The King is Dead, Long Live the King

So I, like probably every other blogger with two eyes and a heart, have put aside what I was planning on writing about today, and instead will take a moment to appreciate the hell out of the late, great David Bowie, who (along with sword-wielding Val Kilmer in a pink dress) had some serious influence over my budding sexuality:

You totally have power over me.

Ships and Shoes

I love ink so very, very much.  I love all the things you can do with ink, and all the tools you can use to wield it.  Recently a dear friend of mine gave me some excellent new dip pen nibs, and I sat down this evening to see how they handled.

...and sealing wax...

She also gave me a lovely stick of bronze-y sealing wax, and a pair of seals, and it's taking quite a bit of will power not to use up the entire thing right now.

I do so love loveliness.

Girls Who Love Cephalopods

Who loves octopi?  Thisgirl.  Also?  This girl, who is a very sweet and talented girl that I have a tendency to run into at conventions.  I ran into her again at ECCC, and she gave me a lovely sticker just because- and so I have done this drawing to say Thank You to her.

Will there be colors later?  Outlook likely.

Hopefully it comes across at sweet and not creepy?  I find that such a fine line to walk...

StarHugger (or, "A Post in Which Words Like 'Wonderful', 'Awesome', and 'Excellent' Are Used Entirely Too Often")

Man, this day just keeps getting more and more excellent.  Let's review, shall we?

Got up early.  Now, this is a tricky one- it can go either way on the Awesome factor.  If you don't want to be awake, and have to go do things you don't want to do, it can be awesomely bad.  But if your day is slotted to be awesomely good, then you want that Awesome to start as soon as possible.  And it did.

Put stuff for beef-beer-n-barley stew in the crockpot.  Sure, it wasn't fun at the time, but here I am, eleven hours later, appreciating the hell out of that decision.

Went to church early.  Again, this is another one that might have some (okay, most) of you going, "And the awesome part of this is...?"  Well, the awesome part was that we went early because Nathan was running through songs with the other Music People, because he's now part of that.  Which makes me very happy.  And what did I do while they were practicing? I...


Added about 600 words to the novel.  Words that were sorely needed to transform a single paragraph of "tell" into a page of "show".  That's what I've been up to lately, by the way- rewrites.  It's the first time I've ever done it on such a long project, and it's been... interesting.  Strictly speaking I don't have all my feedback from my beta readers yet, but it got to the point where I couldn't not write on it any longer.  I take that as an exceptionally favorable sign.


Spent five hours with My People.  Yep, Nathan drove me down to Portland and dropped me off at the Oregon Convention Center so that I could dork out with the rest of the comic geeks at Stumptown.  And I had such an excellent time.  So many wonderfully sweet and friendly and talented people, all jammed into one friendly little convention!  Happiness definitely achieved.  My first mission was to hunt down Mike Russell for Tavish (who could not attend) and get a few books.  Mike was just excellently kind, and I teased him about appealing to what I called "the Tavish Demographic" (ie, burly men with beards and cargo pants.)  (And niceness.) because there were two dudes (fans) standing there at the table that could have been the blonde and redheaded versions of Tavish, and it made me laugh.

From there I went and got another book for him (by DF Walker, who was also charming in spite of the fact that I don't think he was feeling well), took a brief moment to be midly fan-girlish toward Erika Moen (she likes my tattoos and I like hers) (and her, in general- she's kind of awesome), and then it was time for the first panel I wanted to attend-

Scott Allie: Comics Writing Workshop.  The best part of this talk was definitely the fact that everything he had to say, I already knew.  In fact I found it surprising that other people didn't instinctively understand things like pacing.  So that was definitely reassuring to me.  I slipped out a little early so that I could get over to the Oni Press table in time to catch my favorite current artist/writer duo:

Joelle Jones and Jamie S Rich.  They are both wonderfully sweet people, which I knew already (I'd met Jamie before at a Stumptown years ago) but which is always nice to have reaffirmed.  Plus, you know...  they signed my old copy of 12 Reasons Why I Love Her, and my freshly purchased copy of Spell Checkers.

After that I had an hour to wander before the next panel, so I went looking for art to buy.  This was a big and exciting thing for me, since this is the first time I've gone to a convention with cash set aside specifically to buy things that might catch my eye.  Nathan had expressed an interest in me bringing home something "for the apartment", so I was especially careful to try and find things I thought would appeal to the both of us- and in the process spoke with some very nice people, indeed, including Jonathan Case, who asked me what kinds of comics I like to read.

"Comics with good art that are well-written," I replied.

