Inkhorns Are Not for Writing

It's a well known fact that English, which has one of the largest vocabularies of any language, is complicated and difficult to master. Supposedly, your average college grad has a vocab of approximatley 20,000 words. It's impossible to factually state the amount of words in the English language, but I'm sure it numbers in the 100,000's. Every time I check my e- mail, I see proof of the fact that perhaps we could pare the list down a bit. The word of the day on my homepage is usually something only a professional scrabble player or Frasier Crane would need. Speaking of Frasier, the other day I learned he was an inkhorn; ostentatiously learned. If he was looking for romance he might ask his date if she cared to osculate. ( hey, get that mind out of the gutter..)It means the touching of one curve to another, or kissing. Frasier Crane might be too high and mighty to use hypocorism on his new girl. Most of us average intellects are loathe to admit that we have been guilty of it at one time when we nauseatingly called our new love honeybunny or mookie. Maybe you've guessed that hypocorism is the use of baby talk. I really can't think of any occasion where I would use most "words of the day" from Dictionary.com. though it's a fun and diverting (got that from theosaurus.com) place to browse. I, the artist, picked up this quote there. I don't know if I totally agree with it, but it makes a darn good excuse for my crappy vocabulary.
"I have always suspected that too much knowledge is a dangerous thing. It is a boon to people who don't have deep feelings; their pleasure comes from what they know about things, and their pride from showing off what they know. But this only emphasizes the difference between the artist and the scholar."

This illustration was done using an ink bottle,not an inkhorn, a croquil pen and the technique of stippling(a technique involving shading through the use of small dots) over watercolor. Excuse the nudity..it's from my student days!

Once a Jew, Always a Jew?

Lately I've been thinking about what being Jewish (gasp!) means to me. Am I Jewish, agnostic, atheist, Wiccan?? Don't get nervous...that last one was a joke...not that I mean to be insensitive to all you Wiccans out there. I guess I do have something in common with them. I always tell people that my temple or church or place of worship, where I find peace, is probably in the woods, although you won't find me naked dancing around a fire. OK, I may have danced around the campfire a few times, but I was definitely clothed from head to toe to avoid mosquito and black-fly bites. I still consider myself Jewish although I don't belong to a temple and I only celebrate the holidays for the food and family. I just don't care for the weird ceremony and fake holiness of organized religion. For me,being a Jew is more of an identity that you can never shake. I've got the Jewish sense of humor and the worship of the Arts. Could my lack of interest in traditional Judaism go back to my childhood?? My brother had a fairly lavish bar mitzvah. The girls were forced to attend Sunday school but we never got the party!. Don't worry Mom and Dad. I know that's just the way the world was back then and I don't blame you. ( for that anyway!!) Ha-ha, always with the jokes. The world back then did not hold much space for the ethnic beauty and diversity we appreciate today. The ideal was white, blue -eyed and blonde haired. OK, I am white, blue- eyed and sort of blond, but looking at me, you would know I am not a WASP. I take that back. I guess I did fool a few people over the years, especially after I married and acquired the ultra Waspy last name of Adams. Unfortunately, that has led to many a Jew put down in my presence. Later, laying in bed and seething, I thought of many a catchy come-back to my so-called friends' slurs and stereotypical put-downs. My husband wants to know why the thousands of anti-Semitic websites and anti-Semitic politicians do not get more (negative) press. Why don't I care, he asks. Well, of course it upsets me. But let's face it. After thousands of years of persecution, hatred, and exodus, you get used to it! Sadly, I guess mankind will always come up with something to fight about, but religion has always been a biggie. Organized religion, while soooo very great for some, is not the way I choose to teach the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. As the late great John Lennon said "Whatever gets you through the night, it's alright, it's alright". So although I still burn the pretty, pretty menorah at Hanukkah,Channukah or is it Chanukah, and stuff my face with potato latkes, you won't find me at temple on Friday night.
Still, I didn't find it the least bit difficult to illustrate a book called "The First Gift". It was a sweet Christmas story about a boy, a dog and the meaning of love, and comes with an incredible musical score. I enjoyed working with the highly talented author/ composer and had fun painting Baby Jesus and a bunch of angels. The above illus. is part of the cover art.

