I went through all my drawings that I saved from my years at RISD yesterday.  Most of them went in the recycling.  I saved a few good ones and photographed others.  I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, it just took a day of no kid and the energy.

I was fortunate enough to have Victor Lara for my first two semesters.  He was the right teacher for me.  He really pushed you to see and record the essence of things, and his teaching style was laid back but dead serious.  We drew for 8 hours a day and every night.  It was tiring work but by the time the year was over I could really draw.

I liked these two drawings because the studios at school really looked like this, chaotic, cluttered and not so clean.  I remember coming back from exercising and having to stay up till 10 doing self portraits.  I looked tired in most of them.  Hard to believe I was 18 once. 

My favorite project at RISD was my tree drawing series.  I drew the Beech tree in the president’s office garden every day for a month.   I went every morning before breakfast, no matter the weather and drew this tree.  I have spent my adult life living in and loving trees.  It is interesting to think that my core interests have not changed, I’ve simply gotten older.

Karim Rashid’s production furniture studio was the toughest semester at RISD.  As an adult and a manager I realize now he must have been an administrative headache, but he was a great teacher.  Of all the teachers I had, he spent the most time with us.  He really loved design and espoused the value of it in every aspect of life.  He continuously sat down with each of us to help refine our designs.  He was always candid and genuine with a good sense of humor.  He was also the most rigorous teacher.  He was really adamant that we design for a specific agenda on all fronts, aesthetics, materials, ease of manufacturing.  He set limitations, but you never felt limited.  He had a way of guiding you through misjudgments such that you genuinely wanted to do a better job the next time.  Inspirational might be too strong of a word, but it was something like that.

As I flipped through the drawings I noticed that many had lines drawn on the back.  Karim was really into practicing drawing a straight line.  He had us practice all the time.  It is one of the useful tricks from my RISD days that I use all the time.

I am not sure that anyone from this studio except Peter Mann continued on to build furniture, but it certainly was an influential experience for me.

I really liked Seth Stem too.  He was a very conscientious and gracious teacher.  I remember that for my final crit he had someone come in especially for me, and as I recall her insights were great.  I remember I got a serious talking to by Seth when he found out I was not going anywhere for spring break.  He felt students should get away to clear their heads, and he made no bones about telling me to get out of town.  I used to live vicariously through this man who drove in every day with a windsurfer strapped on the roof of his car.  It was comforting to know that someone in Rhode Island was getting enough exercise and enjoying the great outdoors while the rest of us were stuck in gloomy Providence.

The drawings that struck me as most interesting upon re earthing were sketches of shoes.  Perhaps it was because prior to this I had only seen compressed charcoal and pencil drawings, but whatever the reason I saved lots of them.  These were from Bob Oneal’s shoe class.  Bob was the teacher that I think I had the most in common with from a sensibility perspective.  However, I don’t think we got along very well personally.  I was then and am now head strong.  I have learned overtime to channel my opinions but I’m sure I was a handful back then.

Bob had us do lots of interesting conceptual projects.  I found a whole folder of drawings of this little piece of plastic.  I think we were supposed to animate it in some way.  Below are paintings of the landscape we created out of found objects.  My landscape was a forest made of rusty nails with all sorts of other items in it (I don’t remember what) in among them.

Random.

There were some landscape architecture  drawings and universal kitchen sketches mixed in.  I definitely was not cut out to do either of these things.  Come to think of it I really am not cut out to do any of the things I learned in ID.  By the time I graduated I’d given my college try and knew that none of the physical skills I had learned would be used again, but that the conceptual and organizational skills were invaluable.  I was unequivocally sure that I was going to design information as my career.  So far I have not veered from that path…again head strong.

The other thing that struck me about the drawings I found was that many of them were sort of about inner peace, and finding order in chaos.  This is part an parcel how I make my living.  I make complex data and concepts easy to understand.  It is nice to look back and see continuity in your life.  At least in your drawings.  I have 4 tubs of sketch books to tackle next, curious to see what those reveal.

Stephanie brought several dozen quail eggs on our trip to Tahoe.  Since we were the last to leave, we got to take home the remaining unboiled eggs.  I explained to Seth about blowing out the yolk and insides of an egg so the shell can be preserved.  He loved this idea.  He spent about three hours of his life this spring happily blowing  quail eggs.  He was so patient.  Whenever  one would crack mid blow,  he would swish out his mouth with water (he kept a glass nearby for this common occurrence), wipe his face with a with a paper towel and carry on.

The morning after Seth finished his egg blowing marathon he announced that he was going to paint the eggs.  Ryder handed over some water colors and Seth got to it.  I forget from year to year how memorizing egg coloring really is.  By the time he was half way through I couldn’t hold myself back, I had to get in on the action too.  The pinks and greens were particularly spectacular.  I don’t know why color is so appealing on eggs, there is something about the form that lends itself to hue.

