Jenie Gao Studio

Brunch, Workshop, and Printing, Printing, Printing: Recap

2012-03-06T21:05:00.000-06:00

Didn't get any other photos prior to food being devoured,
but I think this plate of dumplings is enough on its
own to say that the day started off on the right foot.

First print ever.

I've been getting some of my own printing done, too...

You'll be able to see my new prints on display at BYO Studio Lounge for the 3rd Annual INK! Show, opening this Friday, March 9th, at 6:00. Hope to see you there!

You can also see my work on display at Black-Eyed Press; their new show also opens this Friday at 6:00.

Brunch Potluck and Woodcut Workshop

2012-02-27T20:02:00.000-06:00

Food, camaraderie, and creativity. Sounds like a perfect day.

Where: Jenie Gao Studio, 2375 South Howell Avenue

When: Saturday, March 3rd, 11:00 am - 5:00 pm

Join me on Saturday, March 3rd, at 11:00 for a brunch potluck. The studio will be providing homemade dumplings (meat and vegetarian options) for the main course, fresh fruit, and a chocolaty sweet treat for dessert. If you would like to bring something, please post what you plan on bringing below so that we may drool in anticipation!

At 1:00, I will also be teaching a little woodcut workshop. All are welcome to stay and watch, but if you would like to participate, please email me to RSVP by Friday, March 2nd so I can be sure to have enough supplies prepared. All materials will be provided, plus all who take the class will get a free print from my newest series! Maximum class size is 8.

Come for the brunch, the lesson, or best, join us for both!

Cost of class: $30 at the door or $40 for both you and a friend

What It Covers:

1 8 x 12 inch woodblock
paper
block printing ink
drawing materials
use of tools
an awesome learning experience
free print (sneak peek of the blocks below)!

Good Night

2012-02-21T02:32:00.001-06:00

An excerpt from 100 Chin Lifters:

"The supper table cleared, the mending finished, a good evening's work in the garden; now there is just time for another chapter,or a smoke, or that letter only half read this morning . . . which shall it be?

That's the joy of those last few minutes before bed--the doing of something from choice and not necessity. It is not so easy to sacrifice those precious minutes for another job 'which must be done.'"

Lucky Rabbit

2012-02-10T21:27:00.001-06:00

Today would have been my dad's 61st birthday.

January 23, 2012, marked the end of the Year of the Rabbit, specifically, the Metal Rabbit. In Chinese astrology, the zodiac animals go in a cycle of 12 years and the elements in a cycle of 5, so it is in your 60th year that you are once again in both your sign and your element. This would have been my dad's year if he were still alive and I can't help but wonder if perhaps the significance this year would have had for him were passed on to me. My dad, mom, and I are all rabbits; because of this, my mom always told me that I was a true rabbit and that I should be extra careful because everything eats rabbit.

So was I better or worse off, then, if as the true rabbit daughter of a Metal Rabbit I had to carry out not only my own fortune but that of the one who didn't live to see his year? It was a tumultuous year, to say the least, but in reflection I should like to say we rabbits proved to be quite blessed.

A year ago I listened to "These Words, Forever," an episode on the podcast, the Memory Palace. It tells the story of Guglielmo Marconi, "Father of Radio," at the end of his life, as he imagined building a device that could listen to lost sounds throughout time. To quote the podcast: "Marconi became convinced that sound never dies...sound lived on forever, its waves flowing permanently, but growing weaker and weaker with each moment; we just hadn't built a radio powerful enough to tune into the signal..." The first thing I did when I got home from work this evening was re-listen to this piece, and I recommend that you do the same.

When I listened to this episode last year as I entered what would have been my father's year, I imagined how our voices might also be immortal, and how we might be the devices -- or vessels -- that enabled them to live on. My dad was a captivating speaker, but his chances to share his words with people were always caught between ill comprehension of the history he had to bear and his own conflicts with truly sharing the history he came from. When I listen to others speak before an audience, I often find myself wondering what it might have been like to hear my dad in a similar setting; when I speak before an audience, I imagine in some way, maybe I'm giving him that chance. Though as someone special once said to me, part of giving him that chance was that my words be my own, and stand on their own. That is enough.

It's interesting how little life events align themselves. A coworker of mine's mother passed away this Sunday; like my dad, she lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. Today was her funeral.

Later in the evening, I attended the lecture of my former professor, Lisa Bulawsky; Lisa makes poignant work dealing with themes such as remembrance and love. I do her an injustice to try and summarize, but one of the projects she spoke about tonight was The MSIG Pilot Project, a collaborative work in which Lisa and her partner, Dan Kelley, extracted and transmitted the "life data" of 300 participants into deep space in the hopes that maybe someone out there might receive the signal. Radio waves never die, and in this way the participants of this project were immortalized. You can see how far the signal has traveled since then here.

This post is for my dad, for my friends and their loved ones, and for the people whose time this is and will be. As for me, I hope neither for my work nor my history to be enough, and not even to have done enough to make my family or my father's memory proud, but simply to be enough. All else, then, should follow.

Bonk! Performance Series

2012-02-02T20:51:00.000-06:00

Last November, I was invited to participate in Bonk! Performance Series in Racine, Wisconsin, when they were hosted by The Black-Eyed Press. Thank you, Nick Demske, for inviting me to participate in this great event with some very talented performers, whom you can learn about on Bonk's blog. The videos from the event are now online and you can view all of them either on Bonk's website or Youtube page.

Sneak Peeks of New Work and My Next Woodcut Workshop

2012-01-28T14:28:00.001-06:00

Working on some new woodcuts in the studio. Here are some snapshots of the progress.

You can also now sign up for my upcoming woodcut workshop on Saturday, February 25, from 1 to 4 pm, here in my new studio! I'm hosting the class through this great, new organization, called Dabble, which started in Chicago and has just launched this month in Milwaukee. Dabble hosts a variety of classes, anything from swing dancing to bike maintenance to coffee tasting to printmaking (!), bringing together the people who want to teach the courses and the curious minds of eager Dabblers. I'm definitely thrilled to see an organization like this starting in Milwaukee, and of course excited to be teaching a class in my new space!

Don't wait. Sign up today. :)

TurningArt

2011-12-27T06:49:00.002-06:00

Prints and originals of my artwork are now available at TurningArt.

TurningArt features a curated collection of artists and allows subscribed customers to rotate prints in their homes and offices and ultimately earn credit to purchase original artworks. It's a pretty neat company and I'd recommend checking them out and learning more about what they do.

On Facebook

Images from Open Studio and Sunday Brunch

2011-12-24T09:00:00.000-06:00

I hosted my first Open Studio on Sunday, December 11th. Here are some images from the event.

The first visitors!

Serving Sunday Brunch. :)

Paul making awesome breakfast burritos. :)

Thanks for the delicious cookies, Michael Wessel.

Photo courtesy of Waldek Dynerman.

Pumpkin Gingerbread

2011-12-23T09:03:00.000-06:00

Looking for something to contribute to the holiday spread this year? How about some pumpkin gingerbread? This is a dense, delicious bread guaranteed to stay moist and not stick to your pan.

Ingredients (enough for two loaves):

3cups flour
1tsp salt
2tsp baking soda
4tsp ginger
1 Tbsp cinnamon
½tsp cloves
½tsp nutmeg
½ tsp cardamom
dash of allspice
3 medium eggs, beaten
½cup dark brown sugar
½cup dark molasses
1/3cup almond milk
1/3cup melted butter
2cups fresh pumpkin*

Directions:

Preheatoven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
Mix flour, salt, baking soda, and spices.
Melt the butter in a pan; add the molasses and almond milk and heat.
Ina separate bowl, beat the eggs. Mix in brown sugar, butter mixture, and pumpkin. Stir until just combined.
If desired, add candied ginger, fresh ginger, raisins, or chocolate chips.
Pourinto two greased 9"x5" bread pans. Bake 30-40 minutes or until knife comes out clean.

This bread ages well, so don't feel pressured to eat it all in one sitting! ;)

*For fresh pumpkin, I cut a pie pumpkin in half, scoop out the seeds and pulp, and cover both halves with foil. I then roast them in the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about an hour, then puree the flesh in a blender. Depending on the size of my pumpkin, I usually have enough puree left over for pumpkin soup. :)

Giving Thanks

2011-12-22T21:38:00.003-06:00

November and December have been full and fulfilling months. As a number of you may know, I've had my woodcuts on display at the wonderful Black-Eyed Press in Racine, Wisconsin. In late November, I had the opportunity to give a talk about my work during the BONK Performance Series alongside some fantastic performers.

At The Black-Eyed Press during the performance series.

I've also gotten to engage my handy side a little bit. Check out my new, wooden cart. Storage in Jenie Gao Studio is officially mobile.

I drew a Spoonbill for my friends Jun and Nick's animal drawing project on their blogs. Check out the sweet, colored version that Jun did of my waterfowl.

Spoonbill!

Earlier this month, I hosted an Open Studio and Sunday Brunch. This was my first event in the new space and I'm definitely excited for the things to come (more images soon)!

Finally, my artwork is featured in Aesthetica Magazine: Creative Works Annual, a beautiful publication produced in the UK. I just received my copy in the mail this evening and am honored to have my work shown alongside the amazing talent within this anthology.

Aesthetica Magazine: Creative Works Annual 2012

And actually, the note I want to end on for now is this: I have baked and cooked enough to feed several small armies this winter. And that makes me extremely happy.

I lamented the severe dearth of summer pies this year, but
am happy to report that I have made more than a sufficient
number of fall pies. Making pie crust may be one of my
favorite processes.

Happy Winter Solstice and stay tuned for more updates to come! ;)

Questions and Answers 16: Jenie Gao Studio

2011-11-20T18:54:00.001-06:00

For those of you who don't know yet, I have recently moved into my own studio. I am very excited about this new endeavor and the things I will be able to do in this space, from framing artwork without having to move my furniture out of the way to teaching woodcut workshops to simply being immersed in the light and the good energy that fills my work space. Here are some images of the new Jenie Gao Studio and my move-in progress.

Yikes.

The sunlight coming in over my studio table.

Light! :)

Thank you, Joe Wagner, for helping me move the large,
glass-top table from Habitat ReStore.

It's beginning to come together.

Stay tuned for more updates to come.

The Black-Eyed Press

2011-11-13T11:24:00.001-06:00

My woodcuts are currently on view in Racine, Wisconsin, at The Black-Eyed Press, a new print shop that just opened in the spring. The show will stay up through the end of December. You can catch me there tonight from 6 to 9 pm and on the First Friday of December. Stay tuned for possible workshops and upcoming events.