Ahhhh...The sea in Seattle

The "sea" in Seattle is quite fitting because there is water everywhere around the city...salty, fresh, brackish, you name it, they got it. Our family's recent vacation trip started off at Sea-Tac airport on a bittersweet note. My husband's sister was to meet us at the airport. They had not seen each other in 13 years. He didn't recognize her at first., but our daughter insisted that a grey haired woman sitting by the baggage carousel was her, and she was right. We were all alot older!! Fish always tastes best when eaten in sight of seagulls and sunset over the bay, and the first night's feast was no exception. The second day we headed for a local park where we tried hard to memorize the names of the new and old family members who came out to welcome us. Day three, we headed up to the San Juan islands for whale watching. We took a ferry from Anacortes to Friday Harbor to catch a small boat and hopefully view the orcas at play. I panicked at the last minute and ran up 3 steep blocks into town to the local general store. I wanted to purchase Dramamine for seasickness and almost missed the boat. I had read 1 too many horror stories of mass vomiting on the online reviews. Note to self...stay away from reviews..remember, happy satisfied customers rarely take the time to post. Anyway, the trip was fabulous and barf free. The whales frolicked freely and the captain said it was one of the best trips ever. Once on dry land we headed for the ice creme shop which had about 86 delicious flavors. Wish we could of spent more time in Friday Harbor but we had to catch the ferry back along with all the other tourists. On Tuesday I looked up an old friend from Oregon College of Art. We had moved to NY together to attend the illustrious Art Students League. She had recently married and moved to a sweet little bungalow high up on a hill in the "green city". We fortified ourselves with breakfast at a "swedish" themed place. The pancakes were piled high with raspberries, blueberries and loganberries. The bacon was thick and Canadian style. Next we all headed south to Tacoma to visit the Glass Museum. I especially hoped to view the work of Dale Chihuly, a world famous glass artist. We walked across the "bridge of glass" where the walls and ceiling were filled with at least 50 0f his creations. Inside we witnessed 2 artists in a tall metal cone shaped studio demonstrating their technique. One of the most interesting galleries was the one where the glass artists took drawings by children and interpreted them in blown glass. The results were wonderful and probably knocked the high and mighty artists and critics down a notch or two off their lofty intellectual peaks. The stuff in the gift shop was outrageously beautiful and outrageouly priced, but Laurel managed to snag a (blown glass) slug for a friend. Seattle is the home of Starbucks and there are coffee-shops on every corner, so we headed off for some serious coffee before parting ways. Next stop was our simple motel in Tacoma to rest up before our trip to Mt. Rainier the next day. One of the few things I didn't like about the area was the insane urban sprawl in the areas outside the city of Seattle. It was the wild wild west all over again. But can a Mexican food lover like me really complain about 5 brands of Mexi fast food within 2 miles? We settled on a Vietnamese Pho place for a delicious and cheap dinner. The Asian influence is everywhere and you especially see it in the architecture. They aren't stuck in the past with sad imitations of our colonial bsckgound as you see in the east. Alot of the buildings are a pleasing mix of Asian and a warm and friendly modern style which I found refreshing. Anyway, the weather was clear the next day and we almost drove off the mountain road more than once on our way up to the Paradise side of the Mt. Rainier National Park. Sadly, we only had a day there, so we took a short hike to some lakes snapping away like crazy people with our brand new camera. The first place we stopped once outside the park had some tacky souvenirs and some sad looking pie, but down the road we hit pay dirt. Home made raspberry cobbler and blackberry pie with some more of that great brew. Another night at the motel and then off to eat dim sum in Seattle's Chinatown. A little shopping there and then we moved on to the infamous historic Pike Place Market. I had forgotten how cool the place was. There were some amusing street performers. One in particular involving a few enormous hula hoops, a harmonica, and the balancing of a guitar on the guys chin. Really. From the market we went back to Charlie's sister for a little rest up. Laurel had been craving the tasty Dungeness crab since his sisters last visit when she showed up at our place with a bunch of the stuff, so we soon left for some serious seafood eatin at the Crab Pot..on the water of course. They covered our outdoor table with butcher paper and threw down a mess o seafood... Corn, sausage, Alaskan crab, Dungeness, mussels,red potatos, clams, shrimp. and the best ever sourdough bread...nothing was safe from our tiny forks and hammers. For once we were too full for dessert. The last full day we made our way to the aquarium to be awed and amazed by the colorful and weird creatures. I can now cross "petting a starfish" off my bucket list. Illegally crouching behind a bunch of children, I was a few feet away from the color- changing octopus at mealtime. Sadly, things went downhill on the way home. We were seated on the 5 hour flight in the last row by the bathroom. Everyone on the flight "went" at least twice, slamming the door as they left. I couldn't turn my little overhead air nozzle quite high enough to cover the fact that it was "number 2 " again! Panic at the long term parking lot when we couldn't find the ticket, only to eventually realize that the credit card we had inserted 8 days previous told them everything they wanted to know about us. We re-inserted it, it spit out our receipt and we were on our way home.
Although Seattle's not really rainy in the summer, I'm adding my illustration entitled "Raining Cats and Dogs".

