Lurleen

About a month ago, Lurleen died. As a result, I haven't felt like blogging.

I don't know how much I've mentioned her before, but she's always been an inspiration.

That's not to say I haven't been knitting, I have, but it's been to cope and pass time. I've hidden myself away in blanket squares (53 down, 43 to go). I did finish an Alan Dart pattern, which I call my Grief Cat. Following her death, that was the pattern I decided get lost in. It ate up more focus than the blanket squares, which means more stitch counting and less sobbing, but it was also enough of a pause from my own patterns. I wasn't quite ready for business as usual until recently.

I haven't really shared the news online if only to also avoid any "Rest in Peace" comments and things of that nature while the reality sank in. Not because I don't appreciate the sentiment behind them, but because they never make much sense to me. She's not really resting or doing anything. Her body has been reduced to ashes and they're in a pretty little overpriced urn on my bookshelf. That's the reality of it, peace or not. Maybe the peace is what I'm supposed to be left with? I don't know. Pragmatism and mourning don't always work well together. 

Lately, her absence has been as big as her presence. I'm just getting to the point where I don't anticipate her yelling for her breakfast each morning and when I don't expect to feel her head-butt my leg, letting me know I'm paying too much attention to the computer screen and not enough to her.

For those of you who don't know who she is--or rather, was--Lurleen was obviously my cat. I was more inclined to call her my little sis, because that's how my mom always referred to us--as one another's "sis". She made it to seventeen, which is the oldest of any pet I've had in the past. 

Since I moved out on my own--and even for much of when we both lived at my parents' house--she was my constant companion. When I'd return home from work or anywhere, there she was. When I moved from my first apartment, to the cottage, to Puffit's house, which was modified so the both of us had ample space, Lurleen was with me. I saved her life and she gave me a reason to hold on to mine, even when I felt at my loneliest. At times when I really couldn't find reasons why I mattered and whether my existence made much of a difference, I still had to stick around. Who else would take care of Lurleen?

She was anxious, assertive, overweight, melodramatic, and was also very talkative, playful and affectionate with the few she humans she trusted. We were a lot alike. For as long as she and I shared a home and the sweet, sweet solitude on which we thrived, she lived a healthy, mellow and rather spoiled life. She seemed comfortable and content right up until the last hour. I had to make a decision that I was prepared to make. I thought I was also prepared for everything that would come after: life without her. That part is still a learning process. Turns out, I wasn't so prepared for that--the part were mourning gets replaced by memories, little by little. 

That said, it is time to get back to work. I'll have a pattern for you with the next update. Here are the techniques you'll need if you want to try it out:

Knit-in-the-Round

Cast on 

Knit

 Purl

Knit Front and Back

Knit Two Together

I-Cord

Bind off

Pretty basic stuff and easy to find tutorials for if you're unfamiliar. If you've never done a knit-in-the-round project and you enjoy some amigurumi, this might be a good starting point. I hope you'll like it. 

What Happened?

Where are the paintings? What's with the knitting?

As mentioned in the previous post, a bit has changed. I'm not sure if anyone read this blog back when it was about art and I'm not sure if anyone will read it now that things have gotten a little softer and fuzzier, but just in case, I supposed I should give a little explanation on the transition.

I'm afraid I have to admit it's because of a boy.

Somewhere between my last art posts, I took on a rather time-consuming temp writing gig. While it wasn't a longterm solution to my little unemployment issue, it was quite lucrative. A big reason for that was the very long hours. It didn't leave me with much time to paint or draw, nor was it terribly motivating in any creative or entrepreneurial sense. I however did manage to resume my dating process, which was a process I also wan't terribly motivated to maintain-- as I've alluded to in previous posts.

That's when the aforementioned boy, or rather man in his early thirties, entered the picture. A first date led to a second, led to a third, and so and so forth and now I'm writing this from my little cave inside his house, where I now live. To aid his futile pursuit of internet anonymity, I'm going to refer to him as "Puffits". That's what he called me while leaving for work the other day. It's a sleepy brained garbling of "pie", "muffins", and who knows whatever other baked goods that he tends to use in place of my name. As I write this now, the art days me would gag at the prospect. Part of me still does, but I love Puffits. I love Puffits enough to have uprooted much of what my life was back then. It was a gradual uprooting and it's where the knitting shift comes in.