And if not for me, check out the space they have because it's beautiful. The Black-Eyed Press has grown very quickly in a short amount of time; the shop is already set up for etching and very soon the shop will have a beautiful, large etching press, which may be my cue to hang out there more often. :)

Images from BYO Studio

2011-11-13T11:14:00.001-06:00

Images from my show at BYO Studio Lounge with Jason Anthony LeRoy. The show ran October through November. Here are some images in case you missed it (i.e. you missed your flight to Milwaukee to see me).

By Night

"For Your Charming Lack of Content," ink and watercolor

Coincidental but appropriate artwork placement.

Seriously.

By Day

"Trigger Finger," ink on paper

Jason Anthony LeRoy

Salsa Dancers!

Drink 'n Draw, Friday, October 28th

On KK Avenue

The Bar

The Final Night

The Printer

2011-11-10T18:22:00.001-06:00

A little while back, one night when my head and life felt like they were in chaos and I needed desperately to get out of my apartment, I picked up a bunch of used books for $5 that had beautiful covers that I wanted to use for my own bookbinding projects. In the midst of these books was one entitled One Hundred Chin-Lifters and as I opened it up and began to read I realized, "I can't cut this up!"

It's a book full of little heart-lifting anecdotes, most of which are anonymous, and the best part? It was printed in honor of a printing press' 100th anniversary! Each day I read from it, I felt a little better about my little mess of a life, and if that doesn't sell you on it, perhaps the little letterpress pattern it's imprinted with will.

There are many wonderful passages I would like to share from it, but for all the printmakers, I think this is a good one.

The Printer

The fellows who write and the fellows who read

Have often forgotten one fellow they need,

Though reading and writing were not very much

Till this fellow came with his magical touch.

Then he who would write had a reason to try

And he who would read had a way he could buy.

Then reading grew easy, and knowledge began;

Began with the printer—yes, he was the man.

Men boast of their freedom, and often forget

The source of their freedom, the source of it yet.

Where more is the knowledge the monarch behaves,

Where less is the knowledge the people are slaves.

A word that is written one hand can erase,

A word that is printed can awaken a race.

And yet we’ve forgotten the fellow, I guess,

Who’s setting the type or is running the press.

Salutes for the soldier, a wreath for the sage.

Applause for the speaker who stands on the stage.

A penny for poets who give us their songs,

But never alone have they righted our wrongs.

For down in a basement or back in a room

Are liberty’s future and tyranny’s doom.

When freedom is calling the summons is heard

Because of the printer, who gives us the word.

By Douglas Malloch

From ONE HUNDRED CHINLIFTERS ON OUR 100^th YEAR 1853-1953

Richardson, Bond, & Wright Limited

You, too, can get this book from Amazon for a dollar and love it as much as I do.

Sneak Peeks

2011-11-09T13:00:00.000-06:00

I have been without internet for the past month now, but I have not been inactive. Here are a few images to give you a peek into some of the goings-on...

...my life is full of happy, timely coincidences (or perhaps harbingers?).


A homing pigeon I rescued the day my show at BYO Studio opened.

A happy coincidence. Do you see it?

More images from BYO Studio to come!

I've been told I make the best apple pie that
some folks have ever tasted.

And here's the real teaser for what's new:
my life is full of beautiful light.

Hoping to have internet finally this Saturday, so stay tuned! :)

Artist Jason Anthony LeRoy: A Day in the Life

2011-10-06T22:09:00.000-05:00

The process:

Priming the wood panels, built by Jason's father-in-law,
a master wood craftsman.

The space:

Drawing: in the creative space.

The creative space, the making of Molly.

The coffee:

Metropolis.

The reading:

Winter's Tale, by Mark Helprin

The listening:

Astronautalis: This is Our Science

The artwork:

Molly, graphite and white charcoal on birch, 36 x 48 inches.

The show. Join us this Friday, October 7, from 6-9 pm, at BYO Studio. All new artwork on view from October 6th through November 4th.

For more on Jason, visit his website today.

Share with your friends.

Tock: An Exhibit with Jason Anthony LeRoy

2011-10-02T10:19:00.000-05:00

Friday, October 7th, from 6-9 pm, will be the opening night of my show at BYO Studio with good friend and mad talent, Jason LeRoy.

Here's a preview of Jason's work that you can expect to see.

August Revolution, graphite on wood panel
by Jason LeRoy

Sinking Ships, graphite on wood panel
by Jason LeRoy

To view a few of my finished drawings online, visit my website. To view all of them in person, well, you'll just have to come to the show. ;)

If you can't make it to the opening, we'll be having a second reception on Friday, October 21st, from 6-9 pm for Milwaukee's Fall Gallery Night. The show will remain on display through November 4th.

Chillin' while I work.

So what are you waiting for? RSVP for the Facebook event, share with friends, and come join us in BYO's amazing space this Friday. Great art, great drinks (BYO's also a cocktail lounge, dontcha know?), terrific people.

New Drawings For Your Sight Buds

2011-09-25T20:47:00.000-05:00

Preview of new artwork

Drawing is like falling in love over and over again. I get anxious when I've gone too long without it and scared when I'm getting back into the swing of it. Then there are the turf wars as my home disappears under a maelstrom of papers, pens, and eraser dust, followed by the ego wars, where I would like to believe I wear the pants in this relationship, but I'm really not quite sure. Then, when I'm in the moment, there is this rare sense of contentment with life; the one thing that can break this moment is a fluffy cat jumping on my lap, which only seems to add to the closeness of the feeling.

There are new drawings posted on my website; more to come in this series.

Questions and Answers 15: All Roads Lead to Home

2011-09-12T20:20:00.004-05:00

Kristen Klempert, former roommate and dearly close friend, visited me here in Milwaukee about a week ago. Kristen is a writer and in this past year has been teaching at StudioSTL, volunteering, and working as a wine director at a restaurant in St. Louis. She is leaving this month to teach English in Spain for a year.

On top of being long term, good friends, Kristen and I have some pretty obvious crossovers in our interests and ideals. We care immensely about teaching (we both have worked extensively in nonprofit), are passionate about our creative pursuits, and have a tendency to work ourselves thanklessly to the bone.

This past year has been a whirlwind of a ride and in the midst of the joking and commiserating over the highs and lows of our unconventional career paths and our well-meaning but overly concerned families and friends, I felt compelled to document some of the things we were talking about. The short version is this: for all of our similarities, in our passions, our pursuits, our unpredictable lives, there is one big difference. Kristen is leaving the country, whereas I am choosing not only to stay but to begin building my career here in Milwaukee.

Of course, this interview is a shy representation of the things Kristen and I discussed during her week long visit, but it captures a sense of where I feel many people are today.

Kristen is just one of many friends of mine going abroad and one of many more making big moves. I'm excited for the adventures of friends Anna Geselbracht, Andrew Brown, and Stephanie Barenz, who are already abroad; for Jason and Kelly LeRoy, who are newly married and building their lives in Indiana; and for Aries Tjhin and Louiegee Faustino, who will be moving and starting new art adventures in San Diego this October.

Though with so many people moving and my own life uprooted, I began to wonder if this were a sign of the times and to look at myself with a sense of, "One of these things is not like the others..." What's keeping me where I am? Inexperience? Anger? Fear? Clinginess? All of these seem to be inadequate answers, because if nothing else I feel that I have at least proven myself capable of riding and even instigating the volatile maelstrom of life. I can even rein it in a little and make it trot for me. I'm working on coordinating it over a few jumps and maybe through a few hoops.

But seriously. What factors into the differences in our decisions when in many ways our dreams and perspectives are the same? This could be a case of all roads lead to Rome, that wherever we go and however we get there, there we are.

I had a small epiphany towards the end of this interview; you'll hear the two of us talking about what gives us a sense of returning home. Kristen discusses her attachment to her hometown of Stuart, Florida, as a safe zone and a place where she can recharge. It has occurred to me since then that though much of what I discuss in my work focuses on the keeping of memories, stories, and familiarity, I have never attached my sense of home to the sentiments of my feelings. My sense of home has never depended on place but on process; I fall in love with the act of building a home (or a career or a connection), with the nesting but not the nest.

Turns out I'm nothing like a homing pigeon after all, which adds to the intrigue in a way.

There is more to come on this, which includes an interview with Kristen before she left. But for now, let's enjoy a good conversation. Well wishes to an amazing friend as she embarks on her travels.

Oh, and for anyone who reads this, out of curiosity, what gives you a sense of home? Where are you right now, and where do you want to be?

A quiet place where I like to think.

On Showing Where You Stand

2011-09-10T14:13:00.000-05:00

Build things up just to be torn down. I get it, that's how life goes. But how often can you eradicate what a person has worked for before the willingness to keep trying is broken?

This was my first week back at the school since the summer program ended and this is what I found.

All of my students' artwork was gone. The shelves were cleared out, the room piled with furniture and clutter from other classrooms. I had nothing left to submit to the Boys and Girls Clubs' annual art show. I was told that my classroom was going to be cut in half. I was told to just be prepared to teach on Monday. It looked like I was never there and I felt like I had been erased.

Just be prepared. So I carved out a little spot to sit and do my prep work for next week.

Sitting there, I realized I can't even protect the kids from the tables they're supposed to sit at every day.

I felt hopeless; the weight of my reality crushed down upon me. I am an underpaid, overworked, starving artist, and this little classroom is only a fraction of my unpredictable, volatile world. Worse, at this moment I am a petite Asian woman with zero upper body strength staring at piles of heavy furniture and I am by myself. I have neither the means to fight nor the wings for flight, but I do have a third option: giving up.

Or not.

It's true. I have no control over the next day, never mind the next week, month, or year. I could show up to teach on Monday and find this again.

Anything can happen. My world could blow to pieces tomorrow and whether I like it or not I have to be ready to readjust. But there is one constant that I will always have to work with. I have myself and wherever I go, whatever I do, it is important to always show where I stand.

BIG Relief: Madison and Upcoming Shows

2011-09-06T14:01:00.001-05:00

News as we head into the fall...

Last month, I had the privilege of printing in the Madison print shop and editioning my block from Steamroller at RedLine this summer. I now have an edition of my print, Attention, and I have to admit, it looks mighty fine on canvas.

Attention, 40 x 60 inches, printed on canvas.
Photo courtesy of John Hitchcock.

You can view the new print at my upcoming show in the Schlueter Art Gallery at Wisconsin Lutheran College, along with my new body of drawings, "Anchor Points." The show runs from September 9th-October 18th and the opening reception is Friday September 16, from 6-8 pm. I hope to see you there!

I will also have work on display in the Walker's Point Center for the Arts Annual Members Show this Friday, September 9, from 5-9 pm. My good friend, Brittany Farina, will also be in the show, along with many other bustling talents. If you can't make the opening, the show runs until October 8th.