The cool moist night air of my country road, with only the sound of the crickets chirping, is a perfect ending to a crazy day in the city. In the hot daylight hours, I'm delighted by my rural lane's colorful succession of weeds and wildflowers. Although they may be invasive, I love the heavy perfume of the wild thorny roses. Today's drive down my tar and gravel road in the 80 degree weather inspired this Japanese style haiku ...
Wheels roll over tar.
Pop, pop, pop like bubble wrap
The road is melting.
Robert Frost, when speaking of roads said, "I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference." Although some say this poem is about regret, others interpret it as an ode to individualism and non- conformity. These are traits which most artists hold near and dear. After all, great art is not only about technique..I find that boring. Great art must also express that which is unique to you. Wow, there must be a catchphrase in there involving technique and unique..as I'm laying in bed tonight with the windows wide open I'll mull that one over.

Monkey Arrested for Mayhem

As I've stated before, one of my non-art jobs is as a one on one to an autistic 6 year old child in a special ed classroom. We've been on a Curious George marathon this week in preparation for a special event at a bookstore. Everyone is familiar with little mischief makin monkey George and his caretaker, the man in the yellow hat. The man consistently leaves George on his own somewhere and chaos ensues. But in the end, all is forgiven. Why, my fellow employees and I ask, has the man in the yellow hat never been brought before child protective services or maybe the ASPCA? Or perhaps the Food and Game Adminis. for illegal possession and smuggling of a wild animal into the country. Of course, for the same reason that Jack of beanstalk fame was not arrested for stealing, and the Emperor was not charged with public nudity. You've got to forgive us. There are 35 books in the series and we read at least half of them. He's cute but not that cute!! I found much worse while doing my online research on the authors H.A. and Margaret Rey... a parody where "the man" takes George into a pawnshop. George picks up a weapon, stabs the man, and ends up in jail (again) for murder. You've probably heard about how the illustrator/author couple H.A. and Margaret Rey , originally Germans, met and married while living in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. I guess that's where they first got acquainted with monkeys..They moved to Paris after honeymooning there..not a bad life so far. They fled on bicycles the morning of June 13, 1940 , as the Germans entered the city, taking only some clothing and their manuscripts and sketches. Have you ever fantasized about what you would grab if you had to leave in a hurry. Thank goodness for flash drives...Eventually they ended up in that hipster haven, Greenwich Village, NYC. Margaret lived until 90, donating millions to charity in her final hometown, Cambridge, Boston. Oddly enough, she taught creative writing at Brandeis Univ., the school my own little mischief maker is attending now. Although she studied painting and photography at the famous Bauhaus school in Germany, she ended doing the writing and her husband did the pics...just goes to show that kids don't really care about fantastic and sophisticated illustrations. A good story that has that something special is a hard thing to teach. But even in this age of commercial and mass produced licensed characters, I hope a good tale can still make it's way to the surface! (illustration at top was only one of mine I could find that vaguely fit the post..imagine the bunny gone bad..maybe he met George in juvie..hope they were both rehabilatated.)

