Ding Dong

 

I was hoping for a picture of the flying monkey handing Dorothy the witch's broom, signifying the witch is gone and Dorothy can now help Oz heal.

This pictured moment comes just before.

BTW, the witch is saying my favorite line in the film, decrying the end of her "...magnificent wickedness."  And I have to admit when faced with a rainy day I do say, "It's ok, I'm not the wicked witch.  I won't melt." 

But then again, that's not why I made this post.

Happy Halloween

 In keeping with my book-related posts of late, click here

to see this wonderful & fun Jacquie Lawson ecard!

Bookz on the Hood

.

As I was writing my post yesterday I went out to the living room to get my MLA.  In answer to my husband's look I said, there's a bibliography.  "Of course there is," he said with a laugh.

After he read the post he asked if there were links to Amazon if people wanted to buy the books.  No, I borrowed all the books from the library.  The local libraries are linked in a system called CLAMS (librarians' general penchant for acronyms and a bit of Cape Cod humor) short for Cape Libraries Automated Materials Sharing, Inc.  My local library doesn't always have what I want to read, but the system handles requests and moves books around on a daily basis.  Just depends on how many people are in front of me when I request a book.

In my first library job at the BPL I worked in the office that handled interlibrary loans, since then requesting books has always seemed like a no-brainer.

My local library closed in March.  In June they started offering curbside pickup service.  By that time I had over a dozen books requested.  The order of what I got was random.  Other folks were requesting the same books as I was.  Some libraries in the system were filling requests, others not.  When a book came in I got notified.  Pick up was limited to 2 hours, 3 days a week.  We'd park in designated spaces at the library, call them up, tell them our name, what parking space we were in, and the color of our car.  A library staff member would come out with the books in a plastic bag.  She'd place the bag on the hood of our car and leave.  . . books on the hood!  We would then get out of our car, retrieve the bag of books and drive away.  (my husband gets credit for the title of this post, as well as reminding me how good the movie Boyz n the Hood is).

The pick up system has been modified. Now it's 5 days a week, 2 hours each day.  You still call, but now we are the ones walking up the 18 steps and picking the books up on a table with a plexiglass shield.  Safer for the staff and less required exercise for their legs!

I love libraries.  My town library has the lovely name of Brewster Ladies Library because it was founded by a group of women.  Everyone has always been welcome!  It has retained it's quirky name because this is New England and history is important.  BLL History

Summer Reading List

I've been a library geek for longer than I can remember.  My mom tells how at the age of 3 or 4 she would take me to the library and I would sit quietly, listening raptly to stories read by the children's librarian. 

I remember the library at my Elementary school where we could check out 2 books at a time.  My favorite series was biographies of American women.  I read about Dolley Madison, Harriet Tubman, Annie Oakley, Helen Keller,  Eleanor Roosevelt, others.  There must have been men subjects, but they didn't interest 9 year old me.

  

At about 10 I was old enough to ride my bike alone to the local public library and it was one of my favorite outings.  In the summer I'd sign up for the summer reading program.  When I'd finished a book I'd ride over and add that title to my list, which I seem to remember the librarians kept at their desk.  I have a feeling somewhere in my "family treasures" box there's a certificate or two congratulating me on the number of books I read. 

When my grades in high school were not the A's and B's expected of me, my parents removed all the books in my room.  They thought that's what kept me from making good grades.  That wasn't it.  I kept reading what I wanted, I just said it was for school.

After college, when deciding what I'd do with my life, I looked over at my husband and realized he got to play for a living (he's a musician).  Wanting to play at one of my favorite places, I attended library school, became a reference librarian, and worked in college and research libraries for 20 years.

Courtyard between the old and new buildings at the BPL.

This was my first library job.

This year I embarked on a new summer reading program.

Litograph's Face Mask -- Black Literature 

George Floyd's death made me want to educate myself about racism and the Black/African-American experience.  I set out to read memoirs, essays, scholarly texts.  Honestly I don't think I've read this many books with footnotes since college.  It was easy to find reading lists. Not as easy to read the books.  My daughter made quite a few helpful suggestions.  Summer is over.  Unlike when I was in school, I won't get a certificate or even a pat on the back for this summer reading program.  In fact, sharing this endeavor has made a few of my white friends very uncomfortable.  Oh well.  I read for me and I'm glad I did.  I learned a lot, not the least being there's a lot more to learn. 

Here's what I read, in the order I read them.  I highly recommend every one of these books, tho maybe it's no surprise, the ones I connected with the strongest were written by women. 

Coates, Ta-Nihisi.  Between the World and Me. NY: Spiegel & Grau, 2015.

Kendi, Ibram X.  How to Be an Antiracist.  NY: One World, 2019.  

Eddo-Lodge, Reni.  Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race.  London: Bloomsbury Circus, 2017.

Mitchell, Jerry.  Race Against Time: A Reporter Reopens the Unsolved Murder Cases of the Civil Rights Era.  NY: Simon & Schuster, 2020. 

DiAngelo, Robin J.  White Fragility.  Boston: Beacon Press, 2018.

Fleming, Crystal Marie.  How to be Less Stupid About Race.  Boston: Beacon Press, 2018.

Glaude, Eddie S., Jr.  Democracy in Black.  NY: Crown Publishers, 2016.

Stenciling with Seth Apter

Well, he wasn't actually here, but his designs were and  I loved using them!

