
Posts Tagged ‘Blog’
Perhaps the first time the title comes close to fitting!
Saturday, April 25th, 2009
Like month old fruit juice.
Wednesday, December 10th, 2008
Yesterday I was spoiled. Not simply because of the snow day (our office was closed for the day!) but because of how I spent my day. Determined to be productive, I set up camp in my long neglected studio, put my favorite records on, and got to work on an art project (a watercolor/ink illustration, if you’re keeping score). Normally I don’t have the time or energy to work on projects like this, what with the day job and all (don’t get me wrong, I love my day job). Weekends, too, are often too busy for much creativity, so it was extremely nice to have a free day with nothing pressing to do and nowhere to go.
The reason I say I was spoiled is because I had a taste of what it might feel like to be a real working artist. I mean, there are people who are able to do this for a living – their work day is going into the studio, putting on their favorite records, and just creating. How fun would that be? I’d venture to put them in the same category as professional athletes, rock stars, and actors… they get paid to play! Well, okay, most artists aren’t earning a fraction of what professional athletes, rock stars, and actors earn, but you know what I mean. You get it. There are some artists who aren’t starving, and who aren’t working a “day job” and saving all of their projects for the rare occasion of a snow day. The challenge, I guess, is becoming one of those artists.
Unrelated, I had an anti-genius idea today to create a search engine called “Irrelevant” in which all of the search results are completely unrelated to whatever your search words were. Wouldn’t that be novel? And annoying? And completely useless? Remarkably, the domain name www dot irrelevant dot com seems to be available. If I was a different kind of person I would snatch that up. You can be the snatchers, friends. You can make my idea come to life.
Y2K? Really?*
Wednesday, October 15th, 2008
Well, clearly I’m going for a new look here, and clearly I’m not quite there (at least that part is clear to me). Expect numerous changes in the next few days as I fumble around with graphic design in the same way that I paint… millions of do-overs (in painting I guess we call them layers). I’m awful at graphic design. All I can do is scribble, really. But if I’m going to be a scribbler, I might as well get my scribbling down to a master-form!
Moving on, people are beginning to get panic in their voices when they talk about the coming winter. They refer to the Farmer’s Almanac with the same mix of fear and disgust that they use discussing Bin Laden or Y2K. Last year we broke the record snow fall with over 100 inches of snow. This year we are supposed to get over 120 inches. I read a nice column in the paper today in support of human hibernation. I think I like that. Let’s be bears.
*I couldn’t think of a better example.
Canadian Cold Feet.
Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

When I say that I’m German and French, I guess what I really mean is that I’m German and French Canadian. So I’ll be planning a visit to Montreal to explore my roots.
When I say that I’m working on a graphic novel, what I really mean is that I’m standing at the base of this mountain and I’m excited but a little bit scared to death of the climb. Okay so I’m holding this grappling hook and don’t quite know how to use it, although I know its uses are endless and my potential, too, is pretty great if I could just figure it out. It’s that nervous feeling you get when you’re about to give the speech of your lifetime, or when you suspect that you’re beginning to fall in love. Things could go either way, success or disappointment. Learning is inevitable. It’s a great place to be, but at the same time there is something so comforting about stable, solid, sea-level ground. Sometimes it’s hard to take those upward steps.
Metaphorical enough for ya?
When art feels right.
Thursday, September 11th, 2008
So…I’m working on a graphic novel. I don’t know why I haven’t written about it here yet. Well, yes I do. I haven’t written about it because as long as no one knows about it I can’t be expected to finish it, and that takes a lot of pressure off. Except that I need a little pressure. I wouldn’t have completed my NaNoWriMo manuscript last year if I weren’t constantly mouthing off about it here. And besides that, I’ve already started talking to people about it in the non-digital world. It’s partly an accountability thing, but it’s also just really exciting for me and I want to talk about it! Let me put it down in black-and-white: before I die I would like to finish this book. Or a different one completely, but I’ve already got a decent start on this one. It feels like things are clicking, you know? And I’m not talking about the story which needs quite a bit of work, but I’m talking about the entire creative process. I feel like I’ve fumbled around looking for the right way to use my interests and talents and maybe I’ve finally gotten on the right track. I really do love this comic book stuff, and I like drawing and I like writing and I want whatever I do to be accessible to anyone who wants it, not just some wealthy art collector. This feels right. And I worry that by writing statements like that I might be inflating my expectations and setting myself up for disappointment, but I guess that’s a risk I’ll take. I feel like there may be a few more risks involved with this whole process anyway.
