Kaleidoscopic Curiosities

Growing like weeds

  By popular demand, here are more kitten pix. They are 8.5 weeks old now. They are still so tiny but I think they have grown longer and sleeker in the week that they've been here. This is Panda relaxing on the pink mink, right before he peed on it.

Last Friday, after mostly staying in their hideyhole, Panda decided that maybe I wasn't so scary and Sandy followed suit shortly thereafter. Now I can't get them off me. They include me in their games by scampering right across my body at top speed, and at night we all curl up together to sleep.

I could watch baby animals sleep for hours and hours. There is something so peaceful about it. Mister Smith's snoring was my favorite sound in the world and I have been missing it desperately, but hearing these kittens purring in their sleep is a close second.

I love this photo of Sandy. Isn't she a pretty girl? 

Sorry the blog posts have slowed. I injured my right wrist a week ago and it's difficult to type and mouse while wearing this super-attractive splint. The good news is I can't wash dishes or fold laundry. :)

consider nemo found

I'm a proud Disneyland Annual Passholder. Walt Disney is a "big picture thinker" I have long admired. One day, sitting on a park bench eating peanuts while his young daughters rode a carousel, he thought, "Why can't there be a place where parents and kids can enjoy themselves together, in equal measure?" And a few short years and a few million dollars later, Disneyland was born. I know some people find the whole thing crass consumerist nonsense, but I love it -- always have, always will.

A few months ago I was one of a few (thousand) lucky Annual Passholders who won the chance to ride the new Finding Nemo version of the revived submarine ride before it opened to the general public. This was very exciting, especially considering that ever since the ride officially opened, the line to get ON the ride has averaged a wait time of three to four hours. Not me, man! That's the nice thing about having an Annual Pass -- if the line for a favorite ride is ridiculously long, no problem, we'll ride it next time and do something else today. So I was figuring we'd ride Nemo in October or January after the crowds got their fill. Even being a Nemo Preview winner, I figured we might have to wait in a considerable line. But no, we were swept straight to the front of a very short line and boarded our chrome yellow submarine in five minutes flat.

The ride itself was a tiny bit of a letdown, actually, after months of craning our necks to catch glimpses of the shrouded work area from the Monorail that glides over the submarine lagoon, not to mention the huge excitement of winning the contest! 

I remember the original ride, and this version has more of a story line and fancier graphic stuff. The big rush of bubbles still tries to persuade you that your sub is diving deep into the ocean's depths, and it is as tacky an effect as ever. :)

There are some beautifully rendered scenes of colorful coral and kelp, in impossibly blue water that sure looks inviting on a hot May afternoon, lemme tell ya!

The photos I took on the outdoor portion of the circuit came out okay, but inside the cave -- I mean, in the deepest depths of the distant ocean trench -- it was too dark to shoot anything with my feeble technology, so I'll just say that there is a Nemo-related storyline that's projected on big tv screens that are set into the rockwork, and there's a kinda neat volcano with lots of glowing, flowing lava, and a whole roomful of pulsating jellyfish -- there I go with my artistic jellyfish compulsion again. 

I read somewhere that when they were redesigning the ride, the Disney Imagineers tested and considered many different types of paint because they wanted to find one that would retain its vivid color through years of extreme sunshine.

But no paint lived up to their hopes, so they developed a completely new artform, really, that is sort of like "painting" with melted glass that fuses onto pre-built forms. The color is not applied onto the coral, it's an intrinsic part of the structure, and it almost seems to glow from within. Beautiful!

 

A fully articulated crab lay just outside my personal viewing porthole.

  A sign of the times: As soon as we boarded the vessel, everyone including my friend Peter and his friend Landon immediately pulled out their cell phones and started snapping photos.

You may recall these dapper fellows from the film. (The seagulls, not Peter and Landon.)

As I left the park, I found myself literally trapped at the end of Main Street while a parade wound its way around the flag circle, so I settled in to watch the parade for the umpteenth time. I love the costumes worn by some of the dancers who accompany the Little Mermaid float, but unfortunately I didn't remember my camera until the dancers had moved on. Here's the best shot I managed to get, it's blurry but I think it will give you the idea. To the left of center you can see part of the flesh-tone leotard the dancer wears, to give you a sense of scale here. I think she is supposed to be kelp or a fluttering sea anemone. I just love the laciness of what I'm sure is a very durable costume.

Spinning 101

And who made this cute little ball of handspun? I did, I did! Like bookbinding and weaving, handspinning provides that little extra frisson of excitement, to be making something out of nothing.

Writing about Felt Club in the previous post reminded me that it was at a 2006 Felt Club event that I met Jamie Chan, whose handspinning tutorial appears in the recently published Issue #25 of ARTitude Zine. Jamie is the proprietrix of Mary Jane’s Attic, an online shop specializing in knitting, spinning and felting supplies. She is also the organizer of San Francisco’s Bazaar Bizarre (or is that Bizarre Bazaar?).

