H2O | Reapa.

H2O is one of my favorite taggers to spot, and they seem to be popping up all over the place lately. Have I ever mentioned that I am obsessed with street art? Graffiti? Whatever you want to call it, I just love it and I love starting to recognize the work of certain individuals around town.

I love imagining how they pick their spot, choose their paint, carry materials to the destination. What time of day is it? How fast do these things go up? Are they working alone or with a group? How do they get up there? Over there? I love seeing a really detailed train car, and I love how they suddenly appear along the expressway randomly one morning and are just as quickly painted over with beige paint by some city worker. So quickly, usually, that I have no chance to snap a picture of them. Then it always makes me a little depressed that all their effort is just erased.

This one has been up (on the Ohio feeder ramp) for a couple of days now and the traffic was so terrible this morning I was actually able to grab it with my cell phone. This pic is crappy but click here to see more work by H2O/Reapa. It's so bright and detailed. I hate it that there's not more information out there about these people, but perhaps that's why it's so fascinating to me too.

This Gaper's Block article (from 2007) tends to come up when I do a search. If you find any of this interesting at all, something else you might like is this Chicago Street Art Flickr Group, or this blog.

If you want to take it a step further, and see a really crazy documentary on/by the UK's Banksy and this really random "film maker", rent Exit Through the Gift Shop.

Invisible by Paul Auster

On Saturday, I woke up at 7 am and started this book. I took my first of three naps around 10 am. I spent the entire day just reading and napping, until I finished it at about 7 pm.

I don't know if I've ever read a 300-page book in one day. I decided to make finishing it Saturday my goal – er, excuse for doing nothing but reading and napping all day. When that wasn't enough I just told myself I HAD to finish it for Book Club.

I have never read Paul Auster before, but I think I'm going to have to read another one. Or, as the NYT review states in the first sentence, just go ahead and read this one again. My review: Huh. Or maybe, Double Huh.

Oh, Joy!

My best friends brought a little boy into the world today. Theodore Bradford, "Teddy", was born at 6:42 this morning. Seven pounds of perfect. I'm in love.

Photo via Even Cleveland. Source Unknown.

It happens every year.

But it's still a shock. Snow?! And 12 days before May? Rude.

Photo courtesy of Mary Bradbury.

Always sorta wanted one of these...

Every once in a while I take a look at these Tonke Campers. Just for fun. Aren't they cool? I love the woodwork and the colors. They kind of remind me of a sailboat we had growing up that never really got used and just sat looking perfect and pretty in the garage.

I think I would find an excuse to use this.

If you're lucky enough to have a house on a lake – you're lucky enough.

Even if it's just for a week. We got the place! I'm so excited I find myself daydreaming about it constantly. I can't believe I get to do this every day for an entire week. Joy!

Linoleum Block Prints.

Working my way through my 2011 "goals" list, I finally ordered some linoleum blocks, tools and paints. They arrived on my doorstep and I unpacked them excitedly and then they sat on the dining room table for a couple weeks. I couldn't figure out what to carve into the block? It felt so permanent and as if it needed to really be something I'd want to make a zillion prints of and I couldn't settle on anything. Then I reminded myself that the blocks are only about $2 and I'd probably screw it up anyway, so I bit the bullet.

Copying a saying from some prints I'd seen on Etsy seemed like a good idea even though I knew it was totally cheating to not come up with my own original concept. I printed out a template, reversing it and everything, but then I couldn't figure out why I was reversing it so I righted it again and started to carve away. I had been disappointed when I removed the cellophane that the old smell didn't hit me, but thankfully it came out strong, just how I remembered, once I started cutting. Oh I love that smell!

Anyway then Katy stopped by and said, Um, you're doing that backwards. And I said, Crap! and gave up for the day. The next morning I realized I could save the ruined block and fall back on my original idea: A Moose. (A friend of mine recently asked if I would do a blue moose for her kids room).

So these came out really bad, but I'm happy to report I made a dent in my list and had a lot fun doing this exercise. Well, I loved the carving and the anticipation and the SMELL – just not the result so much. And now that I've gotten my feet wet with this, and kind of remembered the limitations and stuff, I need to come up with something original to make prints of and start a new one.