"Well have I got a book for you!"  he said, and filled me in on Dear Creature, which does, in fact, sound intriguing- and then he whipped out a sketch for me that fulfilled my other requirement.  It's not coming out until October, but you can bet I'll be looking for it.  I bought a very nice print from him that plays well to a certain inside joke between Nathan and myself regarding cephalopods.

I then purchased a lovely little print of Gavorting Mice (we'll just pretend they're rats) from Terri Nelson, who appreciated both my earrings and my "My Mom Rocks" shirt.  I also got a print from Jen Wang (whom I just now realize I recognize from her work in Flight) and another from a fellow named Ed Kwong- who was not actually present but some of his associates were.  The print was one I got thinking it was 100% to Nathan's taste.  And I was totally right.

Finally four o'clock rolled around, and I scooted into the next talk that had caught my interest,


Four Secrets to Succeed in Publishing. It was given by Katie Lane and George Rohac, and it basically came down to, "Read your contract, don't be afraid to be assertive, and if you can't say anything nice about someone, don't say anything at all." which are things my mother had taught me since I was old enough to...  well, since always.  Still, it's always pleasant to have one's common sense backed up by the been-there, done-that professionals.


Ask a Freelancer.  This was probably my most favoritest panel of the day, made up of the afore-mentioned Erika Moen, Dylan Meconis, and Steve Lieber, all of Periscope Studio which, come to think of it, seems to be home to a lot of artists that I like.  Hrm....  Anyway, they also addressed things that I was already familiar with (but only recently, due to having been reading a lot of books on freelancing/running your own business) but they were so entertaining that I just enjoyed it as an experience in and of itself.  Also, I learned an important thing:

So there's that.

And then the day was over, so I went outside to sit and wait for Nathan to come pick me up.  I was flipping through my swag when a car pulled up, and I looked up and who should I see through the window?

My old friend Craig!  So unexpected and awesomely awesome!  I finally got to meet his lady, which made me very happy indeed, and promises were made to go surfing once they get back in the country.  So that was just the perfect, perfect cherry on top of my wonderful ice cream sundae of a Sunday.

So Long, and Thanks For All the Fist

There are many things that I love about tonight's photo. In fact, let me count a few of the ways!

1. I love my rubber-face, I really do. As much as I love the conventionally beautiful photos that Nathan takes of me, I sometimes almost prefer the ones like this, in which I am doing something highly implausible with my expression.

2. I love Jeff's grin. I love that grin because of what it represents: how much fun I have with my brothers-in-law. They really are like brothers to me (the good kind) which is something I'm incredibly grateful for.

3. I love the little thumbs-up Jeff's giving, down in the bottom left corner. It's easy to over-look, but it's the sort of thing that (as we used to put it in our senior art seminar in college) "rewards the patient viewer". Little details like that bring you deeper into a piece, deeper into the story- which in turn deepens your appreciation for both the piece and the artist (regardless of what Nathan has to say about this shot being "not art").

4. The lighting. The lighting- especially on my face- is just fantastic. The ironic thing is that the batteries in Nate's flash had died, and so he was working without it, and therefore a touch crabby (he hates it when his equipment malfunctions) because he didn't have perfect control over the lighting. But he worked with what he had and I think it came out wonderfully- the higher contrast on my face gives the scene a sense of drama. Comedic drama, but drama nonetheless.

Lazy Day (Sort Of)

Woke up this morning before my alarm went off, which I seem to be doing with regularity these days. The nice thing is that I didn't have anything on my personal agenda until about noon, so I got to remain in bed, reading the latest Temeraire novel. Eventually Nathan woke up, and we discussed the fact that both of us had a hungerish sort of thing going on in our bellies, and that it had been rather a long time since we'd indulged in some Original Pancake House goodness. (We are very glad we don't have to give it up when we move back to the PNW.)

It says something about the temperature that it did not even occur to me to suggest that we walk; OPH is only a mile from our house, but baby you'd better believe we drove that mile. Normally when we go we try to go early (before nine) because it's a very popular place, and the wait time can be outrageous. This isn't so bad on a pleasant day, when you can sit outside on the fountain and watch the Crazy People of Birmingham creep out the tourists, but today was the sort of day that has you squeezed into the minuscule yet air-conditioned foyer, getting unintentionally snuggly with a bunch of strangers. Anyway getting there before nine tends to reduce your wait time, but apparently getting there after eleven has similar results, so that was fortunate. We only had to wait about ten or fifteen minutes before we were herded back to a little window alcove (from which I could conveniently carry out the people-watching I'd missed out on earlier). I never bother to look at the menu in OPH- I long ago gave up pretending that I'm going to order anything other than french toast- and Nathan already had his Final Contenders in mind (he opted for blueberry pancakes) so we managed to get our order in as soon as our waitress showed up.