Keep an eye out in the coming weeks for information on all new work for my show with Jason Anthony LeRoy, which opens at BYO Studio in October. Jason and I will be doing a couple collaborative pieces as well, so stay tuned.

Here are some images from Madison as we tip our hats to summer and head into fall...

Big relief printing! Photo courtesy of John Hitchcock.

Photo courtesy of John Hitchcock.

Detail shot!

John Hitchock's challenge: finish a woodblock in a day.

Aries Tjhin, pensive.

Aries' prints.

Aries' prints on the drying rack.

Lake Winona after a long day of printing.

On the Grid

2011-09-02T14:11:00.000-05:00

First, thank you to The Art List for making me their September 2011 Artist of the Month! You can read the interview on their website.

Tulips!

For those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I'm pretty into organizing my life on Excel spreadsheets. It's not so involved that I have to make the information impeccably beautiful to live up to Edward Tufte's standards of visual information, but enough that I associate shades of apricot with kindergartners, purple with middle schoolers, cerulean with necessary expenditures, and midnight blue with entertainment and leisure.

But even I reach my limit with how much time I can spend shuffling around the pieces of my life, or so I think. Last night, I found myself looking at these beautiful aerial shots of tulips in Holland...I was trying to take a break from drawing Venn diagrams to represent my friends, which I had been doing to get away from creating spreadsheets on my computer. All things come full circle, it seems. Or full grid?

Either way, these flowerscapes are a reminder and comfort that though my organizing tendencies may often go to an extreme, the method behind the madness is a desire to run things better, more smoothly, and more beautifully.

More tulips!

The carefree days are over it would seem; Excel, you knew I couldn't live without you for that long. It only seemed appropriate that I shoot a new Q&A video to follow this theme.

A few spreadsheets that I currently run my life on. This is the part where I have to say to myself, "You know who you are when you start your work in one coffee shop with a mug of coffee to focus your mind and you end your work in another coffee shop with steamed milk in hopes of naturally sedating yourself. Seriously. That's an unnecessary amount of intent there."

Oh, and for whoever was curious...this is what my Desktop looks like.

Don't act so surprised.

Shared Success

2011-08-29T12:39:00.000-05:00

I love experimenting with food on my own, but I also love trying other people's recipes. It's an opportunity not only to share in the experience of tried and true success but perhaps in a more romantic sense extend the reach of that success. I'll agree that the exclusiveness of secret recipes has its appeal, both for those privileged enough to know them and to taste them. But more people knowing a recipe means more people knowing its wonders; this becomes really remarkable in the age of the internet, where you could be sharing a meal with someone in Milwaukee, Wisconsin at the same time as someone in Lisbon, Portugal. It puts a whole new spin on table etiquette when we find ourselves needing to say, "Excuse my reach."

Here's an overview of a few foods I made this last week...

Exhibit A: Tomato sauce from scratch, posted by food52. I like this recipe because if I have any tendency it's to complicate rather than simplify, overstate with spices instead of let the basic ingredients do all the talking. This is a tomato sauce made with nothing but tomatoes, butter, and onion, simmered to rich, bold perfection. I served this sauce first with homemade egg noodles and feta, then later in the week with Kim Wardenburg's amazing laffa bread (that's right, Kim, your Print Fresh Bread project changed my life by adding this wonderful, new staple to my diet).

Exhibit B: Basil hummus from Simply Recipes. I make hummus fairly often, so naturally when I saw this and had an immediate need to use up some fresh basil, I had to go for it. Instead of pine nuts, I used the soy nuts I already had in my kitchen; love this stuff.

Peeled tomatoes. They're nekkid.

Simmered with a whole onion.

Egg noodles!

An absolute, impatient mess...but delicious.

On laffa bread, recipe from Kim Wardenburg.

With onions, mmm.

Laffa bread with basil hummus, soy nuts, and feta.

What it all comes down to is this: it's more than just the taste. It's process. It's experience. It's sharing. The process of moving your hands the way your grandma moved her hands to cook for you as a child; the process of dicing an onion at the same time as a long-distance lover or a friend you haven't seen in several years or maybe have never even met. The experience of enjoying Indian food even though you live in Missouri; the experience of eating food at a different table in a different room outside your home, surrounded by different pictures, patterns, sounds, and smells. The sharing of a childhood story, told by your best friend making milkshakes for mom or written by a restaurant owner on his website about his memorable family dinners that he can now share with hundreds, even thousands of people.

If you need more proof, here we have process, experience, and sharing with one of my favorite chefs. He served an amazing meal without ever dirtying a single dish. Did I mention that he makes the best pancakes that I have ever imagined and serves the widest array of beverages that I have never seen?

The List Maker/The Neat Freak's Desire for Future Sight

2011-08-25T13:44:00.008-05:00

I read a terrific article today by Jessica Gross entitled "The List Maker." As I read the article, I recalled my recent endeavor to detach from "living my life on the list," reflected on the tension of my desire as an artist both to preserve and share my stories, mused on the joy I feel when drawing check boxes (because bulleted lists don't cut it), and felt suddenly compelled to review some of the old lists saved on my computer.

Lists are things of inner turmoil, born out of the desire to organize and control but dictated by whatever rules list makers feel like at the time. I am fascinated by the variety of lists I have saved, from the very systematic, orderly, and obsessive compulsive expense spreadsheet where I categorize all my expenses by type of purchase/necessity of purchase/payment method (all color-coded, of course) to rambling Word documents with elusive files names (e.g. BURST, Nail Clippings) pocketed away in random sub-folders for the extent of my hard drive's life. The terrible reality of these lists, however, is that I create these systems that seem to control the information without actually being interested in controlling the creation of the information I enter into them. Sure, I care about being smart with my money, but not because of my expense sheet. All my expense sheet does is provide a visual graphic that shows me how much I spend weekly, monthly, yearly in royal blue, cerulean, peach, and lime green.

I am a little embarrassed to share this, but here is sample of items from a list entitled "The idea of preparing for something that may never happen," first created in January and gradually added to over time.

Buying two jars of peanut butter because the second one was half off
Buying guns in case of a zombie apocalypse
Owning winter clothes in the summertime
Owning summer clothes in the wintertime
Owning 500 cotton balls, 50 plastic cups, 500 feet of fishing line, medicine, an extra toothbrush, just in case
Trying to measure the world in specific amounts, in cups, in tablespoons, in teaspoons, in inches, in ounces, in years
Starting a new goal on a Monday instead of a Saturday, starting fresh in a new year, the significance of time and its measurements, the significance of one as a basic building block
Making a copy of all your favorite recipes just in case you lose your recipe box amidst a bad break-up
What it means to make those copies, the equivalent of a premeditated murder?
A life with no accidents that never moves
De-cluttering. Cleansing one's life. There's no such thing as getting rid of items. Give them away, donate them, they still exist. Throw them away, they exist and now are trash.
The real definition of cleansing one's life: we're not getting rid of our problems; we're just making them somebody else's.
Trying to escape cliché song lyrics by listening to them in a different language
Wearing a pretty dress on a lousy date and consequently never wearing that dress on a date again
Wearing a so-so outfit on first dates because first dates in this so-so outfit seem to go well
Feeling weird going to the store only to buy shampoo and cat litter and trying to think of something else I need but deciding to just look weird because I don’t want to spend the extra money; plus it would probably look weirder if I bought shampoo, cat litter, and cheese
Trying to decide if I can afford apples or onions this week but buying both because they're both cheaper this week than they were last week and not wanting to wait until next week to buy apples if they're more expensive, even if I would rather eat them next week
Owning more than a dozen sticky notepads either because they were free or mysteriously entered my life
Feeling awkward when leaving a note for someone I don’t know who’s out of office and realizing that the random notepad I keep in my purse has a picture of a bald eagle and a rifle on it; not knowing this until I actually had a need for a notepad in my purse

Like life, the list goes on.

Jessica Gross refers to this essay by Joan Didion, "On Keeping a Notebook," also worth reading.

"Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss."

I could expound on the keeping of notebooks, but will save that for another day.

Oh, and if you haven't already, what are you waiting for?

Banana Pudding Pie

2011-08-23T10:36:00.001-05:00

Admit it. You read the post title and you're already drooling.

To understand the artist, you must understand what fuels the artist. I figure it's about time to share not only the pictures but the method as well.

Banana Pudding Pie

The Shortbread Crust:

3/4 cup butter, softened,
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 tsp ginger
dash nutmeg
1 1/2 cups flour

Cream together the butter, sugar, and spices. Add the flour and mix well. Press into an ungreased pie pan. Bake at 325 degrees for 30 minutes. (Unnecessary, but you can pre-cut the pie crust to make it easier to remove slices later.)

The Nanners:

Two of 'em. Sliced and arranged in the pie crust.

The Puddin':

1/3 cup flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp salt
2 cups milk
3 egg yolks
2 tbsp butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp almond extract

Mix together flour, sugar, and salt in a pan. Over medium heat, gradually add the milk, stirring constantly. Shortly after it starts to bubble, remove the pan from the heat. Mix a small amount of the hot mixture into the egg yolks, then quickly pour the egg yolks into the pan and stir quickly to incorporate them into the milk mixture. Return the pan to the stove and continue stirring for two more minutes. Turn off the stove and stir in the butter, vanilla, and almond extract. And after typing this I just realized that "extract" only requires that I type with one hand. Cool.

Pour the pudding over the nanners and pie shell and refrigerate until serving time. I sprinkled mine with cocoa powder and cinnamon. :)

I shared this pie last Saturday with (printmakers!) Tyanna Buie and Aries Tjhin (Aries cooks delicious food, by the way), who made it even better by spicing it with sweet, savory, spicy, never mellow, and wonderfully loud conversation.

I smell an artists' potluck around the corner...

Bench Stories

2011-08-21T12:30:00.002-05:00

As an artist, I'm inclined to talk about myself a lot. It comes with the territory of being in a business that often requires endless hours of isolation making work contrasted with putting the product of those endless hours on display, of covering walls and pedestals signed, labeled, and branded with your name, next to your face and promoted with your voice and overpriced flyers.

Since summer school ended, I have been able to take a little time to breathe and reflect. Part of this has been finally taking the time to talk to people again, not just as a sleep-deprived artist answering questions and wringing her aching hands but also as a friend sharing in stories and passing refreshments around the table. People have cycled in, out, and throughout my life a lot in these past few months. Friends have moved or are moving to different states; a few have or are in the process of leaving the country. There are times when I feel sad parting ways with a friend, but then wonderful, new people enter my life; both the people I have been friends with and the new friends that I make show their support for what I do and fill my days with incredible conversations that not only ground our understanding of one another but also uplift our dreams. There is this idea, "Home is not where you are but whom you're with." A better way of viewing friendships might be, "It's about roads, not houses, and bridges, not parking lots." Or, "It's about dandelions and kudzu, not carrots and potatoes." "It's about roses, not peas (Gregor Mendel, anyone?)" This could go on.