MoMA - Motherwell.

Elegy to the Spanish Republic – 108, 1965-67

"Motherwell described his Elegies to the Spanish Republic series as a 'lamentation or funeral song' for what was lost in the Spanish Civil War of the late 1930s. 'It seemed to me that something beautiful and marvelous had died, at least temporarily, in that conflict,' he said. All the works share a visual motif: black ovals wedged between black rectangles. The compose the central chapter in the artist's career; between 1947 and 1968 Motherwell created more than 100 works in the series."

The Little Spanish Prison, 1941-44

Personage, with Yellow Ochre and White, 1947

"The thick, encrusted surface of Personage reveals that Motherwell created it through countless applications of thick paint. Describing his working process during this period, the artist wrote, 'I begin painting with a series of mistakes. The painting comes out of the correction of mistakes by feeling. I begin with shapes and colors, which are not related internally nor to the external world; I work without images.'"

I really enjoy Robert Motherwell (American, 1915-1991), and especially that description above. Exactly.

NYC Trip - My Dear Liz

Friends, it makes me crazy I don't document what I see when I am with this artist. It is literally a physical internal struggle I have within myself the whole time I'm having the experience. The truth is, I can't diminish what's happening before me by trying to document it. And while I'm struggling with a conscious need to grab my camera, my desire to be and stay in the moment ultimately wins.

This last trip to NYC, Ruth and I met Liz for brunch. When she invited us up to her apartment afterward, we about died it was just a few doors away, and then we sat gasping as she spread out her incredible quilts across her bed, starting with smaller "baby" blankets and broadening to this incredible "He/She" sided Wedding masterpiece.

I do not use the word 'masterpiece' lightly. The "She" was entirely white, however, on closer inspection was comprised of the most subtlety decorated white fabrics, one after the other more detailed beauty.

I almost literally had a heart attack when she just casually sat down on the top layer later. Had I done the same thing, peanut butter, or subway soot, or some other indiscretion would have undoubtedly ended up smeared across it. But to be welcomed into such an environment and to see such things... I am sorry I can't show you. And I'm more sorry I have nothing but my own memories to call it to mind myself. That was my conscious decision at the time. To not show you, or me later. I love just remembering a great afternoon, and two dear friends who shared it with me.

"Diagraming a Fold x9" drawing and "Red and Orange Docks and Ladders" by Liz Jaff.

MoMA - Picasso.

Les Demoiselies d'Avignon, 1907

"The result of months of preparation and revisions, the painting revolutionized the art world when first seen in Picasso's studio. Its monumental size underscored the shocking incoherence resulting from the outright sabotage of conventional representation. Picasso drew on sources as diverse as Iberian sculpture, African tribal masks, and El Greco's painting to make this startling composition. In the preparatory studies, the figure at the left was a medical student entering a brothel. Picasso, wanting to anecdotal detail to interfere with the sheer impact of the work, decided to eliminate it in the final painting. The only remaining allusion to the brothel lies in the title: Avignon was a street in Barcelona famed for its brothel."

This was a gasper for me. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before, but then it shows up surprisingly, and wakes me up inside.

NYC Trip – MoMA.

Even though I literally gasped many times when I turned a corner and was front and center with the real thing, paintings I'd only seen in my art history books, this is what struck me most on my first visit to the Museum of Modern Art: A class of about 12 6-year-olds sat in front of this enormous Pollack painting, and enthusiastically raised their hands, eager to give their take on what was happening on the canvas. It was as beautiful to me as the art itself.

NYC Friday Night.

The Red Cat. This little vestibule was filled with glowing candles, yellow forsythia, red lilies, a basket full of green apples, white hyacinth, and tulips that were yet to bloom. So pretty.

Awesome atmosphere. Great food. We feasted on Crispy Asparagus in phyllo pastry and roast tomato-sherry vinaigrette, Seared Diver Scallops with spring mushroom hash and green garlic puree, Grilled Pork Loin with white beans and spinach, Eggplant Parmesan with garlic fettucini, and got a complimentary order of Tempura Green Beans with spicy mustard sauce because our service was so slow. Delish!

