I’m driving down to Boise today to spend some time with my family. It’s the last opportunity I’ll have to spend any quality time with them before I move to Chicago. Since I’m not taking a laptop–and I can never remember my password–let’s all just assume that I’m not going to post anything until Wednesday, okay*? That way I’ll know you aren’t expecting anything and I’m not feeling guilty about it. I will be Twittering, however, since I can easily do that from my phone.
Have a lovely weekend. I fully expect to. I’ll be seeing the nephew.
*Not posting until Wednesday also means not approving comments until Wednesday, jsut so you know. If I can’t get into the program, I can’t get into the program.

So I’m in the Layer Love class over at Lost Luggage. Thank goodness it’s pretty easygoing time-wise, because I couldn’t start when everyone else did. The class began on Monday, May 18, and I was busy making books and some other stuff, and didn’t have time to get to the class until Thursday evening, when book parts were resting and I couldn’t do anything more with them.
That’s when I finally had the time to take a shot at Lesson 1:

For the most part, this particular painting was about figuring out how I could use the materials I had to hand, since much of what she works with is Golden and therefore NOT AVAILABLE IN THIS STUPID SMALL TOWN. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to living in a real city with real art supply stores. Oh. My. GAWD.
So really, for me, Lesson 1 was more an exercise in frustration than in painting. Though I did notice when I wanted to differ from her approaches. Moments where she’d do something with the paint and I’d think, “That’s not what I’d do there.” I followed her instructions, though, because sometimes you have to do that when you’re just learning something new. Try out what you’re being taught and see what you can gain from it, rather than rejecting it out of hand.
I’m not particularly satisfied with this piece. I had to use spray paint on it before I got it to a place where I felt it was “acceptable,” and that wasn’t part of Lesson 1. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it now, cut it up and use it for ATCs, just keep it the way it is until an idea strikes me, add more paint to lighten it up and journal on it, I just don’t know.* It has some interesting aspects to it, but as a whole, I’m really very “meh” about it. About as extreme a “meh” as is possible, given the milquetoastiness of the emotion.
Lesson 2, on the other hand…

Last night was the first time I really had the time to take a crack at Lesson 2. And my approach was vastly different. For one thing, I opted to use colors I wanted instead of the blues and greens she used in the example. For another, I went much more with my instincts. And though I fucked up a fair amount in the initial stages, I found some stuff I felt pleased with as a result of my recovery actions.
The lesson called for collage elements, which were to go under several layers of paint. I included those, but as I was tearing up my book pages–from A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf–I found some bits of text that spoke to me, and I wanted the viewer to be able to read them. So I set those bits aside and used some other pieces of those pages for the underlayers. I painted the “readable” bits while waiting for the painting itself to dry, and then attached them when it was “done.”
This piece isn’t finished yet, either, though I have some ideas about where I want it to go. This one will stay whole. On the left, I want to add… something… It needs a figure, preferably a female figure, Victorian, maybe a fairy, on the left. And also possibly something over that to better simulate imprisonment, to underscore the sense you get of light trapped behind bars, quietly making its way out. I have a lovely piece of netting that I’m considering either attaching–though I don’t like how it will stick out–or painting and using as a paint application tool. Though I’ll want to test that out somewhere else first, in case it doesn’t do what I’m wanting it to.
All in all, this class is giving me some interesting experiences. I’m frustrated that I can’t get the materials she uses (I could order them and have them shipped, but that’s kind of a pain in the ass), or I could just keep muddling along with what I have and what I’ve learned and see what I can get from it now, and then do it again later when I actually have the right tools. Which is probably what I’ll do. I mean, it’s not like I’m not gaining anything from these experiences. In fact, one of the biggest positives from the course so far is the discovery that I have a very strong sense of what I want, I’m not just uninformedly fucking around with paint, I’m doing what I feel moved to do. And the reassurance that I’m happier with the results if I go ahead and follow my own creative impusles.
*The more I think about it, the more I am inclined to cut it up into pieces and make it parts of something interesting.

After the wedding on Friday night, Dave and I went home early. Because we got on a plane Saturday morning and flew to Denver for ANOTHER wedding: Mike and Kellie.

Mike is Dave’s godson. A 27 year-old man who looks an awful lot like he did when I met him 13 years ago. Despite the time in the Navy, despite spending long hours in the sun with his frisbee dog, he still looks like he’s 14. Which means I’m still not sure he’s actually old enough to get married. I’m pretty sure he’s actually just the same kid I met 13 years ago whose uncles (one of them my then-fiance) pulled him out of a car by force and upended him in a snowbank. Because he was being mouthy. The whole time, he was clutching frantically at the doorframe of the car and screaming, “Aunt Sally! Help me! Help me, Aunt Sally!” and all I could do was laugh. I laughed so hard I had to hold onto the car myself. For support.

When we got the “Save the Date” card in the mail, it immediately went onto the calendar. Because nothing, but NOTHING, would induce us to miss Mike’s wedding. He’s just too special.

Kellie–the new Mrs. Godson Mike–seems pretty special herself. No-nonsense, solid, and tremendously funny. Also beautiful. Those Harlan men have a way of picking pretty women. Strong individuals who are also smart and gorgeous. Kellie is no exception. She’ll fit right into the family. Another awesome woman I’m proud to be related to.

I must say, though, that I really didn’t have as clear an image in mind for their album as I did for James and Seraphina’s. I decided to go with the colors on the invitation. And when I found the bauble in a store, I knew I had made the right choice. It was as if the universe itself was telling me their album needed that paper.