With that said, after yesterday's post I want to continue taking time to thank some of the people who have encouraged and inspired me. I don't know how many people I can get to, but either way I may as well begin. My good friend, Seth Caplan, sent me a heart-warming text this morning, and he happens to be doing an amazing project that I think everyone should know about.

I saw Seth when I visited New York back in April, which was when he first told me about this installation idea for which he was writing a proposal. The idea was still in its infancy, but as we talked the vision became clearer and the excitement all the greater. Naturally, I was thrilled when I found out Seth's proposal had been accepted. Seth will be installing "Bench Stories" during ART IN ODD PLACES 2011, a public art festival happening this fall in New York. From Seth's website:

"Bench Stories will facilitate a moment for participants to contemplate the conflation of public and private space in pedestrian life. Two sound boxes will be installed, one in Union Square and the other on the uptown platform of the F/M 14th Street Subway station. The boxes will play the stories that have been collected for this project. Participants will have the opportunity to sit on the bench, and experience a moment of connection with another person as they listen to the stories through the sound boxes."

I love this project for a lot of reasons, but if I could pick one thing to focus on about it I would say Seth is doing what I wish I were doing more of. Like any good artist, Seth has a distinct voice, but what will make this endeavor successful is its requirement that the ears of others listen to the voices of others. No artsy middle man. No intersections of speech where drivers forget who has the right of way. Just people sharing in a conversation of ears more so than mouths where no one has to wait to say anything to understand.

Read more about the project (and contribute your own story by September 15) on Seth's website.

Support the project on Kickstarter.

Hearts in the Right Places and with the Right People

2011-08-20T18:07:00.002-05:00

Congratulations to Jason and Kelly LeRoy, who are getting married today in their beautiful new, home of Indiana!

Saying thanks is only the beginning of my gratitude for these two, who are both immensely talented artists and wonderful people. While I'm sad that they no longer live less than 10 minutes distant from me, I am perpetually inspired by their passion for and dedication to making great work, growing and improving as artists and people, pursuing their dreams, and supporting their friends and each other.

And for anyone who has known how intensely I've believed Indiana to be an imaginary place (a state named Indiana whose capital is Indianapolis can't possibly be real), I'm also happy to have gained some imaginary friends. So thanks, guys, for helping my childhood live on. :)

With that said, I really wish I knew WHERE they lived in Indiana. It just so happens that I have way too many baked goods in my home, and quite frankly these cutesy patootsey hearts are making me a little ill...

Jason and I will also be having a show together at BYO Studio Lounge this October. We plan on doing a couple collaborative pieces for the show, and I'll keep you posted when the date draws nearer.

Keep on Trucking, But Treat Yourself, Too

2011-08-15T14:12:00.004-05:00

"The sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do." – Galileo

I try to work hard. I get frustrated when things don't happen fast enough and worry it's because I don't try hard enough. I'm dreadfully afraid that with no one to monitor me I'm going to let myself waste away. Yes, it is still August, but already the air feels cooler and I am caught between an old soul's longing for jubilant and carefree days and a young up-and-comer's anxiety over unfinished business. Suddenly I'm realizing that my summer is almost gone and that in the midst of hustle and bustle I forgot that at the beginning of summer I was actually excited to be in Wisconsin. This is supposed to be the most beautiful time of year here and I'm not quite sure what I did with it.

But it's not over yet. As these summer days wind down and I continue to wind up with work, I am learning to remind myself that though there will always be more work than time to complete it, I can and should still take the time to enjoy my everyday. Because the reality is whether I accomplish a lot or a little I will still sense that I've left things undone; I can never properly assess progress during the minutes it takes place and any past chaos will reduce to a blur of information. What truly remains significant are those moments that I (and this goes for anyone) take to slow down; these memories are simple and clear and light up my heart.

There's a lake to be sitting by, there are parks to be seeing, walks to be taking.

There's ice cream (specifically in waffle cones) to be eating.

Cream puffs, too.

There are naps to be taking, whenever and wherever you get the chance.

Children to be adoring.

More naps to be taking.

Veggie omelettes (made from ingredients fresh from the farmer's market) to be making.

Cozy living rooms to be sitting in.

Furry companions to be loving and giving belly rubs.

And (though I'm fearful sometimes) I will still finish my work.

It's not about taking breaks. It's about understanding that in order to survive the universe I have to remember, I live in this neighborhood, too.

Curly Noodles, or "Rapunzel and the Alligator"

2011-08-09T16:29:00.002-05:00

I had one package of ramen noodles in my home up through this morning.

"You know you're Asian if there's an egg floating in
the middle of your ramen noodles."

I could go on about being a Midwest-grown, culturally stunted kid who only speaks English. I could hash out the harsh reality that being Asian, no matter where I was actually born, instantly colors all that I do with a distinctive, yellow hue. When I say I'm an artist, people want to know how my heritage influences my art. When I say that I like to cook, people want to know about my native cuisine or are surprised that the first thing I tell them about is my pie.

I could discuss my predictably timed introspection and endeavors in my emerging adult years to seek closeness - or at least familiarity - with my family history and roots.

But let's be real here. Just as Americans with Germanic roots boast their ethnic pride through their love and genetic ability to love copious amounts of beer, so, too, shall I take a shortcut to a sense of historic belonging, in the form of a beautiful, little brick of sodium dense food. Ramen noodles. Few things (at least gastronomically speaking) are as iconically Asian; few things make a culturally disjointed Asian American kid feel so at home.

I actually didn't know these were called "Ramen Noodles" until I was in middle school. All through childhood I called them "Curly Noodles" and since my parents knew what I meant they never corrected me.

"Curly Noodles" were a rare but glorious treat back then. Little did I know you could buy a package for 30 cents and that it was a staple in the average, poor college kid's diet (growing up is full of sorry realizations, like why did I trek all over the neighborhood in the cold on Halloween for free candy when I could have bought a whole bag of what I actually wanted for $4? But that's another matter.).

So, of course, as a dawdling eater with a wandering mind, I had a very special way of consuming this treat. I would lift up my forkful (because as a Kansan Asian I didn't use chopsticks) of noodles high above the bowl in a magnificent cascade. I would pretend this was Rapunzel's hair and that I was an alligator who lived in the pond below; because Rapunzel's hair grew so fast she needed it regularly cut.

Luckily for me, alligators like the taste of hair.

"You know you're Asian if you eat ramen noodles for
breakfast like they're pancakes and bacon."

Finally, I don't think this post could be complete without a mediocre Youtube video. The comfort of food is more than just the look of it, and since I can't satisfy your taste buds at least tantalize your ear buds. It's like sizzling bacon, Asian-style.

Oh, and there's new stuff on my website. Check it out.

Thousand-Layer Pancakes and Endless Loaves of Bread

2011-08-08T18:59:00.007-05:00

During my dad's illness, I was trying very much to avoid subject matter surrounding him in my work, but in a discussion with my playwriting professor at the time, he told me about a very painful breakup with a long-term girlfriend. At the time, he had a commission to do a play, so every day he got up and told himself, "Don't think about her, just focus on the writing," and every day he did exactly that. Not until he was sitting at the first night of the play's performance did he realize the whole thing was about her. After my dad passed away, I found my efforts were very much concentrated on preserving his story and through the work inevitably developed my story out of his. As I reached closure with the stories that we shared, I was left wondering what stories of my own would carry me forward.

I could expound, but here are a few questions that have arisen in the development of my newer work. How much do these new drawings have to do with my current life events? As my work continues to focus on themes of family and keeping, am I lingering on the past or am I living my part in a lineage of stories? Does my lineage define or simply guide me?

Three drawings-in-progress and a woodcut.

Recent conversations centering around these questions compelled me this weekend to make thousand-layer pancakes, which were among the first recipes my dad taught me to make. The reason they are called "thousand-layer" is because the pancakes, once cooked, pull apart into multiple, thin layers of deliciousness.

Yes, these are delicious with peanut butter.

I recently blogged about some of the food I've been making (did you miss out on my awesome pancakes?) and the role it plays in shared experiences. But there's more to it than just making food to share food. Going through the process itself is enough to connected with a greater story. I've been talking a lot about objects, images, and places that act as anchor points in our relationships, so I can't help sensing that my bond with process-based activities functions in this same realm. Two years has created some emotional distance between myself and my dad's memory, but I can still feel close to that history through a process that he taught me. The same goes for when I make art; I am engaging in processes that others have taught me; that others have also learned; that others will continue to learn, sometimes (and hopefully oftentimes!) from me.

My final lesson for summer school was bread-making. I taught my students to make (and sculpt!) bread dough from scratch. Most of the girls were gone for a girl scouts field trip, but I think having mostly boys kneading and forming loaves of bread made it that much more fun.

We, of course, ate the freshly baked bread the next day with bounties of peanut butter, jelly, and Nutella. The tremendous amount of leftover bread I had after this event meant I was eating sandwiches, French toast, and garlicky croutons aplenty for over the next week.

Summer Recap: Altered Books

2011-08-08T17:16:00.001-05:00

This summer has really flown by and it's easy sometimes for me to feel overwhelmed and lose sight of what I have done, so I am taking time this week to reflect. To start, here's one of the projects I did with my students in the last week of summer school: altered book. I was able to obtain bagfuls of books for 50 cents apiece from Goodwill for this project.

Here are some of the artists we looked at prior to getting to work...

Lauren Cahill

Lucille Moroni

Nicholas Jones

And here are my students' books!

Mandatory cute, goofy picture.

Stay tuned for more updates later this week!

Pancakes For Every Meal

2011-08-07T23:54:00.001-05:00

I ate pancakes with strawberries and bananas for breakfast.

And pancakes with scrambled eggs and veggies for dinner.

What a yummy Sunday.

Questions and Answers 13: Free Time

2011-08-02T12:18:00.006-05:00

I'm a little ashamed sometimes of how much I like food. Lately, when people have asked me what I do with my free time, the first thing I think is, "Free time?" and the second thing is, "Oh! Well, I like to cook and eat..." I often wonder how much more productive I could be if I weren't so inclined to think about my taste buds and stomach.

Of course, it's not just about the food; the truth is, while I am starting to feel more comfortable in Milwaukee, I think what I often find myself missing is sharing with others on a daily basis. I share my art whenever I finish a new piece and I like to teach when I can, but while art and teaching share the intent of communicating and connecting with other people, both very easily get caught up in the formalities of process and the environments in which they are set. There is a sense of simplicity, immediacy, and comfort that is unique to sharing a home-cooked meal. It has to do with the atmosphere that's created by the sounds of bubbling and banging pots and pans; savory smells that linger long after the food is consumed; and interactions among people who have all been drawn to gather around the same table, to fill that table with soon-to-be-empty dishes and hopefully to linger a while after. Even when I was really busy in school I was always cooking for and with other people, whereas these days I mainly cook for myself. I will still put a lot of time into a meal for one because I do care about eating well--and about being able to take the time to treat myself well--but let's face it, food is that much better when spiced with conversation.