 I use a traveler's notebook as a catalog for my art supplies.  Instead of putting samples in my catalog, last month I gathered the stencils and dies I have that were designed by Seth Apter and made this page in my art journal.  To get the full scope of this stencil I needed a larger space.  And his designs all work so well together, it was fun to use them to get creative.

I used acrylic paint for the stencils.  Book pages and gel prints from my stash for the die cuts.  The background is spray inks, water based stamp pads, and a generous amount of water spritzed on. 

 Close-ups of mixed media pages

I added my signature handwritten French paper scraps.  

Stickles and Liquid Pearls for  dimension.

This month's StencilClub from Stencil Girl is a mash-up between
Seth Apter & Mary Beth Shaw.

How could I not sign up?

Distress inks in rainbow colors applied thru the stencil

Scribble writing with dip pen & permanent ink.

There was so much juicy color left on the stencil, I spritzed it with water and laid the back side on the adjoining page.  Alone it didn't look like much, specially where the yellow inked images were.  But by scribble writing over the stencil, the light colors stand out and I got to write out some of the things that've been bothering me lately.

Rescuing a Tough Day

Yesterday was a particularly difficult day for me.  Last week I called an out of state friend and shared that I was so sad about the current state of our country.  Her response of "Of course you are, dear," made me feel connected.  At least I wasn't alone.  She shared prayerful thoughts and inspirational things to read.  I felt better for awhile.  However, this week I've felt very alone again.  I've been in what a teacher friend of mine calls an "ugly head space" for months now.

At the end of June I shared with a friend how bad I felt about George Floyd's death.  Over the years she and I've gone out to lunch, talked about a lot of things and I really thought she would say something like, "Of course you do, dear, so do I."   Not her response.  Not even close.

I've been trying to sort this friend's response out ever since.  My sorting out has been very clunky.  It became all about me.  Was I clueless about a friend?  Does it say something about me to have a friend who made racist comments?  If we go out to lunch again, do I say something?  Will I ever want to go out to lunch with her again?

I got a call from my daughter yesterday evening -- at the end of the "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."  I was not giving my usual cheerful responses and finally my daughter said, "What's wrong, mom?"  Over the years we've had loads of conversations about social justice.  She's a very thoughtful young woman, who keeps me on my toes about what's right.  She's taught me a lot and corrected me when I've said thought-less things.  Last night all she was was loving and supportive.  She gently suggested that maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself, and then, working to make me feel better, shared all the things she does or doesn't do when she's feeling sorry for herself.  She shared that when she feels hopeless it's because it doesn't look like things will ever get better.  But, she said, things are getting better, even if there's more to do.  And she reminded me there are things I'm doing to help make the world a better place.  She actually said almost the same things my husband had said earlier in the day.  Somehow coming from her I was finally able to hear them and feel better.

My new mantra is from the Dalai Lama:

"If you think you are too small to make a difference,
try sleeping with a mosquito."

What Do You Want Your Art to Look Like?

Who knew that taking a depth year would mean in-depth time at home, in-depth conversations about health and viruses, in-depth time alone?

The first week of February I went to NYC for a wholesale gift show.  I also viewed art at The Met and MOMA.  Sadly I got the flu while there, so at home I spent the rest of the month inside. . . healing, pondering my life, saying goodbye to an old friendship that no longer suits.  It was quiet and contemplative.

I got so used to staying in, that when Massachusetts issued a stay-at-home order in March, it wasn't a big change to my life, or so I thought.  What didn't register were the weekly things I just did as a matter of course:  Sunday lunch at a local Mexican restaurant with my husband after church -- they may not know our names but they know our favorite table and drinks order;  lunch at the local sandwich place where we do know each others names, where they're fine that I bring my own to-go cup; occasional trips to Michael's to be inspired.   I miss those people & interactions.

With all this time at home, and the freedom from deadlines or things I need to do, I decided to tackle the year-long online art workshop I'd signed up for.  I recently got the prompt for week 12 and since I was only half done with week 1, I thought I'd jump back in.  I sort of liked what I'd done before, but when I followed the rest of the instructions I absolutely hated my overall piece.  The more I tried to fix it the worse it got.  Finally I tore the pages out, walked into the room where my husband was selling on eBay and announced I was having an existential crisis.  I can be so dramatic at times!

Bits of the page I did like

My husband was great.  He closed the lid of his laptop and said, "I assume you want my thoughts on this?"  I did.   He asked me if I was taking the course because the teachers & students were all so enthusiastic and it would be fun to be part of the group?  And yes, I replied sheepishly, that was a strong reason.

And then he asked "Do you know what you want your art to look like?"

I'm not sure anyone has ever asked me that question.  And I was ready.  I do know what kind of art I want to make.  I know what I want my art to look like.  I know I can take inspiration from others, but in the end I want my art to look like mine.

I felt so free with that realization, took the ideas I liked out of what I'd done, and made something completely different.

stencils, paint, stamps, embossing powder, ink & collage

close up

This morning as I sat at my work table I wanted to write about my experience.  It felt like a new step in my artist's life, it deserved a journal with nothing from the past in it.  So I went upstairs to find something to write in, found a book with blank lined pages, then proceeded to decorate the first pages.  While I was waiting for the glitter glue to dry, I wrote this post (and may I say I have way too many bottles of Stickles). 

Stencil, gel prints, glitter glue

The start of a new journal of art musings