Being in a relationship with a fellow homebody who's also inclined toward compulsive productivity--as I was/am with Puffits--we had/have this tendency to work on individual projects adjacently. This led me to focus on my more portable hobbies. I still painted, but when traveling from my cottage to Puffit's house and vice-versa, my watercolors just didn't travel as well as a crochet hook and yarn. So that's where most of my creative energies went, prompting Puffits to buy me this book.

  Oh, this looks right up my alley! Look at that little bird in the lower right there.

Well aren't you cute? You're actually really cute. I kind of can't stop looking at you little bird...

I think…Yes, I MUST HAVE YOU!

But there was a problem. Lesley Stanfield's "Blue Tit" pattern was a knitting pattern!  At the time, I thought perhaps I could adapt it and create a crochet version. It's all just stitches after all, and I had improvised shapes with crochet plenty of times in the past. How hard could it be to make something just like it?

As I studied the pattern, learned what the knitting abbreviations and techniques meant (something I've barely done with any sort of fiber art pattern as someone who crochets "by eye" and "by feel) it soon occurred to me that in order to get the results I needed, I would just have to learn to knit.

I cluelessly picked up some supplies and turned to text, image and video tutorials--not in that order. I quickly gave up when it seemed I couldn't stop my hands from trying to used a needle like a crochet hook when attempting to cast-on. As Puffits watched me grumble and growl at YouTube's vast community of knitting teachers, I told him that knitting simply wasn't for me.

There's just too much going on with knitting. How could two needles not be terribly complicated compared to just one hook? And to make a round object you need even more needles?! With points on each end?! That's just crazy. Knitters are knitters, and crocheters are crocheters. Some may dabble back and forth like ambidextrous freaks, but not me. I'm a crochet girl and that's all there is too it! Surely there's no shame in giving up, not when I can already do so much with crochet. Best to just focus on that.

Ugh! Damn your cuteness! I STILL MUST HAVE YOU!

It took me weeks. This helped quite a bit, just as the crochet version did back when I wanted to build on the skills not yet learned by the time grandmother died. I will never run out of reasons to miss that woman. As I learned how to cast on, knit, then garter, the purl, then stockinette, then bind off, I didn't bother with anything other than little practice swatches. No scarves, no dish cloths, no blanket squares. There was only pattern I focused on--just one project that would be my first. I would learn only what I needed to make that damn bird, nothing more, nothing less!

The process was nerve-wracking then and the results make me cringe when I look at them now.

That sorry-looking bird ended up in a very special place--I'm not referring Puffit's side of the bookshelf, which is where it is because I don't want it on my side--it's that place between okay and awful. That first bird was okay enough to show me I could do it, essentially. It was okay enough to teach me what I needed to do the next time. It was also awful enough to make me want to do better, to prove that I could do better. So that's what I kept trying to do, again…

and again...

and again...

obviously, with a few modifications along the way.

And I haven't really stopped since. I still do paint on occasion. I also made a brief shift into sketch portraits, which became a serious learning experience unto itself, just as knitting continues to be.

That experience is what I plan covering from this point forward, using the term "plan" loosely. As I said way up at the beginning of this post, I'm not sure if anyone read this then, and I'm not sure if they'll read it now, but I'm going to try not to think about that either way… but, if they did and if they do, I hope they--and you--will stay with me for whatever happens next.

Well This Is Different

Rosemarsh, a murky bog of a blog about art has become Rosemarsh Knits and More. It will be different but it will also be kind of the same.

A bit has changed but there may be more on that later, or at least it will become more apparent later. I hope you'll stick around for it!

Rosemarsh Sale!

From August 15th through September 15th, use this coupon code: MARSH01 to get 15% off anything in the Rosemarsh Etsy shop

For those of you who've never attempted to sell on Etsy, or if you're one of those incomparable sellers who has never had an item sit in your store for more than four months, you may not be aware of Etsy's relisting/renewing racket.  The folks over at Esty Bitch and Surviving the Etsy Madness do a better job of explaining it than I could.  I also don't want to use this blog to become too outspoken on Etsy... yet;  not when I'm still connecting with wonderful fellow artists and artisans, who like Jane Sloss, I'd love to feature and promote in the near future.  Alienating them is the last thing I want to do.

