also known as "why i didn't wish you a happy mother's day..." :)
i am a glutton for punishment. i (once again) was determined to make presents instead of buying them. so, for my mother, my stepsister and my stepsister's mother in law i made little reversible satchels (w/ new added pockets) like i made for paloma's teacher.
anyhoo... i really hope you gave yourself some much deserved R & R on mother's day... an hour of two before mother's day lunch, i finally unclenched. :)
so, on my calendar (and the linked website), national teacher day is celebrated tomorrow...
which does not explain the phonecall i received from my husband shortly after he walked the paloma to school:
the thin man: "um... did you know that today is national teacher day?"
me: "um... according to my calendar that's tomorrow."
the thin man: "well, according to all the other children and parents with flowers and gifts that were gleefully standing in line... it's today."
me: *shakes fist at sky*
anyhoo.... lately, i've been REALLY good at making gifts instead of buying them... and i wasn't going to let someone else's errant reading of the calendar stop me.
the only thing i could think of making without the use of notions (i.e. zippers, snaps, buttons, etc...) was a bag of some kind... i did some googling and found this lovely tutorial for a reversible bag from the verypurpleperson blog.
i have a lot of fabric (no!? really!?) and i picked a bunch of different combinations, but i went with a neutral palette anyway... it's kinda "listening to van morrison, drinking wine coolers at the lake" summery... :)
the paloma's teacher is really nice and has been one of the many highlights to the paloma first grade year... i'm glad that i can make something for her that will brighten up an already beautiful day... i really hope the paloma didn't feel too bad about not having something for her this morning... eek. :(
last but not least - to the teachers who made the realm of H*LL, otherwise known as high school, bearable (and oftentimes magical) for me, thank you, thank you, thank you... especially Mr. Harper, Mr. Thetard, Mr. Wood and Mr. Poehler. :)
i consider myself one of the luckiest people in the world... blessed to have had my life intersect with the life of Frankie Manning.... Frankie, thank you for teaching me how to dance and for inspiring me with your bright spirit.
when i reflect on the house and the neighborhood and what a toll this has taken on my life and the lives of my children and my husband, i am comforted by the fact that we made a handful of really amazing friends who i miss dearly, even though we're on the north side of the city... i really don't regret moving there and living there... i learned a lot about myself and the depth, ebb and flow of friendship and (blood) kinship... how members of a "family" (define as you will) will cleave, support and comfort their loved ones in those quiet, dark and sometimes threatening times...
anyway, one of my very closest and treasured friends has a wonderful son, M. he's in the hospital right now, going thru some surgery to help correct a VATER birth defect. he loves raccoons, tornados, tsunamis, volcanos, the color red, anything asian related (no, he's not asian) and playing violin. :)
so, i made this little friend for M. hopefully, we'll be able to visit him tomorrow and introduce them... :)
happy seventh birthday to my spinning, laughing, spastic dancing, tone deaf singing little girl... always keep your eyes open, always hope for the sun, always sing your fractured version of jingle bells to anyone who runs for cover....
i'll always worry for your fragility despite your toothy fearless smile and quiet courageous grace...
i love the little people you were, the lovely little person you are right now and am looking forward eagerly to meeting the smart, amazing, funny, inspiring, generous, heartminded person you'll grow up to be.
“Asian American Voices: Shaping Silicon Valley, Strengthening Community, Sharing Hope”
"Silicon Valley Asian American Voices is a multimedia project that facilitates education and advocacy on policy issues that impact Asian American immigrants. The project is facilitated by Asian Americans for Community Involvement (AACI), a nonprofit organization based in San Jose, CA.
General Synopsis This documentary follows the stories—the successes, hardships, and hopes—of three Asian American immigrants in Silicon Valley. Despite struggling through language, cultural, and health care barriers, these individuals readily work to shape the local community. For a region that has thrived on the ideas and labor of immigrants past and present, supporting these populations remains vital toward improving the social and economic health of Silicon Valley. This piece explores the strengthening of community through the support of immigrant populations.
Chapter 1 – Building California and Silicon Valley Asian Americans have shaped and steered the innovation, development, and technological growth that uniquely characterize Silicon Valley today. This chapter provides a brief timeline of the history and contributions of Asian American immigrants to this region.