You want to own this.
Saturday, September 6th, 2008
It’s a social art experiment. It’s not pretty, it’s not exactly clever. Is it art? Why not? Do you want to hang it in your home? Would you be embarassed to show it to friends, and tell them you paid $1000 for it (even if you really got it for free)?
Lame was created in 2007 in Madison, Wisconsin, under the weight of looming deadlines. It is a 3rd or 4th generation canvas (X-Ray imaging will show multiple images layered beneath the final work). It is a mess of thickly applied paint and a visual testament of hours of mounting frustration, culminating in the thickly applied letters which read, simply, “lame.” Does it describe the artwork? The artist? The purchaser? The critics? Does it describe something else entirely or is it just a series of marks that happen to resemble letters in the alphabet favored by 21st century Americans?
I want you to have this painting, but more importantly, you want to own this. I want to give it to you for free, with but a few stipulations. 1. The painting must be displayed in a place where you will occasionally see it (that is, not on the back wall of your tool shed). 2. The painting must be treated as if it were a respected piece of art created by a respectable artist. 3. If anyone asks, you must insinuate that you paid a moderate sum of money for the painting (you can invent the price, or evade the question on the premise that you don’t discuss financial investments). 4. If you ever sell the painting, you must give one half of the money to charity. 5. You must pick the painting up or pay to have it shipped. The first person to respond to this wins the contest. If no one responds, the social experiment will continue in another form.
Is it art? If not, can we make it so?
An open note to Craig Thompson.
Thursday, May 22nd, 2008
To Craig Thompson, author and illustrator of Blankets, I have a few things to say. First of all, well done, really. The first time I read this book I read all 582 pages in a single sitting while my friend and host slept into the afternoon. This was in San Francisco, the day after Thanksgiving, 2005. Your book had already been in print for a couple years by then, and I was embarrassed at the time that I had waited so long to read it. You draw the way I wish I could. Just last night I spent a half hour copying your ears into my sketchbook (I always have trouble with ears). Maybe you’re my favorite illustrator, even, I’m not sure yet. I love the way you draw yourself as a child. I love the way you draw Wisconsin.
This time I checked your book out of the library. This time, unlike that day after Thanksgiving, I read your book one chapter at a time, with days in between. There was sadness, just like the first time I read, but the sadness that time had come in a wave at the very end, whereas this time the sadness lapped and licked at my ankles throughout the entire reading experience (even the days in between). I think you meant for there to be sadness, didn’t you?
Here is the one objection that I feel I need to make, Craig. On page 533 your character says, “It [Christianity] denies the beauty of being human, and it ignores all these gaps that need to be filled in by the individual.” I’ll have to say that I whole-heartedly disagree with you on those points, and maybe it will serve as inspiration for future posts here. But for now, how is this? I went to art school and worked from nude models and never once felt guilt over it, and have never ever felt that the humanness of body or spirit was belittled or made profane by an active faith. Even my mother, who rolled her eyes whenever my artist siblings and I spoke of our figure classes, never made me feel sinful for studying the human figure in this way. Maybe the members of your church told you that art is a sin and a distraction, and shame on your Sunday School teacher who said you would never draw in heaven but only spend all of your time in song, but they were wrong. I feel like you experienced one corner of the Christian world when there are certainly other corners which celebrate creativity and artfulness and the individuality that feeds and is fed by those things. I’m not clicking my tongue here and saying “It’s a pity you lost your faith.” I’m just thinking, how sad that in your experience the church severed itself from your creativity, because in doing so they cut off an incredibly talented limb. Keep drawing pictures, please.