While the relisting and renewing cost can payoff for some sellers by bumping them to the front of a search listing, I've found paintings are far too subjective to really benefit from a keyword search, at least not in the way items such as jewelry and handcrafts would.  Even if you're at the top of the list for your subject matter, there's too much make-or-break in the old personal taste factor. And frankly, Etsy just isn't that great a marketplace for original artwork.  I believe there are better venues out there but sadly they don't get the buyer traffic.

Rather than pay Etsy to do nothing more than it's done for me for another four months, which is collect several fees for actually managing to sell something that is not a disassembled typewriter or scarf worn by a Brooklynite who appears to be suffering from malnutrition, I'm going to pass lost profitability onto actual people.

Offering this discount gives me a chance to break just a little less than even on these paintings, prints and cards.  It gives me a change to produce more, and better, work by providing me with just enough overhead and motivation to produce new stuff.  Most importantly, it means my work might hang in someone's space and serve some small positive purpose, rather than sit so I can pay Etsy yet another quarterly fee for doing nothing in return.

So starting Monday, take advantage of the markdown. If you've had your eye on any Rosemarsh pieces, I thank you sincerely for your interest alone.  Believe me, I know how tight money is for all of us, but that's just another reason to drop a hint, bat your eyelashes and share link with someone who owes you a nice gift.  I don't think it's specified in my store policy, but at this point, I will gift wrap by request!

That's enough icky business talk for one day.  To close, here are my top five art-centric Kids in the Hall sketches. Enjoy!

The Very Necessary and Precise Task of Eating Cupcakes

A good friend of mine recently had a birthday.  She's always been one of those genuinely supportive friends-- the type that gives you a thumbs-up or drops you a "good luck" when the cynical, broken, husk of your former self isn't expecting it from anyone.  She's promoted my stuff without me even having to ask, and she does it time and time again, past the point where I'm sick of talking about it.  She's always one of the first to get behind what I'm doing, even when I suspect she's unsure sure of what it's really about, because often I'm not sure of it.  So to wish her a happy birthday, I wanted to paint something original, even if humble.

See, she's also one of those cupcake people.

You know those cupcake people.  Since this is the Internet, odds are very good that you are one.  Cupcake people love everything and anything that is cupcakes, every aspect of em, the process and paraphernalia.  I don't even think it's about the cupcake as a food item, but rather an object in and of itself.  I can't help but think there are cupcake people that might be severely diabetic, missing their tongue, teeth and both hands, also they don't own ovens, but they would still enjoy and celebrate the very existence of cupcakes.

Personally, I prefer the communal and disassembly-required cake.  Maybe that's because the cake is more inline with the traditional canvas or blank scroll for the artist/writer.  Maybe it's the complexity and mystery of the varying layers.  Maybe, and far more likely, it's that a cake is just one thing to prepare and decorate rather than a series of small things... things that usually require some uniformity or theme among them.  A cake is a single project that's often challenging yet fulfilling, and can be completed without several espresso breaks.  Icing a batch of cupcakes is six to six-hundred tedious, tiny and nerve-wrecking projects.  Making cupcakes requires either waking up at or stay up until 3:00 in the morning.  I am not a cupcake person, but I credit them for their resilience in the face of repetition and the refilling of piping bags.

Painting a cupcake is a bit different, and I have to admit, getting the reference shots for this painting was very enjoyable.  It left me with a sweet and spongy layer of fatty guilt, which is one of the best types of guilt.      

I'm something of an inverted dieter, meaning what most people refer to as dieting must be a constant state for me rather than a periodic endeavor.  Between that late twenties plunge of an already crap metabolism, unfortunate genetics, and the very sedentary nature of many of my hobbies and usual career circumstances, I have to be something of a calorie nazi with myself-- especially if I want to stay under a second-airline-seat or TLC-reality-series level of fatness.  It's annoying and it sucks but it's the reality for me.  As a result,  I've gotten a pretty good handle on the calories-in vs. calories-out tedium that will keep me from ever returning to my high school weight.  I know that's the reverse goal of most people but my prom dress was a size thirty-two, nine sizes larger than my current dress size.