A little over a week ago, I had the talented artists (and beautiful couple) Jason and Kelly Limberg over for dinner. June and a lot of July flew by in a chaos of work and stress and for a while I kind of forgot about human interaction; I'm blessed to know people like Kelly and Jason, who bring me back to Earth for some down time and remind me that even the work that takes me away from reality is ultimately still about and for people. The two of them just moved to start their new studio practice in Indiana, where I am certain they will thrive, even if I still think Indiana sounds like an imaginary place (Indianapolis, Indiana? Really, now?).

Oh, and for anyone who's curious, I didn't get photos, but here's what we had for dinner: chicken drumsticks marinated in Tandoori spices, then sauteed and simmered in a sweet/spicy soy sauce based sauce with garlic, onions, and beet greens. For dessert, we had ice cream sandwiches made with soft ginger cookies with coconut filled with peach-ginger ice cream and finished in a coat of chocolate; they weren't pretty, but they were delish. Jason kindly supplied Shiner Double Wheat for libations.

Soft ginger cookies with coconut and peach-ginger
ice cream, coated in chocolate.

With that said, here's a snippet of other fares from my kitchen.

Spinach pasta in a raspberry-gouda sauce with vegetables.

Baked trout with lemon-coconut bread stuffing,
served with sauteed carrots and beet greens

Dark chocolate brownies with roasted cherries

Okay, so I didn't cook these, but cherries, kettle corn, and a
glass of milk are still a wonderful way to start the morning.

French Toast (with Breadsmith's apple pie bread)
topped with yogurt, cocoa, and cinnamon

This is my award-winning strawberry-rhubarb pie from
two years ago. I have yet to make my signature pie this summer,
but if someone can promise to eat this with me I will gladly
do so before the summer is up.

The Seat of My Skirt

2011-07-31T21:15:00.004-05:00

I'm a to-do list person. I like my little check mark boxes, squeal with glee when I check things off my list, and feel worthless when items roll over onto the next day's list.

That said, I kicked the to-do list this week and allowed things to just...happen.

Here's how the week went.

I woke up bright and early on Sunday, July 24th, and decided to go to Fondy Farmer's Market before work. After showering, I thumbed through my closet, realized there was nothing I wanted to wear, and came across a very old, ankle-length dress that in the past near I never got around to altering. I got out my sewing machine right then, tailored the dress, and dressed myself on the spot. I did this, bought lots of fresh produce and flowers, and made it to work on time.

I was so eager to get to this that I forgot to take
a proper before picture, so here's during.

Obligatory mirror shots. Of course there's a bow in the back.

The finished look, with shoes I also haven't worn in years.

I haven't decided what to do with the leftover fabric yet. Should I add a ruffle to the skirt, make a shawl/scarf...? It might be a tad too little fabric to make a matching cardigan. Thoughts?

As for the rest of my week, I baked dozens of loaves of bread, roasted beets, cooked saag, steamed uchepos, made vegetable stock, and pretty much took the time to cook and eat great foods every day.

Raspberries with breakfast every morning!

I finished the sixth and final week of summer school. This week, my students got to create altered books, decorate t-shirts, and make bread dough from scratch!

Kneading dough is crazy fun!

More pictures of my students' beautiful books soon!

I had a great Gallery Night and finished the night running the art lottery during Iron Printmaker at RedLine.

Art lottery!

One of the competing teams. Handicap: blindfolds.

I gave a printing demonstration outside of Caggio during the Brady Street Festival on Saturday (footage soon). I also finished my piled up errands from the past three weeks, went running, did my laundry, got a full night's sleep, had my hair cut and beautifully styled, and finished this drawing.

Juncture, ink on paper

How do I feel at the close of this week? Lovely! I spent less time trying to decide what to do next and pretty much constantly...did things. Turns out a lot can get done that way. Does this mean that I've kicked the to-do list for good? Definitely not, but it's been nice lightening up on myself this week and letting life carry me for a change.

Q&A 12 and a wee bit o' printing

2011-07-23T02:22:00.015-05:00

Q&A Session 12, addressing my lack of bilingual-ness.

I gave a demonstration at the Milwaukee Art Museum last week, on July 17th. Basically, I displayed my artwork and spent the whole day making countless prints with children. It was awesome. I was tuckered.

Unfortunately, as the demonstrator, I didn't have much opportunity to document the event myself, but this little girl was too cute not to film.

I'll post more photos soon, but in the mean time, these will suffice.

Ce n'est pas moi. (/bad joke)

The setup.

Prints galore!

Do I spy some new drawings...?

What y'all really want to see.

Aries Tjhin, demonstrating his lovely cut paper pieces.

Printin'.

Putting some serious muscle into it.

The big reveal!

Too good.

Questions and Answers 11: About the Bird

2011-07-16T15:07:00.002-05:00

Also...new artwork fresh off the drawing board.

Stay tuned for its partner piece.

Loose, ink on paper

Questions and Answers 10: Have you heard?

2011-07-13T19:16:00.002-05:00

Bird is the word.

Questions and Answers 9: How are you?

2011-07-10T01:31:00.023-05:00

There are too many motorcycles in my neighborhood. This makes podcasting difficult.

Oh, well.

At school on Friday, we went on a field trip to Rushing Waters in Kenosha, where every student got to go fishing and take home their catch.

Us lucky staff members also got to take home some fish.

Baked trout with lemon-coconut bread stuffing,
served with sauteed carrots and beet greens

Flowers of the Week: Snapdragons

Finally, thank you to everyone who made it to the opening at Caggio. I will try to have more images from the show soon. Until then, if you didn't make the opening (or even just want to go see the work again), the show will be up through August 8th and there will be a second reception for Gallery Day on July 29th. You can also view the new work on my website.

New Drawings Debuting at Caggio

2011-07-05T18:22:00.001-05:00

Caggio is celebrating its two-year anniversary this month! Stop by this Friday, July 8th, between 5 and 10 pm for the opening of a wonderful, new show.

My amazing and talented friend, Stephanie Barenz, is their featured artist this month and will be showing a new body of artwork for the event.

I will also be debuting a new series of drawings I've been toiling away at...maybe it's just my sleepless brain talking, but I'm kind of digging the range of marks I've been working with.

Here's a sneak peek...

Tenderness I, ink and watercolor on paper

Detail shot from Pull, ink and watercolor on paper

Detail shot from Tenderness III, watercolor on paper

If you can't make the opening, the exhibit will be on display through August 8th; there will also be a second reception on Gallery Night, Friday, July 29th. But seriously, just come to the opening so we can see one another's pretty faces. ;)

In the studio

2011-07-02T17:49:00.002-05:00

Today is a day of art-making and junk food eating. This means I am stocked up on snacks, candy, and desserts. This also means that I've discovered how amazing it is to dip crystallized ginger pieces in slightly melty butter brittle ice cream. Yum. Now my snack supply does include peaches and carrots, so it all balances out, right?

Banana cream pie I bought at Bay View Farmer's Market.
I promptly dropped it on my walk home,
but it was still delicious.

I love it when my studio table is a mess.
It's honestly the only kind of clutter that makes me happy
instead of crazy.

The Un-Chosen One

2011-07-01T01:09:00.005-05:00

For the non-readers, I'm trying something new (and yes, you may read into this as me testing the waters for a new project):

A year ago, I moved to Milwaukee with my former boyfriend. I followed because at the time he was the most promising aspect of my life, and though Milwaukee is no cultural wonder and the economy is bad I told myself that I could make it anywhere, so it may as well be here. With my father's passing a year behind me; my artwork about him reaching a sense of closure; and no inclination to return to Kansas, to my mom, or to the house where my dad died, I looked at moving to Milwaukee as a chance to start a normal life.

Here's where things went wrong: I lost my community. In the places where we grow up and the schools that we attend, we have the support of these built-in networks. Suddenly I was in a city with no opportunity, and the one person I knew had no dream. I thought that once I started working things would get better, but instead I found myself overwhelmed by the hopeless state of Milwaukee Public schools and torn to shreds by children who had no value for what I wanted to teach them. Worse, I felt exhausted, unable to make art, uninspired, and conversation-deprived.

Here's where things started going right: I took ownership of where I was. I regained the voice I lost during my father's illness, or rather, gained a better one. I learned to be aggressive in pushing for improvement in my classroom; I learned to love my students even when they didn't love me, to feel that what I am doing is worthwhile even when the future holds no promises. I learned to be the one to start the conversations I want to have. And perhaps most importantly, I learned to fail. I learned to fail with my students and yet come back the next day ready to try again. I learned to accept when opportunities fell through. I learned to let go of a kind, loving relationship that had ceased to grow, and to do so with integrity. I'm learning to be brave enough to pursue my ambitions, even at the risk of pain and disappointment. I'm learning to say that I deserve better and to actively seek it, even if better may never come.

Here's where things fall into question: The point at which I started to feel better about living in Milwaukee was when I stopped prioritizing the relationship I came here for and started prioritizing myself. But in the aftermath of the breakup, I sometimes find myself wondering, what does it mean for me to search for myself in a city I didn't choose for myself, but for somebody else? What kind of person does it make me, not only to leave my lover but also to give up on my best friend? Does choosing to be on my own--to leap into uncertainty--make me brave or strong--or simply foolish? I live hundreds of miles away from my closest friends, closest relations, my father is gone, and the one person in Milwaukee who has known me for five years and knows me better than anyone else is the one person I can't reach out to.

In the past year, I have taken charge of establishing myself and finding a sense of belonging, but also uprooted myself from belonging and familiarity. So what will I discover about myself--and how successful can I be--now that I am truly on my own, making choices on my own, under circumstances I both did and did not choose? At what point do I cease being vulnerable and afraid and start being confident and open? If and when I reach that point, will I find happiness?

----

Back in February, I posted about my Apathy Jar but never followed up on what happened with it.

At the end of March, the apathy jar contained $15, so 15 instances of apathy.

I've had all sorts of ideas for what to do with the $15, but in the chaos of moving to my new apartment and in the general chaos of life, so far all I've done is tucked that money away and used the jar in my home decor.

I want to buy gifts for people, but what? How can I get the best bang for my $15?

Brene Brown's amazing talk on vulnerability that I keep going back to for reassurance.

STEAMROLLER

2011-06-29T20:29:00.015-05:00

After a few days of physical, mental, and emotional numbness, the first sensations are returning to my body--for one thing, I'm regaining mobility in my hand again.

