Bright Lights, Big City: Part I

For much of my life I have had the grave misfortune of living in my parents' American dream: the clean tidy life of the the suburb. In high school I vowed to never return to the "little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky." (This a folk song of the 60's I used to play on my folky wannabe guitar.) Unfortunately life played me a dirty trick, and that's exactly where I have been for the majority of my years. (But we'll rant on that another day.)


My point here is that whenever I get the chance, I reenergize with a trip to one extreme or the other--pristine country or the lights and crazy energy of the big city. I happen to live on the edge of farm country Indiana, but only an hour door to door with downtown Chicago, and that is where my siggy, Dave, and I spent a fine holiday weekend sucking in so much city energy we can live off the power of it for the rest of the month.


Our long weekend was based on a yearly work-related party that gives us an excuse to have to be in the heart of Mich Ave the first weekend of December. But the real fun has nothing to do with a stuffy dinner dance in a crazy commercial hotel. Really it's all about reconnecting with art and architecture, shopping beyond the mall, and bundling up and walking everywhere until we can't walk another step.

Nothing like a mug of hot wine to cozy up the out of doors

Fortunately our time in town coincided with some wonderful events. Arriving late morning on Friday, we checked in to our boutique hotel, a place that affords some personal attention and lovely extras (like a complementary wine hour), and headed off to stop No.1, the Christkindlemart. This is an open air German market (run by native Germans) where the main activity, if you are not buying carved wood tsotchkes and glass ornaments, is a lunch like this: hot melting chocolate soft pretzel for appetizer, steaming potato pancakes with apple sauce and sour cream, washed down with mugs of hot spiced wine. Barely noon, and all of Daley Plaza filled with calorie sated, tipsy international and American tourists, and workers on their lunch breaks (hopefully not drinking).

Beautiful paper lanterns help warm the spirit

Next stop, art supply heaven (for a girl from the land of Michael's), Blicks in person: ruling pen, black Procion dye, absorbent ground, jewelry pliers, a water brush with a tiny tip. Happy Hanukkah to me! The Chicago Architecture Foundation, which runs some fine boat tours in season, has a fabulous gift shop of all things architecture. Kept us busy looking for quite a while, but left with wallet unscathed, and just a coloring book of the designs of Charles Rennie Mackintosh.

The famous lions of The Art Institute don't need funny hats to stay warm

Ahhh, the Art Institute, a formidable presence. You could spend days there exploring all the nooks and crannies, special exhibits and activities, but as a member, I feel no need to do more than say "Hi" to my faves: the Thorne miniature rooms decorated for the holidays, the magnificently restored and reinstalled Chagall's America Windows. We'd yet to see the new Modern Wing, and while less than impressed with the gallery offerings, sat upstairs in the lounge as the sun descended, soaking in caffeine and modern lines.

The Chicago faces of Millenium Park face off. These are actually a pair of   water spitting fountains in  the summer, which delight the children who play in the catch basin.

Cloud Gate (know as "The Bean") reflects the Michigan Avenue skyline

Heading North along Michigan Avenue just after sunset.

My handsome man overlooking the ice rink.

The walk back to the hotel necessarily deserved a detour through Millennium Park, which we rarely see in its nighttime glory.  For dinner, we finally crossed the river to eat at Bin 36, a lovely wine centric restaurant nestled behind the famous condo towers of Marina City, the House of Blues and the Hotel Sax. We sampled wine flights (Chianti and Beyond), shared some heavenly bison fillet on polenta, and finished with a cheese flight (Cows Through the Ages.)

The final scene, well that would be me in the hotel window seat, and my skyline sketch.  A perfect end to an amazing Day I.

Pssst! I Wanna Show You Something

As usual I had a story to tell this week. I'd have liked for it to have the beginning, middle, and end it deserves. I'd prefer there be a bit of a philosophical bend and some humor to make it enjoyable. But just now I want to share a little part of the tale, even if it is out of order and not so slickly conceived. The story is this...

I am excited about this art thing. I have finished a first drawing/painting class with some good work and the confidence that I can continue to grow, and I have made a promise to myself (and you) that I will continue this journey...and I am! I have joined the Yahoo group EverydayMatters (EDM) which is an offshoot of Danny Gregory's book by that name. I have taken my "ink only" sketchbook on a weekend out of town, and drawn...twice! And today I have taken my first EDM weekly challenge subject and painted a page in my Moleskine sketchbook which has been waiting patiently for my return since August. I am on a roll. 

I am the first to admit that my sketches are pretty rough and that the journal page made use of media I am unskilled in or that didn't work as well on the paper as I would have liked.  Even so, I am thrilled to have done these things. I am sharing them with you to prove that I am doing this drawing thing for the experience of seeing my world in a new light, and not because I expect to be a critically acclaimed talent from day one. 

Comfortably ensconced in the window seat of my hotel room on the eleventh floor overlooking some excellent downtown Chicago views

The Willis Tower (formerly known as the Sears Tower)
is central to this particular view.

The sketch: making the best of a very complex subject and done in a very short time.

The magic window seat is inside those curtains. 