That said, there are occasions in which the definition of indulgence gets a little blurred.  Sometimes indulgence means allowing a package of pasta in the cottage or accidentally letting those extra croutons fall onto my spinach salad.  Other times indulgence means... well, indulgence.  Specifically, buying cupcakes and having to eat one or two, albeit systematically, for the sake of a painting.

The best subjects King Kullen's bakery had to offer the unemployed painter. 

Not wanting to travel to ritzy Huntington Village, to one of those smancy bakeries or cafes where cupcakes are the size of soup mugs, under a bulletproof showcase and sold individually for around $12.00 each, I picked the best my grocery's bakery had for sale.  I have to say, in addition to paying $2.50 for the half dozen, I was glad to have some leeway for bite screw-ups.  If I smudged the icing swirl on one, I had five others with which I could try, try again. I had multiple sprinkle and icing configurations to choose from, and a chance to see which icing flavor would better hold a bite mark.  These cupcakes were also on the smaller side, giving some semblance of restraint and sensibility to this yummy project.

Like the "Brewing" photography session, setting the shoot was easy enough: formerly-unstained white tablecloth and a white mat board gave me a simple background.  The tricky part would be keeping the cupcake in the same spot and keeping it as upright as possible as its mass and stability decreased. (While my mass increased-- ha, beat ya to the joke!)

Since I wanted to keep the icing light and give contrast to the rainbow sprinkles, my first victim was vanilla. I intended to keep the icing vanilla for the painting but eventually switched over to pink. The painted shadow on the vanilla with a white background made the flavor feel gray.  I'm sure you can do some lovely things with a gray cupcake, but that's not what I'm going for with this painting.

On top of feeling guilty for simply eating the cupcakes, I have to admit the photo process started to feel a little creepy and predatory.  Carefully evaluating each cupcake to select the most appealing, placing it on a precise spot on the table and peeling back the wrapper so the ruffles were just right, exposing the soft cake-- it just seemed so... wrong.  I'd be capturing the slow, methodically dismemberment of this little subject, all the while experiencing a shameful enjoyment.  If there's such a thing as cupcake snuff, I think this is it.

This photo shouldn't feel dirty but it sure does now... Anyways.

Even though the vanilla iced victim had more the look I was seeking, chocolate icing did a better job of holding that essential bite mark.  If you've ever looked at the photos on the side of a Mr. Softee truck, you've probably noticed how critical a role the bite mark plays in the advertisement.  A ice cream bar without a bite mark is just a brown rectangle with a stick jutting out.  A well defined bite mark is what makes it a sweet staple of all that is summer time goodness.

  
This is where it started to get a little hard to maintain stability on all fronts-- from keeping the wrapper flat, to standing the cupcake upright with enough of the top and sprinkles still in view. Since I lack air conditioning at the cottage, and this being a July day, I had to work efficiently before the icing got a little droopy-- because that's what happens to delicious fat in the heat.  And as we all know, delicious fat is an essential part of cupcake icing.

Back to vanilla since the icing on this single bite shot was actually better than the chocolate counterpart.

And with that last, spent piece and those few brave clinging sprinkles, the cupcake was impossible to keep upright in either shot.

And there you have the empty, stained wrapper.  A metaphor for oh-so many things.  Things I don't want to think about, but do and will.  Boy this post got a little dark.  I have the urge to go wash my hands and brush my teeth... maybe I should take a shower. Ugh.

Chicago Artist and Fellow Etsy Seller, Jane Sloss - A Look at Her Work and Process

Just a few short weeks ago, a fellow artist and Etsy seller by the name of Jane Sloss was kind and generous enough to make me a featured artist on her blog.  I'm in very good company, as Jane has featured many talented individuals.  It was super exciting!

Naturally, I had to interview and feature Jane here, not only because it's the least I could do to show my appreciation, but because I am genuinely interested in her work and her process.  The more I've examined my own stuff over the thus brief life of this blog, the more I've become curious about other painters and craftsfolk.  And while I probably seem a little too good at blogging about my own crap, it was way more interesting to hear from someone more established with such a unique source of inspiration.  

So here's a closer look at Jane's inspiration, process, a few lovely pieces... and her feelings on beets:

Jane, according to your blog, you’re not a fan of beets.  Is it a taste or a texture thing?  For example, would you be okay with beet-flavored pasta, as in veggie rotini? Also, please tell us about yourself.