Afterward we walked up to the Hotel Chelsea so I could get a peak inside. It was nothing like I'd imagined, but filled with beautiful artwork. It would have been nice to see during the day to get a snap of the balconies, which looked so neat lining the facade.


Even though this wasn't what it looked like in the 70's, it was still fun to imagine Patti Smith hanging out writing in the lobby while Bob Dylan or Jimi Hendrix walked on by.

Oh... New York, New York!

My weekend in New York is approaching quickly! Ruth and I have come up with quite an agenda, but we've agreed to let the weekend play itself out a bit naturally too. Here are a few things I'm looking forward to:

MoMA!

Very excited to see "Abstract Expressionist New York". I've never been to this museum either and I can't wait to check it out. I've probably mentioned it before, but art museums can be a little overwhelming for me. I tend to have sensory overload after about an hour or two. I prefer to browse quickly, and stop and really spend time with just a few pieces that catch my eye.

A visit to the Hotel Chelsea.

After reading Just Kids, I decided I just want to go sit in the lobby for a minute. I think it's completely renovated or something, but I don't care. I feel like you'd still be able to soak up some of the spirit of the artists, writers and musicians who lived there at one time or another. And check out these amazing rooms? Geez! We'll walk around and pop into some of the Chelsea galleries, too.

Brunch at Balthazar.

I'm not going to lie. Ruth and I like to spend a lot of time planning our meals. Brunches and dinners make a perfect day of eating out if you ask me. Yes, I've already looked at the menu. Yes, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm going to order.

And, I get to cross one off The List.

Drawing by James Guilliver Hancock.

They will be missed.

I was so sad to hear of the passing of both Julia and Chett, but also find the timing of their departure together (at 91) quite beautiful. While we didn't have a whole lot of interaction in my grown adult life, my childhood encounters are so memorable to me. Over the past week I've literally been able to recall the tone of both voices. Perfectly. But especially Julia's raspy southern sound.

I picture her sipping a coke with lemon, in a to-go cup always (at 8am! Where did she get it??) drawing on it through a straw into immaculately painted red lips. She was SO GLAMOROUS! I would hide in her closets, filled with pretty flowing clothes, and leave notes to her in her shoes.

Chett, always so mild-mannered, would shyly ask me about this and that. His calm presence making me feel I belonged in this strange world. I remember he had a secretary named Silvia, which to an 8-year old was about the most beautiful name I had ever heard. Like silver! How I wish I could visit his office again, and see the reality of what I remember – or not. I loved stopping in there and looking at everything, dusty papers and files everywhere.

They had a brilliant blue marlin hanging on the staircase that I just could NOT comprehend, and I found it so funny they had to "open" sections of the house to us when we visited. After a LONG, 7-hour drive for a kid, the driveway to the house when we finally got there seemed ENDLESS; their home, a treasure trove of things to discover. We had a fire in the fireplace EVERY NIGHT, and I wasn't allowed to TOUCH ANYTHING. I learned later that it was because the place was filled with beautiful antiques, and things that were forbidden were not due to Chett and Julia's rules or fears, but more likely my own terrified parents fearing I would break something they would never be able to replace. I remember to this day the scent of their home. Musky, fireplace, cigarette smell. Dogs. And we weren't allowed to go outside alone, we might fall off a cliff. But we could safely watch and identify birds landing on feeders thru the picture windows that surrounded the living room.

The ranch, where they kept and rode horses, would have been the first time I rode one. I remember a spotted mare named Lisa, who's mane was braided in a hundred small braids, and a St. Bernard named Moon. And we'd go out to dinner in town, and everyone knew Chett and Judy. This I thought was very cool, not quite grasping small town familiarity, but more remarkably because of who they were, so prevalent in the community. These are things a little kid doesn't pick up on, but of COURSE everyone knew them.

At their house I learned for the first time to *SNAP*, to shuffle a deck of cards, and to make pretty patterns on ordinary paper kitchen napkins using food coloring. I always felt ridiculously welcome there... and now realize what it meant for them to open their doors to children (my brother and I) and make us feel so at home. In one long weekend, endless I'm sure for the adults, I learned every word to Crystal Gayle's "Dont it Make My Brown Eyes Blue", played on a record player over and over, which at the time I believed was genuinely a tribute to my brother's and my own eye color.

