portraits of women i know

Women friends are very important to me. These portraits are mostly of local ladies who’ve come into my life in the past 5.5 years, with the exception of “Phoebe” who is my sister and has always been my best friend. Each of these women is beautiful and does important work for their community. Each of them is an artist (with food, animals, the land, plants, homemade beauty products, pottery, sewing, books, printing, photography, movies, drawing, painting, dancing, love, life). Each of them has touched my heart. Each of them inspires me. Each of them sat in front of me and let me look at them and translate what I saw onto paper.

(click on each image to see it larger.)

I’ll hopefully be exhibiting these somewhere at some point in the fall or winter.

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throwing up

18 throwing up

At the beginning of my pregnancy, I didn’t have much nausea and didn’t vomit at all. As I approached the end of the first trimester however, “morning” sickness suddenly kicked in. Every car ride no matter how short, many nights before bed or in the middle of the night, in the morning if I don’t eat right away, the very thought or smell of spinach…..my stomach lurches and I think, uh oh, here it comes. I run to the toilet, kneel down, and settle in for a terrible few minutes. I do anything I can to prevent it. But sometimes I just know it’s coming and won’t be stopped.

My funniest throw up story is from a weekend in Burlington visiting my dear pal Jory. The long winding drive and rich Italian food had caught up with me as we lay in bed together, her already fast asleep, and me sweating with the knowledge that everything in my stomach was about to come back up. I creeped quietly to the bathroom, which one of her roommates was already occupying. I stood outside the door in pitch blackness, hand over my mouth, contemplating my back up plan of the kitchen sink. Finally, the roommate, whom I had not yet met, came out and I blurted, “Hi!” before running in, pulling the door shut, and throwing myself onto the floor in front of the toilet.

march 10th and mood indigo

My friend Janet and I went to see Mood Indigo in New York City on Monday night, as part of the Rendezvous with French Cinema at the IFC Center and we got to meet Michel Gondry afterwards!

michel gondry

It was a magical night as you can probably guess. It was also the 5 year anniversary of my friend Lee’s death. On March 10th I never know what to do with myself. This year, I’m also looking ahead to the one year marking of my mom’s death on April 18th. For Lee I usually drink a Bottingtons, take some time out of the day to mark it, to feel sad and miss him. But there was something about being at the movie that night– maybe it was that the movie deals with grief in a really lovely way, but also just being there, doing something I really wanted to do, something special. Because I’m still here. I’m alive, and doing something I really want to do is taking advantage of being alive.

After the film, my old boss intriduced me to Mr. Gondry, and I was so excited my hands were shaking and I started sweating through my clothes. I had just seen something that touched me so deeply and was so beautiful, and here was the human being who made it! Right there! All I could stammer out was “I loved the movie.” In that moment I couldn’t wrap my mouth around the words I wanted to say. So, Mr. Gondry, if by any chance you are reading this, here is what I wanted to tell you about my experience watching your film:

Last year I was with my mom while she was very sick, and then dying. Your movie expresses this experience in a beautifully visual way: giving an image to the way it felt to go through that. Feeling the walls close in, the house being taken over by a strange clinging, climbing dust that covers the sunshine, the strangeness of doctors and machines and treatments, growing older so quickly, wanting to jump in and change my own story, the world turning to black and white.

I also got to see some friends in the city (to all the friends I did not see, I’m sorry! There’s never enough time to see everyone, I love you and I will see you soon):

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Some of the food I got to eat: 20140309_17183920140310_17435320140310_170013

And here’s my favorite bathroom in Manhattan: 20140310_182402

post – MoCCA

Thanks to everyone who stopped by our table and bought comics! I got to meet some lovely people, make connections, trade comics and just generally have a good exhibiting experience.  Super thanks to Justin and Sophia for hosting us. Special thanks to our table mate Hillary Blair, my buddy across the aisle Jeffrey Lewis, brave chicken Nina Frenkel, and finally John Jennison, the Van Der Jagts, and that little kid in the skull shirt for being my favorite customers.

(and even special-er thanks to Phoebe and Greg for being my people/helpers/support/travel buddies ❤ )

And it was so great to see all my NYC friends!

Some photos from the weekend:

Little sketches I made at MoCCA:

Some stuff I got:

art reception photos

IMG_0334 Last night was the reception for my current art show at Images Cinema. It was a great turn-out, and three pieces are sold so far! My wonderful sister Phoebe took these photos. I think they give a good impression of the night, and have kind of liveliness to them.

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guitar drawing

January 2011 was a strange time for me. In between (in many ways), struggling with difficult emotions and dark places within myself. So I picked up the guitar gathering dust in the basement– the one I’d bought for $10 from our neighbor and decided to learn on ten years ago and never made it past the “what are chords?” point– and I just did it.

I looked up tuning on the internet, then searched chords, formed them with my fingers, and played them. I slowly learned a few and played them one after the other. I looked up songs online that sounded easy enough and were interesting to me and learned to play them. I practiced every day, and still do for the most part.

Teaching myself a new skill, learning a new language, a new way of expressing, communicating and even feeling was the exact thing I needed. Feeling my way through a song is something I have always wanted to do, even if I didn’t know it consciously. I’ve dated a few musicians in my time, and being close to music was always a thrill, a craving. It never really seemed like something I could actually do myself. But I can.

The guitar in this drawing is one a very good friend is letting me borrow. It has a distinctly better sound than my old Vasquez (bless her warped neck) and feels delicious to play.

 

foggy memories

Hey guys, I want to share a really cool/sweet/childhood illustrated story that my friend Sara Lautman had published on The Hairpin, called Foggy Memories.

Lots of good stuff here about memory and how we remember things and our perspectives as children. Plus I ❤ her drawing style. Might be makin’ some childhood memory comics inspired by this. Thanks Sara!