Brunch was absolutely splendid (minus the part where the waitress kept trying to refill Nathan's "coffee"- which was actually hot cocoa) and after we waddled back out onto the street we decided to pop into Golden Temple to see if they carry dandelion coffee. Nathan made noises of trepidation, but I promised to protect him from my hippie brethren. As it turned out the did not have what we were looking for, but I did notice their lovely variety of non-peanut nut butters, so I'll have to go back once I've finished the almond butter jar I'm currently making my way through.

From there we headed home again, to pick up laundry and for me to change into my painting clothes, for today was the day I'd promised to go over to Jeff and Elizabeth's and paint a tree on their nursery wall. I spent about five or six hours on it, and I'd say it's looking pretty good- although I'm going to go back and look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow to see what needs touching. Plus it doesn't have any leaves yet... need to go by Michael's and buy stuff to make a stamp, 'cos damned if I'm going to paint all of them by hand.

So I have this weird feeling of not really having done much today, even tho' I guess I did. Five hours of drawing/painting is definitely doing much! But it didn't really feel like work... it's been a long time since I've gone into the kind of painting trance where you lose track of time; Elizabeth had to scold me for not drinking any water! She's a good sister-in-law. She says I could do that sort of thing for a living, and I guess I could. But it just seems weird to charge money for something that, to me, is so easy. Meh.

Jack Gets a Break

They say that the passage of time is nothing to an immortal- but I'm here to tell you they're wrong. Oh, perhaps time is nothing to an immortal who isn't tied to the seasons- but when you are then mister, time is pretty effin' evident. Your existence becomes broken down into two parts: the time of year when you're doing your job, and the other nine months. And maybe that sounds pretty great to non-immortals- only having to work a quarter of the time- but then I want you to remember that I don't get to quit. Ever. Literally ever. Can your brain even begin to process that concept? No retirement, no death. Just on and on forever. And I've got to tell you- there are only so many possible frost patterns to be made: the work gets damn repetitive after a couple of millennia. Every winter I more and more seriously considered shoving icicles through my eye sockets to alleviate the boredom.

But then I met Arachne.

She's an immortal, too- but she started out human. Most people might consider immortality a blessing from the gods, but just ask Arachne- she knows better. She royally pissed of some goddess or another back in the day, and in retaliation she got a (frankly pretty ugly) new form and an eternity to 'think about what [she'd] done'. Anyway I met her one summer as I was kicking around the Mediterranean (it's just prejudice to assume we winter creatures only like cold- we don't.) and we got to talking. Turns out she's an artisan, too, although she leans to weaving rather than etching. I asked if I could see some of her stuff and she showed me, and damned if I wasn't impressed (hard to do when you've been around as long as I have).

She waved off my praise, saying that honestly, she was getting a little bored with the whole thing. When you're immortal you have plenty of time to hone your craft- and she had long ago run out of new or challenging ideas. To her everything she'd created lately was static, boring.

I told her I knew exactly how she felt.

So we sat in that bar, sharing a couple pitchers of daiquiri and bemoaning our fates, and round about glass number four (or possibly five- I lost count) inspiration struck. I couldn't tell you now which of us had the great idea, but the next thing I knew we were at my summer place and I was teaching her the fundamentals of etching.

The upcoming winter was suddenly looking a lot more exciting.


(The Rare Arctic Spider)

She Dreams in Ink and Flashing Needles

My infatuation with needlework is a relatively recent development (it was kindled back in December of '08; one of Nathan's Commercialmas was a lovingly cross-stitched towel that says "NARDDOG") but I am fairly certain it's going to turn into a life-long love affair. I've had a recent resurgence in my interest, which means that not only have I been doing it, I've also been reading about it (as I am wont to do with my various obsessions). I came across something Jenny Hart said in an interview that really struck a chord with me: "I like that embroidery serves no function. It's unlike knitting, crochet or sewing in that regard. Embroidery is pure embellishment. It's the frosting of needle arts, but it's almost always secondary to a functional object. It decorates something useful like a jacket, a tea-cozy, a pillowcase."

Or, as I paraphrased it to my mother during the conversation that made up part of the inspiration for this post, "Embroidery is purely ornamental- it serves no purpose other than to beautify."

This whole concept is kind of a big Thing with me. Form versus function, I mean. I am very much a Divided Person on that topic- on the one hand, I have this very pragmatic side that is very much concerned with useful things, and so long as a thing does what it is intended to do, who cares what it looks like? On the other hand, I'm a friggin' visual artist- you're damn right I care what things look like. Well, things that I make, at any rate. But at the same time the pragmatic part of me (which has a voice mush like my grandmother's, come to think of it) can't help but be slightly scandalized that I would "waste" time creating things no one "needs", rather than putting time and energy into something "useful". Because let's face it- we don't need beauty to survive. We need water, food, and shelter. Beauty is a luxury. It feeds the soul, sure- but we don't need it to propagate the species.