Now that Spring is finally here, I've been taking coffee breaks in my favorite location, the great outdoors. I grew up in the suburbs not too far from NYC, but I'm a country girl at heart. It's easier on us starving artists here..less temptations for spending money, although now that there's online shopping, I guess that doesn't hold quite so true. Yesterday, I finished my Trader Joe's Dark Sumatra and ran around with a bottle of ink and a sketch book, hoping one of my 2 cats would hold still for a quick line brush painting. They weren't very cooperative. I hope to tune up my gesture drawing skills this summer. I used to be quite good at those in the old days when I was studying at Art Students League. Figure drawing class was on of my favorites..but I digress..As I sipped my coffee I was lucky to spy a pileated woodpecker across the river doing some serious damage to a tree (think Woody Woodpecker, cartoon big, with a dramatic thatch of red on top of the head) It sounded like someone was pounding a nail into wood after drinking 25 cans of Red Bull. I mentally started making a list of some of the sounds, good and bad, which I've experienced in my little hideaway in the woods. Here's what I've come up with so far,...owls maniacally hooting in the dark of night, screeching hawks riding the currents overhead, peeper frogs in the muck across the river, ciciadas in the heat of summer, startled ducks quacking(yeah, they really do),the river ice breaking up in the spring, a hummingbird buzzing in your ear, ATVs and dirt-bikes, chain saws, unidentified animals squealing in the middle of the night, endlessly barking dogs, rifles being sighted, and last but not least, my favorite "sound" of all....silence.

Pippi, Piggle Wiggle and the Witch Family

What were your favorite chapter books as a child? My hero when I was growing up was the original cool red-head, Pippi Longstocking. Her dad was out at sea. He had left her at the Villa Villekulla with a chest full of gold, a monkey and a horse. She made her own rules and had incredible adventures with the traditional kids next store...Tommy and Annika. And then there were those three miniature drifters; Pod, the dad, Homily, the mom, and their daughter Arriety; the stars of the "Borrowers" series. The tiny Victorian family made clever use of all sorts of discarded human objects. You could call them the original recyclers! They traveled afield, aloft and a- float, adapting to many perilous situations and harrowing close calls. Way before he was discovered by Hollywood, I also had "Stuart Little", that dignified and confident little mouse. I never questioned the fact that his parents were human. The end of his story was not tied up with a neat little bow. Stuart bravely set out in search of his beloved friend, the bird, Margalo. "As he peered ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction." Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle was another great read. The magical old lady was once married to a pirate. Perhaps it was Pippi's father. The illustrations by Hilary Knight, who also did the fantastic "Eloise", are full of life. In fact, the pen and ink illustrations by Edward Ardizzone were what drew me to "The Witch Family" by Eleanor Estes. Upon scanning through the facts for this post, I learned that Ms. Estes is said to have begun her writing career while bedridden with tuberculosis. Pippi L. was created by Astrid Lindgren to entertain her daughter who was recovering from pneumonia. Many a great writer and artist has started their journeys of the imagination while bedridden. Still, I'm wishing good health to all my followers, with a healthy dose of magic and rule breaking thrown in for the artist in you.