But it was at Felt Club that Jamie gracefully and efficiently taught me and twenty other hot, sweaty, cranky shoppers how to spin our first lumpy yards of yarn.

August in Los Angeles is not exactly the most pleasant weather to be working with wool, but we did our best and Jamie really excelled at explaining and demonstrating what to do, so naturally I coaxed her to share her expertise with the readers of ARTitude Zine. If you’ve ever wanted to learn how to spin wool into yarn, you must check out this issue -- unfortunately it isn't listed on our website yet (long story) but you can order it by emailing me.

For some reason I am totally into fiber arts lately, so watch this space for more fibery, fabricky, fluffy stuff!

Felt up at Felt Club

Were you at the most recent Felt Club alternative craft fair, in Los Angeles in July? It was total mayhem. I was one of the first people to get inside (there were at least 400 queued around the block) and the place filled up so quickly it became nearly impossible to breathe, much less move around and shop.

What a shame, because the vendors I managed to see did have some really neat stuff. The Felt Club organizers promise a larger venue and a saner event next time (November). I sure hope so, because this girl’s got a lot of crafty shopping to do for the holidays!

I didn’t manage to buy a single item at the July event, but here’s a totally groovy purse I picked up at the previous Felt Club. Seriously, is it not the best? That is gen-yoo-wine vintage textured faux wood grain vinyl you’re looking at, there, folks. (I wanted to point that out in case your eyes are transfixed by the giant vinyl appliqué of blood dripping scissors and you didn’t notice the background).

Welcoming new friends

My decluttering mini-jag was brought on by these two little critters. Cute, huh?

They were born to a stray cat who’s been hanging out in my folks’ back yard for several months. The kittens are seven weeks old right now, and they moved in with me on Saturday. Their mom will be moving in with my folks after she’s been checked out by the vet. Although she’s somewhat reserved, she has taken a shine to us and it was very funny and heartwarming to see her march the kids onto the patio every day at 6am and 6pm for a good meal and some play. We think they all will adapt beautifully to being housecats.

Right now the kitties are tiny fluffy powder puffs of pure curiosity and I am delighted to welcome them into my (soon-to-be-kitten-proofed) home. The black and white one is Panda, which is short for Pandemonium. The Siamese is Sandy. (These names might be temporary, while I wait for them to reveal their true identities.) Although in the photos Panda's eyes look blue, they're actually gold, while Sandy's eyes are blue. (Note to self: buy camera with an anti-redeye setting.)

Panda seemed to be the dominant kitten but when they got their first shots they seemed to trade personalities a la Freaky Friday, and in the past day Sandy has been far more courageous, exploring new quadrants of the living room and reporting her findings to Panda (safe in their super-secret hidey-hole behind the tv) in soft, barely audible chirps.

Listening to them has been almost as interesting as watching them. They confer a lot. When I first brought them home, they scampered to separate super-secret hidey-holes in different parts of the room, and a little while later I heard a conversation that sounded a lot like, "Where are you??" "I'm over here! Where are you??" "I'm over HERE!! Under the bookcase!" "What's a bookcase?" Then Sandy the Brave cautiously wriggled out from under the bookcase and followed the sound of Panda's voice to his hiding place behind the television, where they can snuggle and relax in private. I'm glad they prefer that hidey-hole, because they're not going to fit under the bookcase next week (it was already a tight squeeze).

 

This morning the new game is "casually saunter as close as you dare to the big monster on the sofa, but don't let her touch you." Yesterday's theme was "jump on your sibling's head while he/she is trying to eat." They are very smart and very curious. I am outnumbered. Pray for me. :) 

Addition by subtraction

I read an article in Body + Soul magazine about how, in order to find more meaning in our lives, sometimes it is necessary to let go of stuff that isn’t in support of our core values to make room for that which is. Of course this is a concept I’ve read a zillion times, mostly in articles about decluttering my physical space but also in terms of detoxing my mind, body and relationships. But what really helped it to sink in this time was this clever turn of phrase: addition by subtraction. In order to add richness to life, start by subtracting something to make room for it, literally or figuratively.

Ever since I read that article I’ve been subtracting, in ways both large and small. Let’s just say my friendly neighborhood garbage collector had better eat his Wheaties, come Friday morning. Broken things I haven’t managed to fix in years: good bye! Furniture that has seen better days: thanks for everything! And my local Goodwill will be getting a sack of clothes that belonged to a person I used to be (but won’t be – don’t want to be – again) as well as countless small appliances that just take up space and numerous well-intentioned gifts that don’t enhance my life.

There is a long way to go, to dig out from all this clutter, but making a start feels really good. I have two excellent motivating factors for this renewed activity – I’ll show you tomorrow…

Manhattan Beach, early morning

I felt like taking a walk on the beach early this morning. We have many scenic beaches in this part of the world, but the one nearest me does not fit that description, particularly. :)

But I don't mind. It has sand, it has seagulls, it has roaring surf. And hardly any people, because they all go to the pretty beaches. So it's perfect for me, because what I like to do is to scramble to the end of the jetty and watch the crabs and sea urchins go about their business in the pools formed by the receding tide.