Chapter 2 – Nenita Ibe Nenita Ibe, an elderly Filipina woman, works hard as a room attendant in the hotel industry. She is an active member of the union committee, advocating for workplace changes that will improve the lives of those around her. Related policy issues: health care access, language access, immigration reform, family reunification
Chapter 3 – Andy Pan As a child, Andy witnessed his family struggle to support itself on multiple low-wage jobs. Now, a young sales executive at a software company, Andy has applied the lessons and values gained from his experience, succeeding in business and volunteering as a financial counselor for those in need. Related policy issues: language access, ESL classes, citizenship, immigrant support services
Chapter 4 – Iris Dinh In 1981, Iris Dinh fled Vietnam. After months in a Thai refugee camp, she was granted sponsorship to come to the United States. Today, as a graduate student, social worker, and activist, Iris strives passionately to give voice to the vulnerable and build a community that honors the health and dignity of all. Related policy issues: health care, language access, cultural competency, immigrant support services."
i have to admit, one of the many reasons i miss the bay area SO much is because of how many asians live there. when i moved to san francisco in 1995, i distinctly remember walking around and becoming so aware that i didn't feel like the odd person out. it was especially humbling and empowering to disappear into a swell of filipinos and to see the living legacy of asian immigrants who paved the way before me.
i wish i could be there to see the screening of the documentary! nenita ibe reminds me so much of my lolas (grandmothers - meaning mine and all my friends lolas too.) just that little snippet of her makes me so proud and so eager to hear her story.
for those of you able to attend the film festival, here's an AWESOME bonus: head on over to silicon valley asian american voices' facebook page where they will be asking questions that fans can answer to win tickets to the Asian American Film Festival were the video will be screening on 3/20/10.
check out their website here. follow them on twitter here.
i think this is the fastest drawing i've ever done... which may or may not be a good thing... generally, i draw at glacier speed and have been trying to draw the IF prompts as fast as i can with as much detail as my drawings usually have...
ennywey.... my mind drew a complete blank when i saw the word propagate. so, i looked it up:
prop·a·gate (prp-gt)
v. prop·a·gat·ed, prop·a·gat·ing, prop·a·gates v.tr.
1. To cause (an organism) to multiply or breed. 2. To breed (offspring). 3. To transmit (characteristics) from one generation to another. 4. To cause to extend to a broader area or larger number; spread: missionaries who propagate the faith. 5. To make widely known; publicize: propagate a rumor. 6. Physics To cause (a wave, for example) to move in some direction or through a medium; transmit.
and being the true (brainwashed) child of the 70s that i am, i thought of this:
for some reason, the words "...and so on, and so on..." made me think of twitter and how a retweet can also multiply and propagate, etc in a similar and organic manner... so, i melded the ideas together... i especially liked making up the fake twitter handles and the "140 fl. characters" instead of ounces... :)
btw - the tracing of the twitter font couldn't have been accomplished without downloading the arista 2.0 font from dafont.com
i know many people of different colors, shapes, sizes, abilities – and i would never be so arrogant as to claim to know them or define them in words, or music, or drawings… much less make them the subject of a black comedy from which i could make a profit.
here’s a newsflash: just because you know/live with/marry/date someone who’s disabled doesn’t make you automatically not a bigot. it’s a fact - love and hate are intertwined…. show me one relationship whose pendulum hasn’t swung between love/hate and i’ll show you a dead/fake relationship….
i don’t want either of us to be politically correct. so, when i say, when it comes to “the disabled” (a term even I don’t like to use) you are ignorant - i'm just trying to be helpful.
i don’t hate you, creators & fans of evelyn evelyn. i don’t think you’re evil. i don’t care if you’re mean or get some joy out of watching/encouraging others being mean. i don’t care about all your defenders, disabled or abled, famous, infamous or obscure and unknown….
personally, i would never make fun of ignorant, privileged, albeit creative, musicians/artists and then make those people feel wrong for trying to inform me of why i shouldn’t say whatever i said about them.
imho, evelyn evelyn is not an exercise in creativity, it’s a bigoted interpretation of a “disabled” life. and it’s a terrible interpretation. evelyn evelyn is defined as “good art… that comes from stories”. i have to disagree. from what little i’ve seen, it’s bad art that comes from a good story.