These people were incredibly influential to my Mother, and for their influence in her life I am truly grateful. I know they opened doors for her and exposed her to many things, and were also incredibly generous. I am so glad I was present for their 50th wedding anniversary. They will be missed but it's so nice they lived and died together.

To view the memorial service, click here. It's really something. I remember both of those portraits from their home.

It's Green!

And growing! In my yard! Yahoo.

March Madness ~ Irish Badness.

I didn't think it was possible to out-do last year's perfection. Then I got this in the mail.

Just Kids.

I just finished the book Just Kids by Patti Smith. I loved it.

I love biographies, and autobiographies even more, but either one about an artist is for sure my favorite. This was like an autobiography and biography about TWO artists - Jackpot! I had always known there was a special relationship between Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, but to get to read about what was happening behind the scenes as they emerged together as artists was truly a gift.

In the summer of '92 I saw an extensive exhibit of Mapplethorpe in Japan. One of my souvenirs from the trip was the museum catalog of the show, a thick, beautiful book illustrated in both English and Japanese. I was only generally familiar with him and his work at the time – photographer, gay, "risky" imagery – and I remember loving the images of Patti the most as I flipped through the pages. I never forgot that blank stare looking right back at you. (Him).

What was especially exciting in reading her description of their story was getting details and discovering the relationship behind these easily recognizable portraits. At the time I was looking and learning about Mapplethorpe, they were both already famous and he had been dead for a couple of years. What a treat to read about their individual explorations and the journey they were on together as they worked so hard to achieve success as artists in multiple mediums, before eventually discovering their own strong voices – and then the acknowledgement for each that followed.

This book made me think of the "artist" from a different perspective. She was not simply a musician, nor he "just" a photographer. But rather they pursued artistic expressions on all levels, drawing, painting, styling, writing, building, making, collecting. I really like that we don't have to be limited to the development of one art form, that creating is creating, and that the word "artist" means so many different things.

I got all these images off a Google Images search. I'm going to go ahead and credit Mapplethorpe for all of them. Not really sure about two though.

Gracie turns 1!

It's Gracie's first birthday today. This morning I played U2's "Grace" a couple times for her and did an impromptu photo shoot.

She's usually pretty hyper in the morning. Actually if she's not sleeping or napping, she is very high-strung and a tense, muscular little cat who does not care to be held, even for a second. In dosing/sleep mode, she turns into a live rag doll and is incredibly affectionate. I'm surprised she's not a Gemini.

Her favorite toys include:

– Q-tips

– The round metal hair-catcher for the drain in the tub

– Grout between the bathroom tiles

– The toilet

– 18" plastic wand with a mini pink boa and bell (actual cat toy)

– Sticks, pencils, pens

– Fishing lures and their sharp hooks

When she runs like grease lightening around the house in circles, she goes so fast she crashes and slides into things she can't spontaneously leap over or around. Some of her other likes include: Parmesan cheese, watching the birds in the backyard, climbing behind the blinds, and toppling over potted plants and rolling around in the dirt on the floor.

Swimming.

It's that time of year again. Where I start to mentally lose it. I can't stand to look at the clothes in my closet, or bear to pull on a heavy wool coat, over layers of thick clothing, while also hiding under restrictive hats and gloves – all suffocating me.


It's fitting that Ruth sent me to Art Interiors, specifically to the artist Elizabeth Lennie. She correctly figured that I would like these swimming, pool and lake pictures. I love the treatment of the water reflections. And I long to put myself within these paintings, outside, free and happy it's summer.

Pretty things and ideas.

I got lost today looking at Christina Weber's blog, especially when I got down to the weavings. They are so pretty. Weaving has a lot of appeal to me. I never really considered it before. I have a feeling it could suck me in the way a jig saw puzzle does. And then when you're done, you have a nice little piece of art to keep instead of just taking it apart and boxing it up.

Christina is also the creator of these amazing tea towels I've had bookmarked to get someone as a gift for months. I never ventured past Studio Patró before. It's funny but the only two links I clicked today in the "friends" list on 2 or 3 Things were the same person and led me back to those beautiful tea towels.

The first thing I reach for.

Those first two weaves are actually the same thing, just different due to age. Both beautiful I think.