Last Saturday I participated in STEAMROLLER, a fundraising event for RedLine and Danceworks. I have had a pretty stressful last few weeks and having over a hundred hours of carving packed into my schedule was certainly no small thing...and perhaps the bane of every printmaker's existence is that even when the plate is done the work has only begun, because then it's time to print!

Turns out printmaking isn't as simple as running your plate over with something heavy, either, and for a while my tense, sleepless mind could hardly handle dealing with all the things that can and do go wrong when printing, from under-inking your plate, to dried out ink fixating to your plate, to uneven pressure, to push marks, to inexplicably large sections of the plate just not printing, etc. But it's okay! Because in the end my 12 hours there were totally worth it; the event was a success and I had a sense of immense satisfaction looking at all the prints on display for the silent auction that evening.

Video footage from the event:

Making Steamroller Art at Redline Milwaukee from ThirdCoast Digest on Vimeo.
Read the event article by ThirdCoast Digest here.

Documentation:

Finished woodblock.

Other amazing woodblocks at the event
(pictured blocks by John Hitchcock and
Drew Iwaniw from Madison).

Printing!

Progress shot of inking my block.
Photos by John Hitchcock.

Finally feeling happy for the first time in days. It's
that "Oh, my God, I forgot how sexy woodblocks
look" feeling when you ink up your block for the
very first time, an emotional high soon to be
demolished by that first print that doesn't
turn out right.

I have to say, had I gotten nothing else out of the
event, I am happy to have photographic proof
that inking a giant woodblock has a way of
making a person look seriously badass.

. . .

Am I the only one who thinks so?

Overview of printing.
Photo by John Hitchcock.

Nick Francel came up from St. Louis for the
event. Here is his absolutely amazing woodblock.

Nick inking up his block.

Checking out the finished print.

The silent auction begins.

My finished print!

View of STEAMROLLER from above.

Thank you to RedLine, Danceworks, and FLUX Design for making this event happen, to Kari Couture and Kimberly Weiss for inviting me to be a part of it, and to Nick Francel for driving six hours to participate and commiserate with me in those final hours of carving, printing, and hair-tearing over why we chose this profession.

Questions and Answers 8: On Having Patience

2011-06-20T08:32:00.005-05:00

This is the first video I've recorded in my new apartment...since I'm living and breathing woodcut right now I thought it'd be a nice idea to record myself carving. Turns out that talking while carving is more difficult than I could have anticipated, but it was worth a try, I think.

A close-up on the progress:

Also for the first time since I started printmaking, I actually fell asleep on top of my block with a sharp carving tool in hand by my face. Luckily, there wasn't anyone to document this (albeit brief) occurrence like there was a few years ago when I started printmaking.

Working on my very first printing plate; you can already see how I was teeming with potential back then:

On a final note, I started teaching summer school this week. I'm so happy with the new layout and sense of organization in my classroom, even if I spent way too much time last week turning the whole room's contents (storage and all) upside-down (or actually right-side up since it's WAY better now).

I can't keep my eyes open any longer, so cheers and good night.

Cut Cut Cut

2011-06-14T12:30:00.003-05:00

The past two weeks have been full of hustle and bustle; here's a synopsis of what I've been up to.

I taught a Woodcut Workshop at RedLine Printshop and it was a blast. I think everyone in the world should learn how to do woodcut. It makes you a better person. Seriously. Here are a few images from the workshop.

Trying some hand printing.

Prints! (A woodcut of wood grains. Clever.)

In other news, I am participating in RedLine and Danceworks' upcoming fundraiser: STEAMROLLER. I will be one of 20 artists doing large-scale woodblocks to be laid out in the streets and printed with...you guessed it.

Event poster.

Sneak peeks of the progress.

The school year is over, but I start teaching summer school next week. On a parting note, one of my students painted my hand. I'm apparently a Goth now.

And finally, slowly but surely, my new home is coming together.

Cutesy-patootsie and unapologetically feminine.

Sweet potato chips and eggplant glazed in lemon-honey-ginger sauce with sea salt. Served on country buttertop bread.

As I carve away, this lazy jerk is making more use of my comfy furniture than I am.

Relaxing Activity: A Productive Diversion

2011-05-27T20:22:00.008-05:00

An updated preview of my new body of work is now on my website.

Relaxing activity. By standard definition, it's a paradox. But standard doesn't necessarily mean right.

The scenario: I'm busy, and while I like being busy I can't work nonstop. I need to take breaks.

The feeling: We've all been there, filled with bound energy, the opposite of boundless, losing focus yet feeling restless and really just needing to relax.

The problem: There's a difference between needing to relax and needing to rest. When we're tired, vegging out and doing nothing is fine. Otherwise, it just leaves us feeling more anxious. Why? Because oftentimes to relax, people plop in front of the TV or mindlessly click through their RSS Feeds, but the sedated feeling that follows isn't relaxation. It's lethargy, which interrupts our flow and leaves us trapped in this confusing combination of idle weariness and panicked anxiety over seemingly insurmountable tasks.

It seems ironic that in order to get our work done we often need to chill out. Anxious minds are busy minds, so why wouldn't that translate to busy bodies and productivity? Very simply, rushing the results rarely turns out well. It speaks not merely of our unwillingness to invest our time but more specifically of our lack of patience.

The vicious cycle goes as follows: we focus on the result instead of the process and invest our time accordingly, thinking a great deal about what we want but not doing enough to achieve it; ultimately, we fail both to enjoy the process and obtain the desired result. We attribute this failure to a lack of time rather than a lack of commitment, and consequently become less patient and lose even more time.

This is a problem I've been butting heads a lot with lately; I feel like I'm busy and moving fast with my day, yet without immediate results or gratification I'm feeling pretty unaccomplished. I know that in order to produce the artwork and pursue the projects that I want I need to work patiently. But there's no getting rid of that need for instant payback, and there doesn't need to be.

The solution: In order to ease my mind and regain my focus, I need to do something.

I remember freshman year of college everyone used to ask me how I got my Calculus homework done so quickly. The answer? When I needed to take a break from art-making, I did a few Calculus problems. I was able to slow down and divert myself while keeping my mind engaged on something that produced immediate results.

I'm a little ashamed to admit that now, but it's kind of the same idea here. Sometimes our minds are still whirring when we require a break from the workflow, and what we need isn't rest but a release for that energy we can't quite seem to focus.

So I've been doing a lot of stress cooking and baking...

Vegetable fried rice

Spiced bread + dark chocolate spread

I don't have a lot of food/ingredients in my new home, however, a fact that lends itself to some lovely problem-solving reminiscent of my old Calculus homework (/nerd). I'm still solving problems while taking a break from the work I'm running into walls with.

I've been baking my own bread since moving, including such fare as raspberry beer bread and rosemary bread, and making a variety of both sweet and savory spreads to consume these baked goods with. Then I ran out of flour, and with no eggs or dairy in my home but a copious supply of restlessness I began experimenting with gluten-free, vegan baking. My current side quest: perfect gluten-free brownies.

After a failed first attempt (which I shamefully still ate because the batter was chocolaty and delicious and it wasn't like there were any sketchy ingredients in it), I made these peanut butter brownies. Fudgy with a perfect, crisp edge and suitable for a peanut butter/chocolate fix, but not good enough to fulfill a pure craving for rich, rich chocolate.

Gluten-free peanut butter brownies

Here's my most recent attempt.

Gluten-free dark chocolate brownies

The verdict: I was going for dark, rich chocolate, but these may be too dark for most people, and they lacked the crisp edge of the peanut butter brownies. I'm getting closer, but I'll have to keep trying.

The conclusion: Do I feel more relaxed yet? Not really, maybe because I want to keep baking but am out of flour, chocolate, sugar, and black beans, and low on everything besides water. Maybe because I've diverted my energy long enough and need to get back to the real work now that my art table is finished and I no longer have to sit miserably on the floor.

What do you do to feel more relaxed, to escape your to-do list without killing it?

Student Art Show at the Milwaukee Art Museum

2011-05-27T00:38:00.008-05:00

I'm in the process of updating my website/doing a lot of background work for upcoming projects and schemes. In other words, I'm doing the invisible work that leaves me feeling disgruntled at the end of the night when I've got nothing to show for myself.

So while I wallow in the murky in-between spaces of imperceptible, dubious productivity, here are some images from my students' show at the Milwaukee Art Museum for their Family Sundays. The theme of the Museum's event was "Animal Menagerie," which of course suited me just fine.

Various wire sculptures by my fifth graders.

Linoleum Block Prints. I only let the older kids carve these, though I couldn't keep the younger ones from all the fun, so of course we had some little helpers when it came time to print! Hooray communal printmaking! Here's the previous post with pictures of them carving and printing.

Close-ups on some prints. Funnily enough, I think the 2nd and 3rd graders who helped me print editions were less inclined to get salty prints than the older classes.

Two installations of various paper and aluminum foil birds by my kindergartners.

Collaborative koi ponds (K4-3rd grades) and hand paintings.

Full wall shot.

Close-up on hand (and face) paintings (pictured: Dalmatian, cat, snake, white horse, spider, flying eagle, design, reindeer, sign language letters L and E).

I spent way too long matting and labeling these (pictured: chimpanzee, rabbit, cat, Batman, coral reef, dolphin, squid, horse, butterfly, woolly mammoth).

More close-ups (pictured: bald eagle, elephant, snake, bird lady, raccoon).

Bald Eagle.

Ladybug.

Ghoul/Octopus.

Red Panda.

Spider.

A whole lotta paintings.

I love their interpretations of "Starry Night."

I, of course, couldn't leave without partaking in the activities the Museum was providing. Check out my awesome porcupine.

With all the hand and face paintings my students were doing, I only deemed it appropriate to do a lesson on Giuseppe Arcimboldo and paint my face accordingly...

I couldn't call myself either a good artist or educator if I weren't willing to get a little paint on myself as well, now could I?

In other news, for anyone in the Milwaukee area (or anyone who loves me just that much), there's still time to sign up for my Woodcut Workshop at RedLine this Saturday, May 28th, 1-4 pm. If you haven't been to RedLine or experienced the wonders of carving a woodblock, you should definitely come to this class! It's going to be awesome. REGISTER HERE.

Coming up: new artwork, Q&A Session 8, and a synopsis of culinary adventures.

WORKSPACE: The Never Ending Quest for Improvement

2011-05-18T21:12:00.004-05:00

Many of you may remember when I got this table last summer:

The original table was a beautiful (and serendipitous) find on Craigslist (I originally wanted the lady's flat file, but it was sold by the time I got to her studio...). I updated the table to include four glorious shelves for an attractive and compact art storage unit and workspace.