from my heart, i’m speaking for the girls with deformities like mine… who know what it feels like to hear “circus freak” combined with a swipe and push of the head or a swift kick to the feet and the hellacious scrape of cheekbone to concrete and gravel that follows...
girls, like me, who would have delighted at ripping strangers' eyes out, when they, like you, spoke at gentler tones (thanks for being so thoughtful) about us, assuming maybe we couldn't hear at that distance... were possibly deaf and mute or just didn't speak english... or maybe were just not "sophisticated" enough....
but see? our cooler, human, intelligent minds prevailed - we thought better of you... we knew how much you would need those eyes, how much you took them for granted... we realized that maybe, by being better role models, you would learn something from us...
but maybe we should have spoken a little s l o w e r for you?
i hope you learn from this… i hope you learn from your mistake… admittedly, it bothers me a little bit that you’ll probably do this again since you sincerely think creating this work was actually brave and important…
lastly, i forgive you for your non-apology apology, which in some ways was even worse than the creation of evelyn evelyn itself.
i remember when i was still in college (*cough*90s*cough*) wishing i knew the sentiments in this song, these lyrics... and how wonderful it is now, to not only know it, but feel it deeply and elicit these feelings in someone else i love so dearly...
"Sky of ink and diamond stars empty streets of just occasional cars
here we lie in a lullaby of the stillness in our room.
Words are unable to speak of love like a smile in a whisper does words are unable to speak of love like a smile in a whisper does.
All of the letters and all of the words in all of the books all over the world
they're nothing but sounds and vowels and nouns for talking to stranger that's all they're worth.
Words are unable to speak of love like a smile in a whisper does words are unable to speak of love like a smile in a whisper does.
Orchestra of tiny harps it's like pepper sprinkled on our hearts
we're threading a needle with boxing gloves when we try and talk about love.
Words are unable to speak of love like a smile in a whisper does words are unable to speak of love like a smile in a whisper does. "
last night, i got an email from my brother in law in canada. my sister was too distraught to tell me that my uncle (my father's brother) had passed away. the email didn't tell me how he had passed, just that he had and that if i had any contact info for my uncle's family, i should send our collective condolences.
at first, i wasn't sure he was gone. i thought maybe they'd heard wrong - maybe he was just sick and in the hospital. i remembered he'd had a stroke many years ago but recovered completely. it wasn't until a cousin called to confirm the news - that he had a heart attack at home and died - that i finally lost it and cried.
i finally got in touch with my uncle's son who told me that my uncle had come home complaining of feeling ill and had gone to bed earlier than usual. shortly thereafter, he got up and said that he couldn't breathe and collapsed. my aunt and cousin called 911. the ambulance arrived quickly and took him to the hospital, but they couldn't revive him.
this morning, i woke up feeling completely drained. it was almost as if by muscle memory, i showered and changed and then walked into the kitchen to make some eggs in a hole. and as i placed the egg carton on the kitchen counter, a memory flashed into my head.
i was back in my uncle's kitchen in LA. i was on vacation, still in high school. we were getting ready to do a tourist trek around LA/hollywood and the universal studio tour. he asked me if i wanted french toast. and i realized i'd never had french toast. growing up in a filipino home, i didn't get fruit punch or canned pasta or boxed cereal. my grandmother would often make a huge filipino meal that would last a few days - we'd eat the same thing for breakfast lunch and dinner. so i sat at the table and watched him break eggs in a bowl and beat them. he asked me if i knew how to cook yet. and i told him i was too afraid to cook. cooking had too many variables that i didn't think i could familiarize myself with...
that little reverie reminded me that this small act would really sum up my uncle: he who was never afraid to break some eggs to make an omelete (or french toast).
my earliest memories of my uncle are from my childhood summers in manila. although we regarded my uncle with the respect he was due, he acted like one of us kids. my wonderful father is/was the "serious" brother. where my father was a proud and accomplished engineer, my uncle had tried his hand at many jobs - a jack of all trades. when my father finished work, he took some time to relax before reconnecting with us at dinner. when my uncle arrived home from work, he wouldn't take a break, he'd talk to us, joke with us, run after us... often my lola (grandmother) would force me to eat weird concoctions, in an effort to shrink my hygroma. after a morning of downing a mixture with raw egg yolks, my uncle gathered us up and challenged us to climb a coconut tree and i'll never forget watching my brother race up the trunk like a gleeful monkey... :) i don't think it was possible to bore my uncle. he was easily amused and charming, but mellow and calm too.