I think maybe the lesson I was there to learn today lies in how the tide pool creatures pace themselves. They make determined progress, doing whatever it is they're doing, when the tide draws most of the water out of their environs and they have a moment of peace. A moment later another wave sweeps in, impeding progress and maybe rearranging the territory a little.

The crabs don't seem to brace themselves against the crashing water; they just relax and let it come. They know it's only a momentary thing, and they know they can't control it. Their job is to deal with how things are when the icy water leaves again. They figure it out. I don't think they plan it ten moves ahead, like in a chess game. And like I always try to do.

Today I will try to relax into the waves, patient and willing to reassess course when I see which way is the new "up."

 

The sky and the water were the same shade of grey when I arrived at the beach around 8am. I hoped the sun would burn through the overcast while I was there but it didn't. It seemed like good light for photography, though. I wish I knew how to use this camera better.

 

Anyway, from a distance, the rocks that form the jetty appeared to be the same even, ubiquitous grey as everything else, but up close they are a cacophony of textures and colors. Every surface is either richly encrusted with mussels, barnacles or moss, or it's sanded smooth by the incessant pounding of surf and wind.

 

One of the boulders caught my eye because it glinted in what little sunshine there was. It was covered with these white things I first thought might be quartz chips embedded in the stone itself, but they were loosely scattered on its surface. Then I thought maybe they were little mica pieces, or even flakes of salt that circumstances had somehow conspired to glean from evaporating sea water. But upon closer inspection I wondered if they are fish scales. You must forgive me, I am a city girl. Maybe a creature carried a fish up onto the jetty for supper one day, and bit by bit the carcass was ravaged by scavengers and the elements until only this handful of durable proof remains.

When I arrived at 8 I saw that one of the tide pools was blanketed with seaweed and feathers. By the time I left several hours later, the action of the ebbing and flowing ocean had churned that loose gathering of objects into a plump, ratty knot and deposited it on a sandy ledge. It reminded me of the "bundles" that Sas Colby taught at ArtFest a couple years ago, each component rich with meaning, bound together in what one hopes is an appealing artlessness. The ocean is quite an artist. I guess she's been practicing her craft for a long time, and she's learned not to overthink it.

Dress My Nest

I got really burned out on home decorating shows a while ago, but recently I’ve been sucked back in by Dress My Nest on the Style network.

Thom Filicia (Queer Eye’s home décor guru) and his fashion stylist pal Erika revamp someone’s living room based on that person’s favourite outfit. Isn’t that an intriguing concept? (First of all, given the chance, what outfit would YOU choose as a visual explanation of who you are?)

Thom isn’t literal about how he translates the outfit into the room décor. He pulls colors, textures and moods from each garment and accessory, like a pinstripe in a blouse might turn up on the sofa or in the rug, and a woven straw handbag might be represented by wicker baskets or seagrass wall covering.

The episode pictured here was about a woman whose entire existence revolved around Hello Kitty (a subject near and dear to my heart, as you know). Her "inspiration outfit" dress has cute little pink hearts with curly green leaves, and I think Thom did a masterful job of translating that dress and the HK infatuation into this structured pink sectional (and see how the curtains are reminiscent of her denim vest, and the heart pillow echoes the hearts on her dress, etc etc). Thom even worked a few small and tasteful Hello Kittys into his design, bless his heart.

I especially appreciate the fact that they do much of their shopping at Pier 1 and other stores that are more or less accessible to someone of normal means. I mean, I can’t exactly ditch everything and redo the living room from top to bottom, but at least they’re not filling my head with tantalizing and utterly unachievable notions of West Elm and the like.

Dress My Nest seems to air on Thursday and Saturday mornings on the Style network. Check it out!

Isn't this delightful?

This chandelier is made of cookies. Read more about it and the baker/artist who created it at this link.

(Do the cookie buttons further down the page look familiar? We ran a similar project way back in ARTitude Zine #3, but without the mugwort.)

(You're welcome.)

Hence, the blog name...

This seems like a fine time to mention that my book, Kaleidoscope: Ideas + Projects to Spark Your Creativity, was published in February 2007 and I've been delighted to hear from so many enthusiastic readers!

I take very little credit for this sensational book, because it features a roster of over thirty talented authors and artists gathered from the robust art zine scene. It's not a typical "how-to" style craft book, it's more like a 144-page art zine complete with some projects, some essays and some terrific artwork, and every page is dripping with luscious graphics and color. I hope you'll check it out, or if you're already a Kaleidoscope reader, let me know what you think of it!

Kaleidoscope: Ideas + Projects to Spark Your Creativity is available at bookstores everywhere as well as Amazon and other online booksellers.