I drew this view the following morning when the robe was on the chair. The heavy curtains are partly opened with a view to the window seat through the dotted sheers.

As members of the "frequent users club" at Kimpton hotels, we usually receive a little gift. This last trip we could "raid" the mini bar for $10 worth of goods (up to two items). This tiny stuffed goldfish represents the Monaco pet friendly policy. Since we don't travel with a pet, we always ask for a goldfish for our room. We call her Fiona, since that was the name of our fish in Portland's Monaco the first time we stayed there. (The Chicago hotel has never named our fish so we just carry on the tradition on our own.)

The EDM challenge this week was to draw something "cute".
The seal is a simplified version of the Monaco symbol.

So there you go. This is me unsupervised, but still connected. Hoping to hear from some of the EDM bunch. Hoping those of you who haven't yet signed up to follow this blog will do so. Please leave comments if you care to, even on the older entries. I enjoy hearing what you have to say, and knowing that doing this is meaningful to someone beside myself. (Although I'd happily write it even if no one was else was reading.)

Next time, the tale of a fun weekend in a winter wonderland.

The Quality of Light

It starts in late August every year. I notice the golden glow on trees and lawns and houses, then gradually through the fall that beautiful, soft, clean aura becomes an all day filter over everything, making life seem like it's stage lit and special.

Lines For Melly

I had been stressing over the line challenge until I looked at these photos and realized how interesting lines are everywhere.

She greets you at my front door; soft lines and cold
texture warmed by the golden light.

Lines: straight, curved, diagonal for me to draw.

 Sunset from my front porch.  I am a lucky person to live
with this beauty.

I know people wax morbid over the dying of the light and the year, but I quite like the late autumn when the leaves have fallen, been gathered and carted off for composting. There's an elegance to the landscape, not stark, but simplified and modern. I like driving West on these days (even just a trip to the mall), the bleached blue of the sky, the bare branches in silhouette, shaved cornrows of the fields surrounding me, while the low sun catches my eye with a wink and a crooked finger of light as if beckoning me somewhere I should be going.


There is something about this time of quiet color and stripped down scenery that makes me feel calm and clean inside, like I can see my life more clearly too. For me it's a time of renewal, of making way for new plans, new adventures. The holidays will go by in a blur. The older I get the less important the individual traditions become. What matters lately is the realization that the years of my life will only accommodate just so many adventures: I mean to have the ones I really want.


I just finished my first serious trip back to my artist self. I found that the talent for seeing with the artist's eye, and the desire to interpret with my own vision are still intact. I'm primed to move forward. Now it will be a matter of keeping high the enthusiasm without my daily cheering section online; about making goals and keeping them, and not getting lost in someone else's vision of my life again.

First continuous contour drawing in ink.
No Pencil, no erase.

Machine Made Objects make for travel memories.

My first flower has to be my favorite one.

We decided against putting up a tree this year. Normally this is the central symbol of our merry December celebrations, even though it is a thoroughly non-religious one for us. But with no plans for at home entertainment, it just seemed like one more burdensome activity, and how easy it was to cross it off the list. Instead we are making plans for quality time in the windy city. Literally, windy. It always rains, snows, blows or numbs, but still we love December in Chicago. We are getting ready for a dinner dance with other "steel guys" and their partners. My recent inspirational drive ending at the local mall resulted in some purchases of festive attire, where the store seemed to be paying me to take the merchandise off their hands. I did my part in relieving them of inventory, but I'm not sure how I helped with the bottom line. I found some girly clothes that makes me feel special, and if I somehow do damage during the revelry, I won't feel bad about it.


My new week brings a new focus on the needle and the cloth. I am taking Jude Hill's C2C3 (Cloth to Cloth, No.3) workshop online, wherein she will share a bit of the techniques behind her poetic needle arts. In the midst of my sketching and line challenge projects last week, I had made two possible woven bases for the workshop, but they are much too safe, too predictable for this work. I will need to turn a more artistic eye to making something worthy this week. We'll see if I can find inspiration in the golden light of late autumn.

Can You Say "Synchronicity"?

Just a week ago, I brought up the concept that opening oneself to the possibilities that life offers may result in a surprising number of offers from life. Last Thursday, Melanie Testa, one of my favorite artists, teachers, and all-around artist boosters, blogged about a challenge she had set for herself for the next month or so, and invited us all to join her. The object, as I see it, is to have an open heart to the possibilities of what may come from drawing lines on fabric on a daily basis.

Here was a relatively quick and easy opportunity to continue my drawing practice and relate it to textiles in a direct manner. The supplies needed: fabric, a permanent marking medium such as paint or dye, and a  means of making the marks, a particular sort of pen nib called a ruling pen.

Since I had done some preliminary explorations in early autumn with screen printing, I had on hand leftover soda soaked cotton, and a number of bottles of thickened procion dye. Perfect! Only problem was, I live nowhere near a good art supply store and was not likely to find this "esoteric" tip at the craft chains. What to do? Meanwhile busy with the arrival of out-of-town guests, I put the thought on hold.

