GRIZZLY PEAR
Last month, Hurricane Hillary slowly worked its way up from Mexico, prompting warning texts from from NOA. The boy kept asking about when the flood was going to hit. We explained that floods are bad events, but that couldn’t dampen his excitement.
Turned out to be a minor event. We got a little rain on Friday afternoon which led to a massive double rainbow during the golden hour.
We finally got our heavy rains and street flooding a week later — from a storm that had no name.
My rediscovery of fountain pens has resulted in a more purchases. The hedonic treadmill led from cheap flexible nibs to boutique inks and now better paper. Ironically, the photo below shows drawings with decades old ink, but on a fresh Rhodia pad. And yes, it’s a world of difference from the cheap Office Depot steno pads I’ve been using.
Along the way I’ve also discovered Pinterest after being nudged by some folks on Substack. It’s an amazing place for reference imagery (duh!). I had assumed that Instagram would be the place for such a library, but Meta has turned their place into a video service.
Here’s to new (and old) tools, toys, and platforms.
On our way home from San Diego, we checked out the dying outlet mall at Primm. The adjoining casino is trying to revive it by making the cavernous space a huge mural gallery.
There were a couple claw machines at one end of the concourse. After watching Toy Story, they begged to try it out. I told them to not expect anything.
We had one dollar.
We got lucky.
This is a $200 drawing, the most expensive that I’ve made.
Late last year, I started sketching again, drawing the letters of the alphabet in my steno notepad. After drawing the “R” at the top, I tried again on decent paper, splashing an ink wash. It blew my mind that this could come from my hand.
It kept me drawing. Half a year later, I found Ashlyn Antsee’s series on fountain pens and bought a mix of nibs and new inks…and I plan on upgrading from the cheap Office Depot steno pads.
It’s a fuzzy line between art, consumerism, and privilege. I’m grateful that it’s no big deal for us to buy fancy drawing supplies.
I quit drawing twenty years ago because of the anxiety about the fidelity between the image and reality.
I would feel a panic attack in my throat when the image went off script and I knew I wasn’t going to spend the hours to make it perfect.
A few years ago I had accepted the hard fact that I would never draw again, like I will never take the time become literate in Chinese.
Last November, I started sketching again because I wanted to see more drawings on Post and Tara Trudel encouraged us to share our work.
It became a drawing habit by quietly following the 30 day challenge on Wendy MacNaughton’s Substack.
Now I’m drawing cause I enjoy it.
I know I’ve hit the flow when a deep breath exhales from my lungs. These 10 minute hand sketches have become a daily meditation.
They’re not perfect. They’re not even great (look at the all amazing hands on Pinterest!) But they’re mine and I’m an indulgent judge when I’m not worried about what other people might think.
Like my kids, I’ve learned to proudly marvel at the stuff that comes from my own hand. Imperfections and all.
We spent the a day at the New Children’s Museum in San Diego, filled with cool installation pieces. The highlight is Whammock! by Toshiko Horiuchi MacAdam.
Last time we went was before the pandemic, when the boy was 18 months old. He’s now her age then. He took to this piece like a fish in water. Life took a long pause but kept moving regardless.
A few weeks ago, I got into a conversation about zines and d.w. sent me a couple! I printed out the emails with the kids to make the books.
A single sheet of paper, a few folds, one cut, and voila! an eight page book.
The kids delayed dinner so they could color their new zines.
Last week, we got a wooden mannequin at Ikea.
He lay straight in a plastic tube.
The kids called him RIP Mr. Little Wooden Guy.
Mama took him out of the cylindrical coffin.
He’s a stiff little fellow; his hips don’t rotate.
The kids danced with him around the house.
I bought someone to draw.
A figure who wouldn’t run away.
The kids gave him a little headband.
But I wanted someone who can do a full range of poses.
A mannequin who could do the Eight Brocades.
The kids hinted that Mr. Little Wooden Guy would love to have a friend.
The boy’s craft table had a ribbon of markers in holders of toilet paper rolls. Mama glued them together in groups of four and six. It’s a nice modular system that the kids decorated with markers.
The kids created their own “little house” inside the playroom. The fluorescent green circles are teleportation stations between rooms. They debated about making this an amusement park but chose a domestic setting.
I found this odd little installation in the powder room.
If I thought about it longer, maybe I could decipher the message.