Marissa, have you missed me?
Sunday, May 4th, 2008
I’m getting to know some of my audience here at Easel Ain’t Easy. There are still surprises, from time to time, someone I know will reference something I blogged about and I will remember that this is out there, in the public realm, and just about anyone could read it. Which is good, don’t get me wrong, and it’s fun to have those surprises. But there are a few people whom I can always count on to read, and read with regularity, and recently one of these loyal readers called me out on the fact that I haven’t been writing lately. Well, I could counter with excuses about how busy things have been with work and art and social events, but no one wants to hear excuses, let alone read about them, so instead I’ll just jump back in, as if nothing has changed.
To this friend who reminded me that I was neglecting my duties as a blogger, I promised that my next post would be about her, so as to soothe the soul so troubled by my absence (thought I would get liberal with my syntax there, you know, stretch the atrophied writing muscle a bit). So here, M____, here it is!
M____ and I hung out one day, back when I was living in San Diego, back when she was visiting our mutual friend Sarah, back before she and I were technically friends yet. Sarah had to work one day and so M____ and I made plans to get touristy a bit while we waited for her shift to end. I happen to have a brief document of this moment in history, thanks to my now-offline blog entitled “Pacific For Now.” You will notice that I changed M____’s name at the time of writing, which was a precaution I was taking at the time due to an unrelated incident (details unimportant here.) Anyway, I later told M____ that I had blogged about her and changed her name, and she naturally wanted to know the name I changed her to. I couldn’t remember, at the time, and so here for the first time, M____ and all the rest of the world, is the post that started it all:
Thursday, February 9, 2006
Today [Marissa] and I went to the San Diego Museum of Art in Balboa Park, and later to the Jenny Holzer lecture at the MCASD in La Jolla. Jenny provided some great insight into her work, and on top of that she was very humble, which is not something I tend to expect of any world-renowned artist. It was a very artful day, and the end result is that I’m jumping out of my skin to be an artist. I would love to. One of the docents at the Museum of Art talked with Marissa and I for a while and I mentioned to him that one day they might have one of my paintings at their museum, and he just kind of laughed and said that they might have a whole exhibit of my work.
I actually spent a fair part of the day painting yesterday, but there is still much work to be done. It’s been really aimless so far, which isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s definitely at an awkward stage. I’m taking pictures in progress, so I’ll post those here when I’m all done. And then someone can make me an offer, and be the proud owner of the first thing I’ve painted in California! What a deal! Everybody wins!
And here is what I love about blogging. A) I had completely forgotten that M____ and I went to see Jenny Holzer after the art museum. That’s something I shouldn’t forget! And now, thanks to an old blog, I won’t have to. It also triggers other memories that I hadn’t blogged about, such as when we went to dinner at the little strip mall cafe in La Jolla and flirted with the waiter and then left him Sarah’s phone number. Remembering things is fun! And B) that painting of which I so cockily predicted its sale (though I’m sure I was more ironically poking fun at myself) actually did sell last year. And someone is now the (hopefully) proud owner of not the first thing I painted in California, but so far the only thing I painted in California. If you don’t blog already, you might want to consider it. Who doesn’t get endless amusement from checking the past against the present?
Anyway, today was Ascension Sunday, and the message in church was pretty great, and later today I had a conversation with a dear friend that was similarly great, I mean, really encouraging. If I had written M____’s post yesterday I would write about these other things today, but as it is I think I’ll save them for Monday material. Knowing this, you can plan your day accordingly.
(Edit: After publishing, it occurred to me that maybe M____ wouldn’t care to have her name included here, so I went back and took it out. M____, if you’d prefer to have your 10 minutes of blog-fame, let me know!)