And yet.

Every culture that I'm familiar with finds some way to to create art- or at the very least find it in the world around them. Food for thought.

But back to the conversation with my mom. I also mentioned that I feel there's a real kinship between embroidery and tattooing- the needle goes in and out, leaving behind beautiful marks. She made what can only be called a noise of distaste at this observation, but the more I think about it the more I'm convinced it's a valid comparison- what is tattooing, if not embroidering the skin with ink rather than thread? It serves no survival purpose... but we do it, anyway. We embellish ourselves, have been embellishing ourselves for far longer than we've been embellishing pillow cases (...as far as I know. If an anthropologist in the crowd would like to give me an academic bitch-slap, by all means please do- I like learning stuff...)

Anyway my point is that it makes sense that I should be drawn to the decorative art of embroidery, since I'm so utterly besotted by the decorative art of tattoo (someday, someday I shall wield a needle of a buzzing sort...). And of course my brain is just exploding with art projects right now... ways to tie together my drawings, my tattoos, and my embroidery. Ink, thread, and needles...




(I honestly think this recent surge in creativity is directly tied to my recent bout of depression. Muses are joy-vampires I swear it...)

Subject Switcheroo

We’re down in Prattville this weekend, so we took advantage of our proximity to Tim and Meredith to pop down to their place and hang out/have dinner with them (and of course their lovely daughter-whom-I-shall-call-Leafy). We decided that the weather called for grilling, so Nate and I brought over some steaks and corn-on-the-cob (note to self: farmer’s market is open again- make it a point to get corn from there from now on), Nate worked his marinating magic, and then Tim wielded fire and turned it all into food. Good stuff, good stuff.

Whenever we get a chance to get together like this, Nate and Meredith try to get some joint-photography going. Meredith has recently started experimenting with light painting, so it was suggested that that be the subject of tonight’s session, since Nathan is interested in learning more, as well. In the end Nathan didn’t actually end up taking any shots (he’d gotten a good one of Leafy earlier in the afternoon) but I think he learned a lot by working with Meredith on hers. Tim and I took turns being models and playing photographer’s-assistant (such is the fate of photographers’ spouses everywhere) and generally having fun. At least, I had fun- it’s always interesting to me to model for different artists, because everyone has their own methods. And I will say that it did not hurt my feelings at all when Meredith complimented my ability to keep still between shots rather than running to look at the camera… (A trait that pretty much comes from getting my training during Katie’s film-camera beginnings, I’m sure…)

Anyway the whole experience was just good, and it really illustrates how important creative community is when you’re an artist. That’s something I wish we had more of- or, rather, lived closer to. All our artist friends are scattered across the country, and it makes it difficult to get together and bounce ideas off one another like we did this evening. I look forward to the day when we can have more regular access to a Studio of peeps...

This One's For You, Mom

Some of you may know that my mother is a stained glass artisan. As a result, I have grown up surrounded by some singularly gorgeous glass. (Here, have a few more for good measure.)

Now, I am certain that if I were to ask her, my mother could give me a fairly accurate history of her craft, tracing it's origins back beyond the cathedrals of the middle ages to whichever mineral-rich, lightning-struck beach it got its start on.

But that is way too easy. And also probably not as much fun as the theory I've just stumbled upon:

In ancient times people looked around themselves, saw the transient beauty of nature, and wished to capture and preserve it for their own perpetual enjoyment.

The original stained glass artisans were powerful shamans- magic users who could command the elements and trap them in crystalline form. In the beginning this is all they did, bring pleasure to themselves and others by capturing moments of beauty to be gazed upon eternally. It wasn't until centuries later that an enterprising young magic user got the idea of using these shimmering artifacts to craft still more powerful spells. She began to piece the disparate shards of nature into entirely new images, with which she could shape the very dreams of mankind. It was a powerful working, and one that could easily be used for ill, as some of her pupils would later prove.

As the centuries continued to turn and magic began to recede into slumber, a descendant of the Image-maker (the last of her line, and barren) made one final, desperate play to keep a trace of her family's legacy in the world. She created a panel that drew all the glass-magic in existence to itself, and used it to gift a young, mortal artisan with a dream that had never before been possible: the dream of non-magical glass production.

The effort involved in such an endeavor led to the magician's death- but what she gave to the world lives on.

(Dream)