later, he really seemed to embrace life in the states. he was a walking NFT guide for LA and NY when he lived in both cities. although my mother and i lived in the states, my father always complained about life in america, how different it was, how fast, how obscene, how depressing, etc...
i regret the last time i saw him in ny. i was in college, on vacation. i was trying to get any job i could in the garment industry. and in the wings, there was a boy in an up and coming indie rock band... i was drinking too much... the "highlight" of that visit was ending a night of alphabet city barhopping, kicking hypodermic needles around a playground... somehow, i got back to my uncle's apartment, bobbing, weaving, reeking of smoke and beer... and like the visit to LA, he was awake, smiling, in the kitchen, quietly making me a breakfast with eggs.... although i deserved it, he didn't preach or get angry, or argue or insult. he just told me he cared about me and was worried about me.
i couldn't believe it when he agreed to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day when my father couldn't make it. for some reason, he was nervous at the church. he was a little emotional. he fumbled a bit thru the filipino portion of the ceremony. but by the time the reception rolled around, he was up and dancing with the rest or us.
the last time i saw him was back in manila for my sister's wedding. he was one of her sponsors. he looked so handsome in his barong. he told jokes while we (the large entourage) all waited in the hot sun outside the church. at the reception, after my father's emotional speech, my uncle retold some funny, poignant and heartfelt stories from our family. and later when he set eyes upon the paloma, he joked with her and played with her like they were the oldest and bestest of friends. she was so excited to hear that he lived in america too. it absolutely breaks my heart that she won't get to know him...
i don't mean to lionize my uncle. he had weaknesses and faults. i'm sure his family had dysfunctions and resentments (like ours) due to extended absences overseas. and i don't mean to disparage my father or characterize him as cold or thoughtless - he isn't, he's quite the opposite.
i just wanted to say that my uncle winnie was a great role model for me. and he would want me to be courageous and break some eggs even if it meant i made a mess or something that required a hospital visit. he'd encourage me to machine sew blindfolded and try spelunking undersea... he would want me to relentlessly chase after something that might make me happy... just like him.
so, rest now, uncle winnie. for me. so i can catch up... :) i'll miss you very much...
my laptop was returned to me finally, repaired and functioning, over the weekend... there was much rejoicing in the 'zilla house! :)
in the meantime, i finished three more lamb drawings for my friend who is moving her family to peru. i believe the first lamb and the singular, curly lamb (standing in the snow) below are making their way to peru as i type...
speedy, safe, happy and healthy travels to you, bokumbop! can't wait to hear about you, J, T & L and your peruvian conquests!
i love that name.... sometimes i think it's underused as the generic name for an ice resurfacer... why don't we use " zamboni!" to express our joy in recognizing the little things that make our lives easier... like self adhesive stamps or pocket packs of kleenex... :)
speaking of ice resurfacing... one of the family nieces is hosting her birthday party at an ice rink. my stepsister asked me to make our niece's Springfield Doll something new to wear - of course, i responded, "how about an iceskating dress?". she replied, "that's perfect!" so, i made two from Butterick pattern 3329:
little known fact about mamazilla: i used to make dancewear and iceskating costumes for a local company - Designs By Valerry. it was a really extraordinary experience. my bosses and co-workers were lovely, knowledgable and totally laid back... i learned a LOT about garment construction, pattern making/drafting and sewing - especially for knits (a whole world outside of wovens) and decorative stuff/sequins/beading, etc...
i didn't have a lot of time to go fabric shopping so, i had to go with what i had at the local Joann's. my intuition told me to look for the stretch braid first since that's what's really hard to find... at least something that looks nice... especially in a small size for a doll...
of course, they didn't have any stretch trim (that wasn't hideous) in such a small size... and for stretch fabrics you should always have a stretch trim (please don't ask me why a doll would need a stretch fabric or stretch trim... it's not like she knows her movement is restricted...)