The next morning saw us off to Michigan City for sightseeing, a chance for photography of our gorgeous Indiana Dunes and maybe a few dollars lost at the local casino. An outrageously balmy day found us wending our way down rural Hwy 12 through woods and National Park land and past unseen communities tucked away in the dunes. Suddenly, out of the "Myst", rose a mysterious, unassuming structure tucked at the side of the road, promising ART SUPPLIES! We doubled back, thinking, "not likely, but what the heck?" Inside, a rabbit warren of crowded aisles overflowing with wonderful enticing art stuff. A slightly eccentric-seeming clerk knew of what I inquired and dove in to try to locate one. Alas, all that was available was the compass set, that I figured was more than I wanted and not quite right.  I thanked him and went on with my company to enjoy the day.

Looking Northwest form Mt. Baldy toward the Chicago
skyline shrouded in the "Myst".

It may look like November, but it felt like September.

   

It's usually quite windy atop this five story sand dune, but this day
it was totally calm.

Looking East to the Michigan City's coal fired power plant.

  

The wonders of nature: who'd think that trees could grow in sand atop a windy hill.

The boating season over, their summer home all empty and quiet.

The lighthouse, a symbol of Michigan City.

Many hours filled with beautiful sights, a great Reuben sandwich, and a terribly rare event for me: I actually walked out of a casino with new money in hand! (Hey, no fortune, but $25 on a half hour of penny slots isn't so bad.) Again, a sort of omen: I had to go back for that ruling pen, even if it meant getting a compass I didn't need. But it was now ten 'till five, and surely they would be closing shop. But no, lights still on, and the manager in his easygoing helpful manner, saying no to the compass, pulling out catalogues to show me what I needed, and then...finding a lone replacement tip to sell me for...just four dollars! Use it as is, or attach it to a handle of something else, he suggested. Sold! 

As I stood at the register to pay with my winnings, what should my eyes fall upon sitting in a pile directly in front of me, but a packet of sepia tone pens I had been craving after just seeing them used that week by a journaling classmate.  A bit scary and magical the way the universe has reached out to get me what I wanted and needed, and for free, too!

The simple tools for the line challenge, ready to roll!

Here is my first line study. Thanks Melly for the challenge; thanks universe for stepping up to assist!

Five and a half inches square. Black procion dye on white cotton.

The means and the booty. And the change!
Note the lighthouse on the store logo.
By the way, the nib fit nicely into the handle of an old foam paintbrush.

Art vs Arts and Crafts

Somehow we all intrinsically know that there is a difference between "art" and "craft",  yet the real question is how and when and to whom does it matter? Sometimes I care a lot, and sometimes not at all.

During the last few weeks of drawing from life, I have begun to glean the difference for myself: art has something to do with finding the voice within, to make an original impression or expression. 

And yet for most of my life I have been what may be called an "artisan"--someone who crafts fine things by hand. Hey, isn't "artisanal" the word of the day for good foods? Well, I've always had an artisanal home and life. Whether my clothing, my food, my decor, or the gifts I gave--they came from my heart and my hand. So I have to believe it's only a small leap step to expressing my heart and my intellect in a form that may be called "art".

While I work on getting to that place, I often get my fill of great art by visiting the wealth of it that resides in Chicagoland.  I am fortunate to be a member of the Art Institute of Chicago and one of its affiliate associate clubs. Last month we took a trip to see the collections of an obscenely wealthy family (think major corporate CEO) on the North Shore who happen to own a mind bending stash of artifacts from the Arts and Crafts period of home decor and art, primarily but not exclusively, Gustave Stickley. Their property, Crab Tree Farm, is a restored, working farm in Lake Bluff, Illinois, and only gives docent led tours to non profit groups like the AIC. You will never get closer to a museum quality collection (literally walk around rooms filled with stuff, just don't touch) than a personal tour such as this. I was both joyous and queasy to be there, thinking about weighing my good fortune with the morality of how any one family gets to have so much power as to own and control a piece of history like that. But I can't deny I was thankful for the opportunity.

Back home in my garden, inspecting the recent maintenance on my gazebo, I reflected on my own good fortune to live in a "hand built" home of my husband's and my making. The gazebo we built together is a sanctuary of sorts graced with my stained glass skylight. Because you only see the glass when standing close, I often forget how special and beautiful it is.

Six hand built panels, all the same design, but uniquely sized
to fit the spaces of a hand built roof

Everywhere inside my home are pieces of unique craft: stained glass windows and lamps, hand dyed sheets, hand built staircase with unique wrought iron balusters, tiled walls and posts and mantle, and quilts, quilts, quilts everywhere.

What to do with all the leftover dye at the end of a dye session:
Voila! "autumn splendor"

When you have an ugly pole, cover it with tile.
These homeowners are not afraid of color!

Custom made wrought iron furniture by two Michigan  artisans. Nothing is too special for a beloved cat to sit on.

Yes, and although I didn't realize until now, I live in a home inspired by the philosophy of the Arts and Crafts movement: that people need to surround their daily lives with handmade beauty. 


I live in handcrafted love.