Perhaps the first time the title comes close to fitting!
Saturday, April 25th, 2009Like month old fruit juice.
Wednesday, December 10th, 2008Yesterday I was spoiled. Not simply because of the snow day (our office was closed for the day!) but because of how I spent my day. Determined to be productive, I set up camp in my long neglected studio, put my favorite records on, and got to work on an art project (a watercolor/ink illustration, if you’re keeping score). Normally I don’t have the time or energy to work on projects like this, what with the day job and all (don’t get me wrong, I love my day job). Weekends, too, are often too busy for much creativity, so it was extremely nice to have a free day with nothing pressing to do and nowhere to go.
The reason I say I was spoiled is because I had a taste of what it might feel like to be a real working artist. I mean, there are people who are able to do this for a living – their work day is going into the studio, putting on their favorite records, and just creating. How fun would that be? I’d venture to put them in the same category as professional athletes, rock stars, and actors… they get paid to play! Well, okay, most artists aren’t earning a fraction of what professional athletes, rock stars, and actors earn, but you know what I mean. You get it. There are some artists who aren’t starving, and who aren’t working a “day job” and saving all of their projects for the rare occasion of a snow day. The challenge, I guess, is becoming one of those artists.
Unrelated, I had an anti-genius idea today to create a search engine called “Irrelevant” in which all of the search results are completely unrelated to whatever your search words were. Wouldn’t that be novel? And annoying? And completely useless? Remarkably, the domain name www dot irrelevant dot com seems to be available. If I was a different kind of person I would snatch that up. You can be the snatchers, friends. You can make my idea come to life.
Y2K? Really?*
Wednesday, October 15th, 2008Well, clearly I’m going for a new look here, and clearly I’m not quite there (at least that part is clear to me). Expect numerous changes in the next few days as I fumble around with graphic design in the same way that I paint… millions of do-overs (in painting I guess we call them layers). I’m awful at graphic design. All I can do is scribble, really. But if I’m going to be a scribbler, I might as well get my scribbling down to a master-form!
Moving on, people are beginning to get panic in their voices when they talk about the coming winter. They refer to the Farmer’s Almanac with the same mix of fear and disgust that they use discussing Bin Laden or Y2K. Last year we broke the record snow fall with over 100 inches of snow. This year we are supposed to get over 120 inches. I read a nice column in the paper today in support of human hibernation. I think I like that. Let’s be bears.
*I couldn’t think of a better example.
Canadian Cold Feet.
Tuesday, September 30th, 2008
When I say that I’m German and French, I guess what I really mean is that I’m German and French Canadian. So I’ll be planning a visit to Montreal to explore my roots.
When I say that I’m working on a graphic novel, what I really mean is that I’m standing at the base of this mountain and I’m excited but a little bit scared to death of the climb. Okay so I’m holding this grappling hook and don’t quite know how to use it, although I know its uses are endless and my potential, too, is pretty great if I could just figure it out. It’s that nervous feeling you get when you’re about to give the speech of your lifetime, or when you suspect that you’re beginning to fall in love. Things could go either way, success or disappointment. Learning is inevitable. It’s a great place to be, but at the same time there is something so comforting about stable, solid, sea-level ground. Sometimes it’s hard to take those upward steps.
Metaphorical enough for ya?
When art feels right.
Thursday, September 11th, 2008So…I’m working on a graphic novel. I don’t know why I haven’t written about it here yet. Well, yes I do. I haven’t written about it because as long as no one knows about it I can’t be expected to finish it, and that takes a lot of pressure off. Except that I need a little pressure. I wouldn’t have completed my NaNoWriMo manuscript last year if I weren’t constantly mouthing off about it here. And besides that, I’ve already started talking to people about it in the non-digital world. It’s partly an accountability thing, but it’s also just really exciting for me and I want to talk about it! Let me put it down in black-and-white: before I die I would like to finish this book. Or a different one completely, but I’ve already got a decent start on this one. It feels like things are clicking, you know? And I’m not talking about the story which needs quite a bit of work, but I’m talking about the entire creative process. I feel like I’ve fumbled around looking for the right way to use my interests and talents and maybe I’ve finally gotten on the right track. I really do love this comic book stuff, and I like drawing and I like writing and I want whatever I do to be accessible to anyone who wants it, not just some wealthy art collector. This feels right. And I worry that by writing statements like that I might be inflating my expectations and setting myself up for disappointment, but I guess that’s a risk I’ll take. I feel like there may be a few more risks involved with this whole process anyway.