I’ve tried to love Beets.  For two summers I had a great CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share through a farm called Growing Home.  I loved supporting local agriculture, but struggled to love beets (which we got a lot of).  I guess it’s the flavor to which I object.  I did find one recipe I really liked: Cold Beet Soup with a scoop of basil lime sorbet.  About me, I’m Chicago-based watercolor painter and architect. My adventures in painting and architecture have taken me all over the country. Prior to Chicago, I spent a year living in a town of 2,000 people in West Alabama and designing a prototype for rural, affordable housing. I appreciate the pure pleasure and meditative qualities of painting, as well as the opportunity it offers to chart our course through life, our interests, our evolving abilities.

Logan Square - I completed this painting after spending part of a Saturday afternoon walking along the stretch of Milwaukee Avenue, which cuts through the Logan Square neighborhood, in Chicago.  I have spend a lot of time along this stretch in Logan Square, traversing Milwaukee on Logan Boulevard to visit friends, enjoying lovely dinners at Lula (a favorite café), attending several good concerts and one bad concert at Logan Auditorium, and indulging in many affordably delicious Mexican dinners at El Cid.  I find that in creating compositions I am often drawn to that which feels familiar and therefore nostalgic. This painting of Logan Square is a pleasantly familiar reminder of the interwoven history I’m creating in Chicago through experience and memory.

Your architectural interest really comes across in your work.  Are there specific structural or perspective elements you seek out when creating a painting?  It is just a matter of what catches your eye at a particular moment in time?  In other words, do you chase after your work or does it find you?

My background in architecture definitely informs my painting work.  Specifically, I tend to be drawn to composition, spatial relationships, and the interaction of light with the built form.  In the early stages of an architectural project I am often required to document the context surrounding the proposed building site, the existing related resources, and the vernacular architecture.  This background is sometimes activated in researching and selecting the subject matter for paintings.  I'm generally fascinated by light. It was a Winslow Homer exhibit several years ago at the Art Institute, in Chicago, that inspired me to dedicate more energy to painting.  Homer had an incredible mastery of light.  When I’m looking at the built environment, I tend to be drawn to the scenes where the light is creating an interesting effect.  I am also interested in compression and expansion that we experience when in moving through urban spaces.  It is wonderful to go from a really narrow, possibly dark alley, into a big open plaza—very dramatic!  I tend to go after work with intention.  Riding my bike around the city, taking photographs, making notes.  When I actually sit down to paint though, I find that I my mood often trumps the best laid plans and I end up painting that which has inspired me that day.

Frozen Lake - While making this painting of a frozen lake I was thinking of what Andrew's Wyeth has written about fall and winter, "I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.  Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show."  I have a similar feeling about the winter months.  Our emotions and our perceptions of the world around us seem just a bit clearer, a bit crisper, and perhaps a bit closer to surface, without the lushness of the summer foliage.  In creating this image, I enjoyed the beauty of the dawn light bathing the frozen lake as it cracks dramatically.

Do you work from life, photographs, notebook sketches? Do you listen to music or make sure to have a cup of coffee nearby? Can you briefly take us through your process, painter’s ritual, or any quirks that take you from a blank canvas to a finished painting?

I love working from life, particularly painting outside.  I learned to paint during a year spent studying Rome, as an architecture student.  During that year, I spent many hours sketching and painting in the piazze of Rome and other Italian cities and towns—there is nothing quite the same as sitting in the sun, painting a beautiful duomo or palazzo.  Living in Chicago, though, there are many months when painting outside is impossible.  Last November, I reconfigured my studio space a bit.  I think it is important to create a warm, inviting space in which to work.  I definitely love to sit down with a cup of coffee early in the morning or sometimes a glass of red wine after dinner and dive into a painting project.  I tend to listen to podcasts a lot when I paint, perennially This American Life and recently a podcast called WTF.

The way you use a muted color pallet makes your work very recognizable and distinct. After viewing the paintings in your shop, I’m sure I could pick out a Jane Sloss from across a room.  Has this always been a conscious style choice?  Was it something that evolved over time?

