED ROCKS

2007-10-27T18:55:00.001-04:00

GRAY DAYS

2007-10-27T13:00:00.000-04:00

Ominous
I've lost myself in my work. And not the good kind of work, either. Not the painting until my back aches kind. No, it's the "pay-the-bills" work that I need to recover from. There was a time when even this was gratifying, but lately, I feel that my life has been getting sucked out of me. The hours I spend there, even bringing it home . . . it's just not worth it.

So perhaps it was Providence that a senior editor had asked me, along with two others, to speak with Women in Animation. When I checked out their site, it led me to blogs of various animators. There's a lot of beautiful art out there. Now I have a need to be an artist again, to leave the computer and pick up a paint brush. To get lost in the good kind of work.

CONNIE IN COLOR

2007-10-24T01:05:00.001-04:00

I haven't had much time to post anything these past few weeks; my job dominated my world. But after looking through a few blogs, I was filled with the hunger to paint. I used gouache and acrylic, which I have not touched in years. Painting with them was like meeting up with old friends from long ago- a little awkward, a little unsure, but still comforting in its familiarity.

Why Connie? Why not?

I GET YOU WHEN YOU'RE SLEEPING

2007-10-01T01:24:00.000-04:00

MEETINGS

2007-09-18T23:18:00.000-04:00

This is what I do at meetings. But not all the time, I swear.

LINE VS. COLOR

2007-09-18T23:12:00.000-04:00

Been struggling with the idea of line vs. color lately. Working on a project that could go either way (or maybe a mix of both?).

OLD MAN ON THE PATH

2007-09-12T22:09:00.001-04:00

THEATER

2007-09-06T02:28:00.000-04:00