My springs are very busy.  Every year we have a big egg hunt.  This year we had a small egg hunt that was preceded by a big school auction, that took my time instead.  For some reason these eggs remind me of spring break in college.  All I can remember is sleet out side my window in Providence, and quail eggs.  I don’t know why we would have had these eggs but the speckles make me feel so introspective.  Back then I wanted the life I have now.  It’s funny that I knew someday I would get to make art and crafts with my own kid, all I had to do was bide my time and work through all the things that happened between then and now.

Today was our last official day of Mountain School at the little red school house.  In honor of this transition I thought I would document some of my favorite preschool phenomena, starting with community paintings.  I love the way the children gather around a shared canvas.  This is such a great way to start out the collaborative path of learning.  My own childhood and education were singular, there was little in the way of group projects.  I don’t want this for Seth.  I want him to enjoy a lifetime of social connection and exponential productivity.  There is so much joy to be found in collaborating with others, it is a fundamental part of being human.

Seth has brought beets that he grew in his own garden all three years we have been at Mountain School.  In those years life was a bit transitory, but we managed to plant beets where ever we were.  Planting beets twice a year helps us hold on to the importance of the growing cycle, and keeps us rooted in what is real.  I guess most of all, it’s  the continuity of one plant.  There is one plant that, come hell or global warming, Seth knows how to grow to sustain himself.

Mountain School above all is about stewardship.  A. rescued this snail from the beet greens.  She must have carried it around for 20 minutes, showing it to friends and faithfully caring for it.  Eventually she let it go in the garden where it could munch on our flowering kale.  It struck me that a child like A. who is usually spearheading the more human-centered activities would take the time to engage with this snail.  It’s not so unusual in the larger context of our school.  The philosophy is so rich in natural experience and observation, that even for the most “social” of children this act of stewardship was undertaken with the least bit of pretense.    She picked up the snail and took care of it because when you go to Mountain School that is what you do – without a second thought.

This year’s auction was an undisputed success.  The decorations team did a great  job.  Everyone contributed loads of fabulous ideas.  The end result was relatively easy to accomplish, and was nothing short of magical!

THANK YOU

Aimee

Julie

Jamie

Melissa

Dorice

THE LIVE AUCTION!

THE PARTY!

Many of the class and individual projects were amazing.  Vilma’s hand made redwood bench was spectacular.  Thanks to the Franks the 4/5s chair was embellished with some wonderful illustrations.  Teacher Marie’s quilts were wildly popular.  I may be biased, but I think Seth’s square rocked!

This costume rack is genius!  I mean what kid doesn’t want access to any costume 24/7, and with a banana slug on the rack to boot!  The birdhouse replica of the school was quite sweet, and made me feel a little sad that this is our last year ~ sigh…

I think this quote by our school founder Betty Peck pretty much sums it up…

Dear Seth,

My new years resolution was to make sure that I documented your impressive dragon preoccupation.   I draw the outline and you fill in the colors.  Sometimes I help with the colors too, it’s something we do together.  It started on the day of the ALS fund raiser.  You were anxious and fidgety waiting for our “performance” were we spoke to the guests about Grandma Belle.  This was our first stab at dragon therapy.  It evolved from there as a sort of transition activity.  The tradition of coloring dragons on legal pad in sharpie emerged from a moment where we were waiting for our carpool, and you suggested we draw a dragon using the materials floating around in the car.  After that, dragon drawing morphed into an an activity indicative of transition times.  Times when you had too much unfocused energy, or times when you were tired and scattered and needed a bit of paper to lay it all out on.

The wall above your bed is covered in dragons, each of them a little slice of your emotional being.  We tried new techniques of coloring the dragons.  In the photo below “Elbowy” and “Closey7″ are partly colored with flower petals.  And of course every one’s favorite “Scratchy” the scratch board dragon.  Scratch-boarding was incredibly appealing to you.  I guess you liked the process of coloring really hard with a big black crayon, then taking a letter opener to the canvas and undoing what you had just done with equal intensity.  When you found out that I was planning on working on a Boy’s Almanac header you politely insisted that we do it in scratch board.  You then proceeded to art direct the entire project from start to finish.  It was neat to see you take creative initiative.  Partly because you have seamlessly picked up the art of creative leadership, but mostly because not in a million years would I have been motivated to come up with these wonderful creatures on my own.

The day that you found the giant piece of Ikea cardboard and announced that it was high time we start making the  “pin the fire on the dragon” dragon was simply the best.  We must have worked on it off and on for at least a week.  Me coloring a bit haphazardly, and you directing me with gentle specificity.  As usual you started planning your fire party well in advance this year.  The dragon was finished at least a month before the party.  You were quite diligent about taking me to Affordable Treasures  and Michael’s to make sure we had just the right party favors.  You were even flexible when we went to the Nob Hill last minute and brought home a blank frozen cake.  You rose to the occasion and art directed Ryder in the process of squeezing out a frosting dragon, complete with fire truck and ladder to douse the flames.