There was just one problem: the shelves were stationary. I did this to be cost efficient; however, it made getting large prints and papers off the shelves (especially since this was situated in a narrow room) a HUGE PAIN. I also constructed these shelves by building structural frames out of two-by-fours and covering them with thin masonite board; again, this was the frugal approach, but the shelves were heavy and when it came time for me to move, taking this table apart was nothing short of nightmarish.

That said, I decided that since I had to take the table apart in order to move it (it wouldn't fit out the door otherwise), this would be a good opportunity to improve its design with brand spanking new DRAWERS!

And what a headache that has been. Did you know that hardly anybody carries 30-inch drawer slides, and those that do don't keep them in stock because, surprise, surprise, people don't buy them very often? Anyway, I was thrilled when the parts finally arrived so I could stop living with a pile of lumber and actually have a table again!

Here are some photos of the building process:

I also added casters. I can now roll my table (almost) wherever I want by myself!

I was so happy when I finally finished building this thing, only to realize that I couldn't actually finish it by myself. The top of the table is six feet across, several inches thick, and heavy as all hell, and trust me, even though I knew it was impossible, out of obstinacy I earnestly tried to complete the job on my own. But I couldn't, so the table sat like this for several days while I pouted...

...fortunately, the wonderful Stephanie Barenz came to my aid, and with our combined woman strength we put that hefty tabletop in its place.

The finished table!

Finally unpacking my prints and papers.

I'm thrilled about my new table. Mind you, it wasn't cheap. Casters + drawer slides + good plywood for the shelving came to a total of $240, a painful expense to make when you're living on a shoestring budget. That said, it was a worthwhile investment. True, you don't need a fancy workspace to make good art. I could just sit on the floor. But just as I should always push to learn and grow as an artist, so too should I want and seek to improve all aspects of my process, which includes the design of my work environment. The first time I built this table it was exactly what I was aiming for, a compact work surface and storage unit, which was great. Now, it's compact, mobile, and efficient, which is better. It's also lighter in its design, and in the future will be easier to take apart and reassemble should I need to move it again.

And frankly, it was still a tenth of the cost of a regular flat file, a heavy, single-purpose, unmodifiable, immobile flat file.

Oh, and yes, this does mean that I now know how to build a table like this and can help you build your own. I got skills.

This is one in a truckload of updates. Be ready.

Art Teacher, Art Teacher

2011-05-09T10:56:00.002-05:00

I just moved to a new apartment about a week ago and am still without internet, which means I'm blogging from the local library. Super glamorous, I know.

Anyway, I've been mad busy, waving my arms like an octopus in a crazed conduction of the various sectors of my life. One of these sectors is teaching.

I've been teaching my students how to carve and print linoleum blocks this past month, and honestly, I'm going a little nuts over the work they've done. Teaching my kids printmaking is bringing out my inner geek full blast, and a bubble of joy rises and bursts within my soul each time one of them pulls a print.

Carving away:

Pulling the FIRST print:

Ta-da!

Looking at all the hard work.

I have also been preparing my students' work for an art show at the Milwaukee Art Museum (this Sunday, May 15th!). Since my art table isn't assembled yet, I've been doing all my work on the floor. Charlemagne resents how busy I've been and expresses this by lying on top of the paper I'm using and staring at me longingly while I work.

Neglected:

Teaching printmaking to kids gets pretty chaotic considering I have an hour (minus set-up and clean-up time) with each class, but I've really been in my element teaching it. I also love getting to share what I do with my students, and finding out that kids LOVE printmaking. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

In other teaching-related news, I will be leading a woodcut demonstration at RedLine Milwaukee Printshop on May 28th, from 1-4 pm. Sign up here today!

New artwork is forthcoming; I will update my website once I have internet in my home again. At some point I will need to go furniture shopping so I can stop sitting on the floor...

Questions and Answers 7: What's in a name?

2011-04-24T14:02:00.002-05:00

Today I explain why my name is spelled the way it is.

Plus a little drawing to whet your palate.

New York City

2011-04-23T19:55:00.001-05:00

I visited New York City for the first time this week and it was amazing. Here is an account of my trip through a little sketchbook I bought in a quirky Bible book shop while I was there.

The Church of Santa Monica in Manhattan.

Some birds I shared a cranberry scone with in Central Park; this was a bit of a failed drawing attempt as it started to rain and my pen marks began turning into puddles on the page.

The Metropolitan Art Museum.

Picturesque view framed by obviously fake tulips from inside H&H Midtown Bagels East.

Central Park.

Woman and children on the Subway. That's a poorly rendered backpack sitting on top of the stroller, and while I was drawing the stroller's awning (?) started to collapse and the backpack nearly crushed the unassuming baby. Another passenger caught the backpack and Mom popped the awning back out and put the bag back on top of it again.

Lady sitting across from me in the Subway. Somebody clocked me in the face with the side of their arm and I nearly stuck my pen in my eye, which is reflected metaphorically by the pen mark shooting out of this woman's eye in the drawing.

Guy who stood in front of the lady I was just drawing. Also a little girl wearing a tiara watching me draw.

Guy at the airport texting. Always people texting.

Sitting on the plane. This guy looked exactly like Nicolas Cage.

I kept drawing the Nicolas Cage doppelganger in an attempt to capture his Nicolas Cageness, which I failed to do. Unfortunately there was nothing more interesting to draw on the plane besides "Nicolas" over and over again.

Finally, I serendipitously found myself in Printed Matter on my last day in New York. Check out these cute Jenie Gao drawings from back in the day!

I was amused, though the hipsters running this show were less so when I told them about my little discovery in their shop. It's my happiness that counts anyway.

Now that I'm back in the good ol' Midwest, though, keep your eyes peeled for a website update. It's coming...soon! Soon!

Questions and Answers 6: Mistakes

2011-04-16T10:43:00.001-05:00

Today's question: Are you ever afraid of messing up?

To prove that I'm not all talk, here are some tasty previews of works to come:

Questions and Answers 5: Roots

2011-04-09T04:37:00.002-05:00

Time is no object when you're awake anyway, so I decided to end my night by recording session 5. Maybe I was hoping to talk myself to sleep.

This is a unique session with more questions than answers and a failure to center the camera.

It's 4:30 AM, so good night!

It's Three in the Morning.

2011-04-02T02:59:00.004-05:00

And already it feels like a better day.

Questions and Answers 4: True Love

2011-03-29T09:57:00.002-05:00

Do you believe true love exists?

Professor of Adventure

2011-03-26T09:18:00.006-05:00

Last week I visited St. Louis for SGC.

In the midst of Professors, Students, Alumni, and occasional Box Lunches hailing from fancy universities, institutes, and official-sounding presses, I felt a little out of place having my name tag state that I was coming to the Southern Graphics Council International Printmaking Conference from an elementary school. It's not that I feel illegitimate in my role. But here at the budding of my career potential, what made me choose to enter this title on my registration for the conference, as opposed to Alumnus of Washington University, or Artist, or Printmaker, all of which would have been incredibly appropriate for this event that I was attending? I suppose this is the title I have according to my taxes, though I should hope that my attitude towards life pursuits isn't regimented by ugly form-filling.

Since returning from St. Louis, I have been thinking about how specific my official job title is, and how specialized I truly can be at this time in my life. What I am finding more and more as time goes on is that I live--and lecture--like a jack of all trades, except not quite because I don't actually have that many trades (perhaps Jenie of some trades is the demi version?).

But very simply, I have resolved this much: in art I identify with printmaking because I can claim it to be a philosophy, not just a technique, so it's like having a specialty without the commitment. In education, I am plainly "teacher," with none of the presumed level of achievement that "professor" implies or even the sense of budding potential of "student." I'm actually a little fond of this ideal, for in my generic role I have managed to teach in classrooms from age groups four through twenty-something and influenced an amount of life beyond that. This is especially interesting because time spent in education tends to correlate with greater specialization in a given subject matter. Students study to specialize and educators (of all sorts) teach what they specialize in. And according to my official title, specialty is my thing.

In less than a year, the people I went to school with seem all at once in the same boat of the unknown future while also bearing a fairly resolved understanding of how or whether our studies will continue in our lives. For those of us in the art school, some of us will be artists, others will not. Some will work in the arts. Some have a set plan for at least another year or maybe more, others a few weeks at best and then anything goes depending on how fortune might grace us. Lease renewals are coming up. Decisions need to be made. Little is guaranteed or even practical. We are lucky in our good health and material comforts, but we would prefer to feel special in what we do.

Presently, I find that the greatest hindrance in my life is a terrible case of cold feet caused by nothing more than speculation on possibilities. Anything is possible, but what do I want to be possible? Where will I place myself and what work will I do to make certain possibilities more possible than others? How long can I sustain my excitement for possibilities with no guarantees to cushion my progress and the measurable results of my dreams farther off in the future than the immediate, "practical" choices I will need to make?

In the mean time, what do I tell people I'm doing when what I am working towards is not yet evident? What title can I assume?

The Immense Task of Doing Enough

2011-03-16T00:51:00.001-05:00

In a recent phone conversation, my mother said to me, "Now I don't want to scare you, but you might be one of those people who just won't achieve very much until later in life. The problem is you're the kind of person who tries to do too much all at once. You have a hard time giving your attention to just one thing, you're always pursuing a million ideas, and given your personality you're probably not going to calm down and start narrowing your focus until you're at least thirty. But don't worry, because once you're older you'll settle down and then you'll start seeing the results you just weren't able to get sooner."

Naturally, this worried me a great deal, especially as our conversation vacillated between my power trip on activities and vents of extreme vexation resulting from said activities.

To make an understatement, living in Milwaukee has been less than ideal. Little has gone wrong, but then little has been proven right; and in the midst of establishing my artistic practice while working two jobs with a third one that's just budding and picking up opportunities in between I feel all at once like I'm taking charge of my life while absolutely relinquishing control of my potential. To echo a good friend's sentiments, I feel like a donkey with a carrot dangling in front of my face. As much as I sense and experience the progress in my classroom, I can't guarantee that my program will be sustained. As well as people receive my artwork, I can only hope for sales. And as much as I extend my energies, the culmination of my many pursuits (frankly) produces very little return. Frequently, I carry home the weight of my students' seemingly irreparable qualms to rest them on top of my own inviable situation. The harsh reality is that those of us who wish to extend our helping hands to others frequently can't use those same hands to help ourselves.

That being said, this is pretty much just how I function. I could just have one job, stop seeking out random projects, stop adding to my to-do list. But I love feeling my life in motion. In a stagnant environment that offers no promises, the best feeling I can give myself is to know I am always mobile, always learning, always growing.