You want to own this.
Saturday, September 6th, 2008It’s a social art experiment. It’s not pretty, it’s not exactly clever. Is it art? Why not? Do you want to hang it in your home? Would you be embarassed to show it to friends, and tell them you paid $1000 for it (even if you really got it for free)?
Lame was created in 2007 in Madison, Wisconsin, under the weight of looming deadlines. It is a 3rd or 4th generation canvas (X-Ray imaging will show multiple images layered beneath the final work). It is a mess of thickly applied paint and a visual testament of hours of mounting frustration, culminating in the thickly applied letters which read, simply, “lame.” Does it describe the artwork? The artist? The purchaser? The critics? Does it describe something else entirely or is it just a series of marks that happen to resemble letters in the alphabet favored by 21st century Americans?
I want you to have this painting, but more importantly, you want to own this. I want to give it to you for free, with but a few stipulations. 1. The painting must be displayed in a place where you will occasionally see it (that is, not on the back wall of your tool shed). 2. The painting must be treated as if it were a respected piece of art created by a respectable artist. 3. If anyone asks, you must insinuate that you paid a moderate sum of money for the painting (you can invent the price, or evade the question on the premise that you don’t discuss financial investments). 4. If you ever sell the painting, you must give one half of the money to charity. 5. You must pick the painting up or pay to have it shipped. The first person to respond to this wins the contest. If no one responds, the social experiment will continue in another form.
Is it art? If not, can we make it so?
An open note to Craig Thompson.
Thursday, May 22nd, 2008To Craig Thompson, author and illustrator of Blankets, I have a few things to say. First of all, well done, really. The first time I read this book I read all 582 pages in a single sitting while my friend and host slept into the afternoon. This was in San Francisco, the day after Thanksgiving, 2005. Your book had already been in print for a couple years by then, and I was embarrassed at the time that I had waited so long to read it. You draw the way I wish I could. Just last night I spent a half hour copying your ears into my sketchbook (I always have trouble with ears). Maybe you’re my favorite illustrator, even, I’m not sure yet. I love the way you draw yourself as a child. I love the way you draw Wisconsin.
This time I checked your book out of the library. This time, unlike that day after Thanksgiving, I read your book one chapter at a time, with days in between. There was sadness, just like the first time I read, but the sadness that time had come in a wave at the very end, whereas this time the sadness lapped and licked at my ankles throughout the entire reading experience (even the days in between). I think you meant for there to be sadness, didn’t you?
Here is the one objection that I feel I need to make, Craig. On page 533 your character says, “It [Christianity] denies the beauty of being human, and it ignores all these gaps that need to be filled in by the individual.” I’ll have to say that I whole-heartedly disagree with you on those points, and maybe it will serve as inspiration for future posts here. But for now, how is this? I went to art school and worked from nude models and never once felt guilt over it, and have never ever felt that the humanness of body or spirit was belittled or made profane by an active faith. Even my mother, who rolled her eyes whenever my artist siblings and I spoke of our figure classes, never made me feel sinful for studying the human figure in this way. Maybe the members of your church told you that art is a sin and a distraction, and shame on your Sunday School teacher who said you would never draw in heaven but only spend all of your time in song, but they were wrong. I feel like you experienced one corner of the Christian world when there are certainly other corners which celebrate creativity and artfulness and the individuality that feeds and is fed by those things. I’m not clicking my tongue here and saying “It’s a pity you lost your faith.” I’m just thinking, how sad that in your experience the church severed itself from your creativity, because in doing so they cut off an incredibly talented limb. Keep drawing pictures, please.