I may never remember any of the imaginary dragon play scenarios from the last 4 months, but I will always remember your legal pad dragons.  Thank you for the fabulous “Autumn of the Dragon”.

Love + Mommy

I like the camera because photos help me see blurred, bright or empty spaces.  I never think we should stop experimenting with composition.  Even today Seth and I were remarking about the “odd” negative spaces in a block construction we had made.

Apples have so many varying textures, colors and demeanor.  These photos really capture the different flavors, states of growth and decay.

Wilder Ranch Harvest Festival.

Man dens can be quite dingy and disorganized.  Since I spend two weekends a month at Ryder’s, I decided that was enough time to warrant an intervention.  The house is fashioned of slump stone with concrete floors.  Overall it has a very 70’s vibe.  However, there are a few saving graces like the awesome sun room where I have my office, and the retro Heath tile counters in the kitchen.  After spending a year frequenting this place the house finally spoke to me.  It had to be fresh green, it called for graphic nature and bright white.

The little side table was a Calderon cast-off in sort of a dark cheapo mahogany.  I painted it white (all ID Grads cover your ears) and in the same stoke distressed the paint with a sander.  It holds the room together nicely.  It adds that feminine touch that all caves really want but are too proud to come out and ask for.  The bed got a complete makeover.  I even made the trek to IKEA for the right pillows at the right price.  After letting them off-gas  I clothed them in Herb by Jessica Jones.  I found an abandoned white sheet set in a closet, and quickly got those laundered.  There is a dark dusty fireplace here too, so I found the fire screen outside, I cleaned it thoroughly and whipped up a little mosaic to cover it…ta-da instant dinge-be-gone.  The fabric is mainly Green Pressed Leaves By Erin McMorris.  I thought this pattern best reflected the spirit of the house, but I had to turn it on the bias anyway.  The best surprise of all was all the little ceramic plates that appeared here and there as I sorted through the detritus.  The artist is Pat Oyama.  Her work is has a light earthy quality.  Now that they are all hung together on their own wall we can properly admire each piece, it’s own little visual poem.

So here is my first little (post kid) oil painting project.  The duo was based on squares from a little quilt I made a while back.  Upon closer examination the quilt seemed to be sort of fresh and hopeful.  However in the process of putting the oil paint layers on I realized that I had to bury that dream.  I guess having those failed ideals of home and nesting buried in this painting is good.  I now have ruminated on the experience, changed my expectations and hung the duo over the fireplace at my new digs.

I’ve been lusting after this orange fabric since the spring.  After endless internal debate about what to make out of it I finally settled on pillowcases.  I saved cash by extending with the amy butler mums from daisy chain.  This way I only had to buy a yard and a quarter at $17.50 a pop, that took a nice chunk off the price.

My friend Bertie who’s studio I was sewing in lost a nephew today.  As I was composing the photos I noticed that in the background was a little painting I made after my friend Bodie disappeared.  The introduction of vibrant living fabric caused me to remember the  memorial that is always there.  It’s funny how loss can be so consuming like orange and mint pillowcases, or live with us every day and not be noticed in our internal and external landscape.

Parenting is selfless.  For days, weeks, years on end we shed all manner of introspection to nurture and raise our offspring.  I had a little time to myself this weekend to paint and putz and do what ever I darn well pleased.  It occurred to me that perhaps it was high time to take a self portrait.  As soon as I woke up this morning I made Ryder go out to the garden and take photos of me.  I wanted to capture “me” at my least self conscious.  My early morning visit to the garden is the place where my self comes out.  It is a time and place where I am unhindered by a day of thoughts, interactions and expectations.  I am my biological self here, the me that can’t separate itself from petals, chlorophyll and dew.

My second agenda was to document the skirt.  I’d seen this daisy fabric quite some time ago and really wanted a gardeny, vintagy wrap skirt made out of it.  I mean what gardener doesn’t want to wear her garden all the time?  The skirt was supposed to be simple to sew, but it turned out to be tricky.  Bertie was kind enough to help me with it and I can’t thank her enough for more or less sewing it for me!   Aside from the daisy and squash blossom vibe of the fabric, I had hoped that the 50’s shape would play down my length and feminize me a bit.  While I am wearing it I feel very swishy and Alice in Wonderland.  However, when I saw the photos I realized that I simply am what I am.  Perhaps I should be less self conscious of my wingspan and consider myself lucky that I have arms which can retrieve almost anything that might be hiding just out of reach in the summer garden.