And to discover the perfect endpapers in my dusty collection of stuff was just additional support for the idea.

They’re both fantastic people. People I want to know better than I do. But this marriage? Even not knowing Kellie all that well, seeing the tears in Mike’s eyes as she walked into the room? I think it’ll take.

Even if he is only 14.

The groom entered to the Pirates of the Carribean theme. He inspected his troops groomsmen. They wore a variety of formal wear, all of it black, all of it attractive, all of it individual.

The bridesmaids entered in black dresses that also suited their own styles.

Then, in came the bride, escorted by her mothers. Her dreadlocks were bedecked with a single lily behind her ear. Her strapless red dress showed off her tattoos. She was barefoot. And absolutely stunning.

Thus began the tremendously moving wedding ceremony for our friends James and Seraphina.

I admit, I’m a big old sentimental baby when it comes to weddings anyway, but I was quietly sobbing for much of this one. Like when the bride couldn’t get through her vows without weeping until the groom took her hand. Then she was fine. That’s the kind of strength these two draw from and give to each other. Or when the groom so gently reached out to soothe the ring dog who decided it didn’t like being in the room with all those people. He’s such a kind man.

My book for them had to somehow represent the uniqueness and beauty of their union.

So I mixed silver (the details) and gold (the bookcloth). I made the internal pages different lengths. I used a recycled paper for the endpapers. So many things–like hearts and pirates–that shouldn’t go together in the way we usually think about things. And yet here, somehow, in this union (and this book), they do.

Must be something to do with love.

So this is technically the second recent stab binding I worked on, but I’m re-sewing the first one because I drilled it badly and then sewed it too loose as a result. It’s an awesome book, though, and I’ll post images of it here once I’ve re-stitched it.

Basically, this was a warm-up book, to remind me of the things I needed to know to create the gifts I made for the two weddings we attended this past weekend (I’ll post those images later). But once I’d finished the covers, I knew it was going to be a really special book, and I decided to instead send it off as a thank you gift to someone who had been so generous that I felt she deserved more than just a note. That certainly added to the pressure to do things right, since the book suddenly had such an important purpose.
I’m really proud of the work I did here. It turns out I can’t just make books to figure things out, I have to make every one beautiful, and I’m very, VERY pleased with this one.

It’s a fairly small book. 8 1/4″ x 5″. Potentially an awkward size, but it feels so intimate somehow. Like a precious object. A treasure.

I don’t know if you can tell from the image, but the paper is this lovely thick stuff that has flower petal inclusions. It’s not stiff, either, it’s fairly bendy. Wonderful paper to just run your hands all over.

I sent it off last week and received a reply from the recipient only a couple of days later, which surprised me, since it had to travel across the country. She loved it. Said it made her cry. I’m so pleased. I know I thought it was special, but I’m thrilled to hear that she does too.

I’m heading out of town tomorrow morning. Going to another wedding (I was just at one this evening, still a little tiddly from the wine), so I may not be posting for a bit. I haven’t decided whether to take my laptop. I probably won’t. Anyway, have a lovely looooooong weekend if you’re in the States and if not, have a lovely weekend of whatever length yours happens to be.

Aside from the whole not starting and finishing with relaxing trips to wonderful Pacific beaches situation (an oversight, and one I will not allow to occur ever again), this summer is shaping up to be as busy as last summer. In the next three weeks I will be in three different cities. Denver, Boise and Chicago. Knowing how rough the traveling almost weekly schedule was on me last summer, I’ve worked very hard to be sure I have adequate time between trips to maybe wind down and get some work done here at home. Though quite honestly, much of the work I’m hoping to get done will probably need to happen this week or it won’t happen at all.
After I get back from Chicago, I have two days before I dive into rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet. And then it’s about two months until I am no longer a resident of Moscow, but am instead a resident of Chicago.
In an attempt to make this whole summer as insanely cramped with business as possible, I am in the process of applying for a job that begins August 15. Given that R&J closes August 9, I could have a very, VERY busy week in early-mid August should I be hired. But it would be an awesome gig and well worth the dash across the country. However, once I get the application turned in, it’s all up to somebody else. So we’ll see what happens.
Damn. Tired. Long, full and busy day, with another very like it approaching rapidly.

This story–currently featured on the front page of nytimes.com–is about a woman I went to college with. Possibly two, I don’t recall whether Lisa was a student with us or not. Just the fact that a partner and parent is dead makes it a sad, sad situation. What makes it an infuriating situation is knowing that despite the legal paperwork, the hospital treating Lisa when she died refused to allow Janice and the children into her room because they weren’t “real family members.” Because Janice and Lisa are gay, and the hospital and the state of Florida don’t recognize gay marriage as legal.
Because some people have religion mixed up with humanity, a dying woman and her family were denied the comfort of each other’s company when the time came to say good-bye.
Honestly. In this instance, What WOULD Jesus Do? Because focusing on sexuality at the cost of love wasn’t his deal, as far as I recall from my long ago religious training.

Happy

         42nd

    Birthday

            David!!!

The buds on the lilacs are swelling, and for the first time in my life, the thought of their color and scent makes me unbearably sad instead of deeply happy.
Because every time I think about these lilacs, I think about this:

And about how I’ll never, ever get to photograph my darling pirate boy again. Oh, Polyphemos, I miss you so much.