Marissa, have you missed me?
Sunday, May 4th, 2008I’m getting to know some of my audience here at Easel Ain’t Easy. There are still surprises, from time to time, someone I know will reference something I blogged about and I will remember that this is out there, in the public realm, and just about anyone could read it. Which is good, don’t get me wrong, and it’s fun to have those surprises. But there are a few people whom I can always count on to read, and read with regularity, and recently one of these loyal readers called me out on the fact that I haven’t been writing lately. Well, I could counter with excuses about how busy things have been with work and art and social events, but no one wants to hear excuses, let alone read about them, so instead I’ll just jump back in, as if nothing has changed.
To this friend who reminded me that I was neglecting my duties as a blogger, I promised that my next post would be about her, so as to soothe the soul so troubled by my absence (thought I would get liberal with my syntax there, you know, stretch the atrophied writing muscle a bit). So here, M____, here it is!
M____ and I hung out one day, back when I was living in San Diego, back when she was visiting our mutual friend Sarah, back before she and I were technically friends yet. Sarah had to work one day and so M____ and I made plans to get touristy a bit while we waited for her shift to end. I happen to have a brief document of this moment in history, thanks to my now-offline blog entitled “Pacific For Now.” You will notice that I changed M____’s name at the time of writing, which was a precaution I was taking at the time due to an unrelated incident (details unimportant here.) Anyway, I later told M____ that I had blogged about her and changed her name, and she naturally wanted to know the name I changed her to. I couldn’t remember, at the time, and so here for the first time, M____ and all the rest of the world, is the post that started it all:
Thursday, February 9, 2006
Today [Marissa] and I went to the San Diego Museum of Art in Balboa Park, and later to the Jenny Holzer lecture at the MCASD in La Jolla. Jenny provided some great insight into her work, and on top of that she was very humble, which is not something I tend to expect of any world-renowned artist. It was a very artful day, and the end result is that I’m jumping out of my skin to be an artist. I would love to. One of the docents at the Museum of Art talked with Marissa and I for a while and I mentioned to him that one day they might have one of my paintings at their museum, and he just kind of laughed and said that they might have a whole exhibit of my work.
I actually spent a fair part of the day painting yesterday, but there is still much work to be done. It’s been really aimless so far, which isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s definitely at an awkward stage. I’m taking pictures in progress, so I’ll post those here when I’m all done. And then someone can make me an offer, and be the proud owner of the first thing I’ve painted in California! What a deal! Everybody wins!
And here is what I love about blogging. A) I had completely forgotten that M____ and I went to see Jenny Holzer after the art museum. That’s something I shouldn’t forget! And now, thanks to an old blog, I won’t have to. It also triggers other memories that I hadn’t blogged about, such as when we went to dinner at the little strip mall cafe in La Jolla and flirted with the waiter and then left him Sarah’s phone number. Remembering things is fun! And B) that painting of which I so cockily predicted its sale (though I’m sure I was more ironically poking fun at myself) actually did sell last year. And someone is now the (hopefully) proud owner of not the first thing I painted in California, but so far the only thing I painted in California. If you don’t blog already, you might want to consider it. Who doesn’t get endless amusement from checking the past against the present?
Anyway, today was Ascension Sunday, and the message in church was pretty great, and later today I had a conversation with a dear friend that was similarly great, I mean, really encouraging. If I had written M____’s post yesterday I would write about these other things today, but as it is I think I’ll save them for Monday material. Knowing this, you can plan your day accordingly.
(Edit: After publishing, it occurred to me that maybe M____ wouldn’t care to have her name included here, so I went back and took it out. M____, if you’d prefer to have your 10 minutes of blog-fame, let me know!)