Yet how do I go about measuring progress of an unpredictable life? I'm wondering this quite a lot, especially since I'll be leaving for SGC tomorrow. This will be a printmaking conference and college reunion wrapped in one. I'm excited, but I feel like I'm walking into a critique with very little to hang up on the walls; my blood runs slightly cold with the fear that I haven't done enough with myself (maybe because I really haven't).

In considering my mom's evaluation of me, I'm having a hard time figuring out what the right choices are. I like feeling mobile, but maybe I'm substituting mobility for the truly worthwhile pursuit of progress, which requires a lot more dedication and resolution on my part, and as noted in my Apathy Jar post, I have a hard time making up my mind. A lot of us do, actually, especially at this time when we're physically young but mentally aware that we won't always be, that we need to seize the day but know too little about upcoming days to know what exactly we're supposed to be seizing. Four hours, four days, four years, these are very long short times that weigh in immensely on our careers, friendships, relationships, and dreams. The looming question, then, is to what should we dedicate--and to whom should we give--our hearts?

I've been working on a new suite of woodcuts lately, and needless to say I tried to get it going in too many ways at once and I'm not very far in the series. But carving feels glorious and I'm very quickly learning to love hand-printing--it feels so intimate compared to cranking things through a press.

On that note, I'm going to bed, and in approximately twelve hours I hope to start seeing many friendly faces that I've been missing so dearly. :)

Questions and Answers 3: Artists

2011-03-08T22:34:00.001-06:00

Here's a good quote to go with this video from one of the closest books to my heart, The Phantom Tollbooth, by writer/pun-maker/architect Norton Juster on the subject of mathematics in the context of literature here applied to my artistic philosophies:

"...for one of the nicest things about mathematics, or anything else you might care to learn, is that many of the things which can never be, often are. You see it's very much like your trying to reach Infinity. You know that it's there, but you just don't know where-but just because you can never reach it doesn't mean that it's not worth looking for. "

P.S. For anyone within the vicinity of Peoria, IL, check out some artist book action of mine in the 33rd Bradley International Print and Drawing Show, where I have a book and a few pamphlets. The show runs from March 5th through April 15th.

Mini Ventures

2011-03-06T00:24:00.001-06:00

The WI Women in Art Show at the Marshall Building opened last night. Here are some images of my work in the show.

This has been a week of prospective adventures and multifaceted possibilities, jumping from job to job to task to task within each day. A lot is cooking but everything's still waiting to be served.

Speaking of cooking, however, I finally tried making some pickle cupcakes. I made them with bread-and-butter pickles and a little bit of strawberry yogurt; pickle cupcakes are moist, tart, fragrant, and shockingly delectable with maple nut ice cream (at least I think so).

Finally, I did a few miniature self-portraits this week. There's nothing like taking some little bitty sketch time when you're itching to see immediate results but everything you're working on requires patience.

There is no time to wait, only to do.

New Business Cards!

2011-03-02T08:55:00.001-06:00

500 brand spanking new cards to go with my brand spanking new website.

I love it when things arrive a week earlier than expected.

Questions and Answers 2: Printmaking

2011-03-01T22:42:00.001-06:00

Here's the second session of my Q&A series.

Aside from the self reference in third person, I think this went okay.

In other news, I will have some artwork in the WI Women in Art Show, hosted by Morgan Oldenburg of SPILL Design. So if you're in the Milwaukee area (or just crazy eager to visit me), come see us for the opening!

Other things of intrigue:

The artwork of Hye Yeon Nam, who uses digital media and installation as means of discussing the complexities of social relationships
Venomous raptors. For real. Paleontologist David Burnham of the University of Kansas found one in China (and yes, I am tickled by the fact that he's from my home state). But even better than the discovery of venomous raptors? The fact that Burnham's email address is dinosaur@ku.edu. Not that I'm encouraging people to spam him, but that's got to be the best thing I've learned all day.

Burgeoning

2011-02-27T00:18:00.003-06:00

Check out three new works posted to my website. Pictured here is a detail shot of one of my newest drawings.

I will also have art in the upcoming Wisconsin Women in Art show at Milwaukee's Marshall Building in the Third Ward. The show opens Friday, March 4, from 5 to 9 pm, and will remain up for the duration of the weekend. RSVP to the Facebook event here. I hope to see you there!

More stuff to come.

Burgeoning excitement.

------life------

Just watched:

Just read:

Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton
Street of Crocodiles, Bruno Schulz

Currently reading:

Journey to the Center of the Earth, Jules Verne
The Element, Ken Robinson
various books on palm reading

About to read:

Running the Numbers, Chris Jordan
various books on face analysis

About to reread:

The Andromeda Strain, Michael Crichton

------swallow it whole------

Questions and Answers

2011-02-23T21:19:00.001-06:00

I'm a far cry from a social butterfly, but I crave good conversations. Communication makes me thrive.

So when I found myself accumulating a collection of questions people have asked about my creative practice and whimsically wishing to a friend that I could just go around rambling about art, the Q&A page was born.

I've typed up a short list of Q&As, now available on my website: here

That being said, typed answers don't say anything. And talking is fun.

It's all about keeping the dialogue open. Got a question for me? Ask away! You may get a low budget video response. :)

A few questions to be answered:

How does your Chinese heritage influence your work?

Why printmaking instead of painting or sculpture?

How has your art changed over time?

Apathy Jar

2011-02-22T09:12:00.002-06:00

Moving to a new place is hard.

Moving to a new place without any plans about what you're going to do once you get there - sucks. You've uprooted yourself without any real plan to preside over the actions.

The kind of emotional upheaval that followed my move was one I had not previously encountered. There were no waves of over-excitement that wrested me from my senses, only a steadily growing indifference as the hopes for adventure wore off and I settled into a way of living that failed to suit me. Though there is technically nothing wrong in my life, I have found myself not only compromised in the pursuit of my wants, but not really knowing what I want at all.

What it comes down to is this: if you have failed to fall in love with your situation by the time the newness of it wears off, you simply will not love it. But you will get used to it.

I don't like "being used to life."

How often, when a friend asks what we want to do, do we respond, "I don't care"? It's a means of dodging decision-making; we don't want to be held responsible when our decisions don't result in the most fun-filled, life-changing hours of our friends' lives. We think we're just indecisive, but to convey our indecisiveness we use a position of indifference. This indifference robs us, not only of opportunity but also joy. Since moving to Milwaukee, I've been saying "I don't care" quite a lot.

This is my move towards living a less apathetic life. Pictured here is my Apathy Jar; from now until the end of March, every time I say something in the vein of "I don't care" I will put a dollar in this jar.

At the end of March, I will use this money to buy gifts for people I care about. For every $10 in the jar, I will write a letter to someone I haven't been in touch with for a while. So for all the dollars that must represent my apathy, these acts of care must follow.

From a Young Teacher

2011-02-19T12:15:00.001-06:00

To every teacher,

You are a parent, bodyguard, disciplinarian, and magician all in one. Your job is to guide the dreams of others safely through the spokes of reality.

The school I teach at has not had art education (or music or gym, for that matter) in seven years. The classroom I teach in is a hot mess, buried in unwanted furniture, boxes, and books pushed out of other classrooms inundated by their own hot messes. The shelves of my classroom held piles of dusty, old books when I first arrived; I found many of my old favorites with their covers and pages defaced in their years of neglect. I organized these as best as I could. It took me a month to get a key to the storage lockers in my room (when I finally asked the janitor for one), where I found little, hot messes of old supplies bursting behind the doors. I threw out whole buckets of spoiled glue bottles, rearranged stacks and stacks of art and music textbooks so brilliantly brand new their covers had never even been cracked open, before finally feeling exasperated because no matter how much I cleaned nothing ever seemed to have anywhere to go.

This week, I had the rare opportunity of spending a whole hour cleaning my classroom. I decided to tackle one locker, removing all of its contents and cleaning the interior before sorting through the supplies. I'm maybe 2/3 of the way through organizing that locker, but here is a view of some of my progress:

This is just a portion of the paint bottles I found; in total, I counted 112 good bottles of paint (mostly unopened, 50 bottles of black paint alone) and threw out 15. This doesn't count the paint that I've used or the other bad bottles that I've thrown out since I started teaching.

The locker with half its contents emptied:

There was no system in the organization of these supplies. I sorted out my hundreds of paint bottles alongside random printmaking brayers, 20 unopened bottles of block printing ink, an additional box full of hodgepodge printmaking supplies, a bucket of paintbrushes, a box of paintbrushes, a pile of both metal and wooden rulers, a bag of pinecones, two unopened rolls of Japanese textiles, three large containers of liquid starch, three bottles of food coloring, various buckets, oil pastels, watercolor crayons, glue bottles that weren't closed after their last use seven years ago, and a camera tripod.

It seemed briefly to me when I first opened these lockers that I had found a treasure trove, especially since pilot art programs in struggling school districts tend not to have glorious budgets. I quickly realized that not only did I not know what I had, no one else in the school knew, either. For seven years this art room was a communal dumping ground, and underneath the layers of unwanted stuff was everything that education had been missing.

How is it that knowledge can starve amidst a wealth like this? Why is it that most of the students I teach have gone their entire lives until now not knowing that mixing blue and yellow makes green, or that mixing any colors at all was even possible? In some sense I imagine that the original art program crashed around the time that its inventory grew so immense. It was education that lived not by the philosophy of buying as needed but buying to prove it still existed. We live in a culture where the amount of our consumption proves our worth. But when the rest of society can't afford to support our habits anymore, everything we've hoarded spoils.

This isn't just about art supplies. The contents pictured here are those of just one of many lockers in one of many classrooms in one of many schools in one of many districts in one of many organizations.

This isn't even a current problem. Everything pictured here dates from before seven years ago; the current problems we see are the consequences of a system that broke before we entered it.

This is what poverty looks like. It is not dearth but disuse, a rainbow of possibility in front of a colorblind audience. It is like we're trying to end hunger by making a mountain of gelatin without giving spoons to the hungry or even teaching them how to use their hands. Now, as I try to revive usefulness again, I feel like I'm constantly sending everyone I come in contact with on a sugar high that will end in an inevitable crash, child and adult alike. Yet I still need to believe in teaching.

Worth reading: Letters to a Young Artist

Worth watching:

The Challenge...to Finish Everything

2011-02-15T06:12:00.002-06:00

New this week:

This is just the beginning.

Here is my current to-do list from now until my birthday in 2012. So far, so good.

~~build a new website~~
~~design a new business card to match~~
~~make pickle cupcakes~~
finish a suite of woodcuts
sew something amazing
design an affordable, user-friendly website template for artists and an instruction set to teach artists basic HTML to maintain their sites
write a novel
have a solo show
~~enter a culinary competition~~
visit the Northwest coast
~~visit the Northeast coast~~

The challenge: get everything on this list done by January 20, 2012. Simple goals.