so, here is my tip o' the day: don't be afraid to buy stretch sequin trim that is too big:
you can always cut it down:
when you turn the stretch trim over you'll see that all three rows of sequin are chainstitched separately (see navy thread) and then looped together (see lt. blue thread)... just use a set of embroidery scissors or sewing nippers to clip the looping thread - NOT THE CHAINSTITCH. you'll have three single chains of sequin in no time... also, make sure when you machine stitch it down, you a) use transparent thread as your top thread b) you stitch the sequins so they are lying down properly... just feel them thru your fingers - one way they fly up, another way, they lay down flat, like fish scales... ZAMBONI! :)
and i'm off... back to the lamb drawing board i go...
i had a lot of ideas for "renenwal" but i didn't have a whole lot of time, since i'm also working on some lamb drawings per a very dear friend's request. she and her husband are moving their beautiful family to peru and asked if i would draw some lambs for her daughter. i'm so excited for my friend and her new adventure... a little worried for her too since i know how daunting a crosstown move can be... i can't even wrap my brain around a cross continent move....
so... renewal is rebirth is regneration is reincarnation, etc... and without getting too catholic on you, lambs are often used as a symbol of renewal...
also, without the religious context - if i remember correctly, lambs are "naturally" born in the spring when there is grass growing and their mothers can produce milk... spring, nature, life cycle, renewal, yada yada yada...
ennyhoo... thanks for stopping by... hope you liked my little ramble & doodle....
(unfortunately, because my scanner is so small, i couldn't scan the entire image for you... hopefully, i'll have a new scanner by the weekend. and can rescan/upload again... or feel free to donate your old yet operating scanner to me! ;))
usually, i think "outside the box" when i get a prompt like pioneer. i didn't want to draw the archetypal westward bound american pioneer.
at first i saw images of lone figures in desperate landscapes... but i wasn't really inspired... then, i considered illustrating some pioneering fashion like issey miyake or thierry mugler or some harajuku or steampunk fashion... still nothing came to me...
so, i went back to the idea of the frontiersmen, the gold rush pan handlers, the chuck wagons and cowboys... one of my prized books in my fashion/costume book collection is "what people wore - a visual history of dress" by douglas gorsline. often the fashion history books give only what was trendy/fashionable from the time period, not necessarily what was worn everyday. gorsline's book on the other hand, illustrates a large cross section of the everyday clothes worn by different economic/social classes from ancient times until the early 1920s.
among the the characters depicted in the frontier/plains sections of the book were the outlaws and amongst them were some infamous ladies - Rose Dunn aka Rose of the Cimarron, Martha Jane Canary-Burke aka Calamity Jane and Pearl Hart.
i wondered what the childhoods of those three ladies were like and what if anything from their pasts informed the choices they made later in life...
i also wonder (a lot) about my own children and their future... and what, if anything, might make them turn into notorious outlaws... especially since they often perpetrate crimes and misdemeanors ending in multiple time outs already... but that's a whole other post for another day...
anyhoo... there it is... my truncated, unfinished (i still plan on coloring and shading in) and somewhat disturbing immortalization to some pioneering "bad girls".
and btw - best wishes for a happy new years eve, everyone! and a bright, peaceful and inspiring 2010!
just wanted to send out my best heartfelt wishes for a peaceful, relaxing, bright healthy and happy holiday season, and the same for the coming year! thank you so much for coming here to read my ramblings and for leaving comments. you help me to keep writing and continually challenge/inspire my creative process! :)
re: the basket of toys above:
almost every year, my (very large) family says that we won't exchange christmas presents... that we'll be "allowed" to buy a $15 secret santa present... and then, every year, everyone (exept me - i play by the rules. sometimes...) still goes and buys everyone else a present.
this year, i didn't buy a secret santa present. partly, because our funds were very low. but in the event that my family still ends up overbuying... i made a buch of bears for the kids in the family. (the pattern can be found in the book Toys to Sew by designer Claire Garland). For the adults, i made a banana/walnut/cherry bread and a compilation cd of swing/jazz/big band christmas music.
anyhoo... i have a few more bears and breads to make... and presents to wrap... and even the last handful of holiday cards to address and post... children to mind, feed, care for, clean and dress for the aforementioned family party... and i haven't even showered myself yet...
ah, the holidays - they don't kill you, they make you stronger... :)
i just made "megan's ruffled neck warmer" designed by megan b. wright. unfortunately, i had to use a set of size 7s - as they're the smallest straight needles i have... so, the scarf itself is not nearly as dense as i would like... very noodle-y... the ruffle however, still billows and undulates... it's entertaining...