In addition to sketching and painting in Rome, I learned to paint in the Beaux-Arts style as an architecture student.  This meant painting large sheets (24”x30”) to render my architectural designs.  The work tended to involve meticulous depiction of the building components and many layers of watercolor washes.  A muted pallet seemed appropriate in creating these renderings.  As my painting style evolved, I think I continued to be drawn to what felt like the somewhat ethereal aesthetic of delicate watercolor washes.

West Cortland Square - I have often quoted Nelson Algren, who said that loving Chicago, is "like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real."  This quote so aptly summarizes the delight of Chicago for me. I was mindful of that quotation as I made this painting of an uncelebrated spot on West Cortland Street, in Chicago. From this vantage point on an old truss bridge, one can see the old Finkel Steel Factory, the north branch of the Chicago River and the Chicago skyline. This scene is on the surface "broken": the factory which no longer functions a reminder of the decay of Chicago's industrial past, the river likely fouled by pollution, the vegetation un-manicured. The image is simultaneously so lovely in its "real-ness." The vibrance of the color of the rusting metal panels, the freedom in the wildness of the trees and vines, the reflected light of the river, and the grandeur of Chicago's skyline. I am often drawn to images which embody history as this image does. In a country where we often encounter the newness of strip malls, condo buildings, and arenas named for corporations, there is great appeal in the places, which tell a story of an earlier time.

I commend you on the texture and feel of your urban pieces—all those bricks and windows rendered with such truth.  Do you find these repetitive elements an enjoyable or relaxing part of painting or a bit of an undertaking?

I don’t mind painting hundreds or thousands of bricks as necessary to complete a painting.  I do find that it meditative.  It’s easy to get lost in thought or perhaps to allow the repetitive motion to quiet my mind a bit.

Chicago Christmas Lights - I made this painting in December of 2009 as a reflection on the change in season.  December in  Chicago tends to be marked by the initial shock of the crisp, cold air. The bare trees and low winter sun can make the city feel stark and clear. The start of winter also brings the twinkle of Christmas lights mingling with the glimmer of the Chicago skyline and snowflakes fluttering gracefully to the ground. Fresh snow coats the trees, each branch left glistening white. The snow reflects light and the newness of the season on gray winter days. Unlike the bleakness of the days which come after several months of icey coldness, on December days I often feel refreshed by the change in season, sentimental about winters past, and hopeful.

As someone who has never been to Chicago, it’s enjoyable to visit it through your eyes.  Can you tell us more about your relationship with this city?  What makes it such a prominent subject for you?

Chicago certainly does provide my largest source for artistic inspiration.  I think I feel particularly connected to the city because of my background.  Growing up, my family moved six times, so I never really had a city I called “home.”  When I moved to Chicago almost four years ago, I felt that I had found a place I could call home forever (or at least the foreseeable future).  I find myself wanting to invest in the Chicago by developing a social network, exploring its neighborhoods, and creating work, which reflects the city. The unique architectural character of Chicago’s neighborhoods, diverse cultural influences, and the natural beauty of the city parks and Lake Michigan provide me with artistic inspiration.  My recent work through the Western Avenue series has been focused on documenting the portions of the city, which are not consider traditionally glamorous or beautiful.  These hidden corners of Chicago and other cities are a reflection of the spirit and humanness of the place, the positive and the negative.  My objective is that my paintings feel honest, as well as recognizing the ambiguity and complexity of truthful images.

And last but not least, do you have any advice or seeds of artistic wisdom you’d like to impart to any readers out there?

My only advice would be that if you want painting or another art form to be a part of your life, pursue it with intention.  About four years ago, I decided that I wanted watercolor painting to be a bigger part of my life and have found that unexpected opportunities may come if you develop your art through regular practice and intentionality.

Many thanks to Jane for sharing her wonderful artwork and for her thoughtful answers to my questions!

Make sure to view Jane's watercolor paintings and handmade wedding invitations and accessories storefronts on Etsy.  You can commission a custom piece. 

If you or someone you know has a wedding in the works, check out some of her hand-painted invites and maps.

Don't forget to visit her blog: A Good Day's Work: Jane Sloss | Watercolor paintings and get the latest on her awesome, twenty-four piece Western Avenue Series.  The series is nearing the halfway mark and in expected to exhibit in 2012.

You can also stay updated on Jane's work by joining her official Facebook page.  Drop her a post, or better yet, own some of her great work!