so, i will have to cave and buy yet another set of needles... and make another. shucky darn! :) the pattern is from 101 designer one-skein wonders edited by judith durant.
i've been very good about NOT buying armfuls of yarn for no reason as of late... although, i am guilty of bringing home an itty-bitty-yarny-clearance-binny-somethin'-somethin'... to add to my growing collection of random string... lying in wait... like dust bunnies... in this drawer, that bag, and this other box, etc... and i also have orphaned vintage buttons that are just crying out to be used on something like this...
so, it took me a couple of years (no joke)... but i finally finished these warm and toasty legwarmers... just in time for our first blizzard of the year... :)
they were super easy to make... but for whatever reason (two children, house foreclosure, moving stress) i couldn't get myself motivated to finish the second leg warmer after i zipped thru the first one...
i used 4 skeins of filatura di crosa malizioso yarn, bought from my friend carol's shop - my sisters' knits. i cast on 56 stitches, divided evenly among 3 needles. i used 4 size 8 DPNs. (then, i should've placed a marker for the beginning of the round but i didn't. my bad.) then, i just knitted a rib - K2, P2 - for 24" and bound off.
when i first thought of "crunchy" i thought of snow... and after a few failed and uninspired attempts at drawing that... i thought of a zombie eating a bowl of bones... another idea that also failed to materialize...
and then, i actually heard a "crunching" sound and found my son eating a lollipop. and that reminded me of this:
so, i put my son in glasses, an owl hat and a graduation cap eating an orange tootsie pop. :) he kinda looks like harry potter though... not quite what i was going for.
...the first thing that came to mind when i read "entangled" was knitting when my hair was still long - past my waist. it often tangled up in my knitting, but i didn't mind, it made the scarf or hat even more a part of me...
"..as much as the magazines make motherhood look pretty, and it often is awesome, it's also fucking hard, and we're tired, and we get slammed both for working and for not working, for paying both too much and too little attention to our children. And for all the relentless, glaring focus on individual mothers and their "choices," someone -- just ask MomsRising -- forgot to figure out a way to give our families paid leave and affordable health and child care, to which yes, mothers in the United States should be entitled. We're not saying we deserve a seat more than you do. But we would like to raise our children in a culture that is more generous to everyone..."
i've been listening to aimee mann's "@#%&*! Smilers" and her song, phoenix, has been on my mind a lot... sometimes, i actually skip it... so i think maybe it's just a sign for me to write it... out? off? away?
anyway, the lyrics remind me (and probably everyone else) of a former flame - mine was a fine, young man from arizona. we were together for a few years... here in chicago and later, in san francisco. (BTM - before thin man.)
we met as mutual friends/parts of an artsy circle from college - film folks who worked with costume folks who talked shop with fashion design folks, etc... we drank. we dated. we threw caution to the wind and moved in together too fast...
but, i firmly believe we really and truly loved. i have such lovely memories of reading books together under blankets and hats in our apartment with no working heater... collaborating on work - my words/poetry, my body swipe, even the apartment made appearances in his short ambient films... al fresco picnics on blankets... a lot of sunny laughter and music... even the dark days when there was a small death... with day after night of regret and despair.... contemplating marriage and babies and cats... so much discovery and wonder and heavy thinking... and saying i love you and meaning it...
i moved to san francisco first... for work. there was even a teary "frank capraesque" see ya later at a train station platform and everything...
and our plan was for him to come out when he graduated.... which he did. and then a few months later, he decided to move to los angeles... for work. there was a teary goodbye... and then he actually came back after only a few minutes away, crying... saying he couldn't leave... it was very cameron crowe... it was hard for me to let go too.
but i got him to leave and then, we blundered our way thru a breakup... slowly... and over a handful of awkward long distance phonecalls...
and this is where aimee mann reminds me:
"i don't want to abandon you, but baby i've had my fill....
and if you get the chance again... i know you'd do the best you can. but baby love doesn't change anything at all. i know love doesn't change a thing"
'cause what neither of us was ready to accept, even though it was painfully evident - was that we were over. that we were headed in different directions. that the love was still there, but love wasn't going to change where our lives were taking us...
looking back now, i'm glad we met. and loved. and lost each other at last.
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