Last Chance

Haven't I been telling them for years? Come to Chicago! We've got a world class city here folks. People travel here from all around the world to see the grandeur, the art and architecture, the famous streets and stores, the lake that looks like the ocean, such that the city has actual sandy beaches right here in the middle of the country. But no, twenty-two years and I could count the visitors on just my fingers, no toes needed. Well this time, the suggestion was firmer: you are running out of time, because we have soaked up as much mid western love as we can, and we are ready to move on to a new coastal adventure. Not sure the exact date of departure, but sometime before the weather turns colder in 2015. So let's do this town together one more time.

This summer we had two sets of company in quick succession: reunion of high school besties on my side, and reunion of childhood besties/first cousins on his. I was so occupied with being hostess and tour guide and enjoying myself in the bargain, that the photos caught on the run or in a few quiet moments in the hotel room will have to serve as the evidence of what I said: this is a special place with a kind of energy that will either invigorate or suck you dry. Luckily for us, it has inspired and refreshed and now we are ready for a city of more personal dimensions. But that is a story for later.

The images here aren't necessarily in a chronological (or logical order), but represent moments on the fly of playfulness, companionship with company, strangers, and the city itself. It is a place that invites awe: so often you must look up to behold it, but also, it invites participation.

We see ourselves reflected in an iconic sculpture.

Sometimes we are lost in the image.

Sometimes the image seems illusive to capture.

The view in summer is complicated with foliage and people. Winter, though difficult on some levels, is the ideal time for broad expanses.

Unless you stand on a bridge high above the fray.

Short among the tall, but I can aspire to their heights.

From the river, a juxtaposition of old and new. The best way to view the history of architecture and commerce: a river tour.

Trump's tower was just as easy to spot without the monster sized letters. It was far more pure and beautiful a design without.

But this water garden in a plaza at its base is peaceful and low key, and  invites even those of us without the "bucks" to pause and reflect.

A typical architectural tour boat ready for a spin.

I can never get enough of Marina Towers, either day or night views.

Too busy enjoying my company and my food experience, this shot of a typical food station at "'Eataly" is the only one to survive the day.

Back at "Cloudgate," aka "The Bean," I take delight in images and the joy of other visitors as we each dance the same dance with reflection, distortion, and imagining.

For just a moment I feel so connected to the joy of art, the crowds, and the city.

The "Crown Fountain" by Jaume Plensa bears the images of hundreds of real Chicagoans on its two 50 foot towers with cascading water and a shallow wading pool that draws children and delight.

About every five minutes the face of the moment becomes a gargoyle as it "spits" water from its mouth onto the waiting crowd of little ones.

The Art Institute is a favorite stop and this summer we twice attended the amazing exhibition of works by Surrealist, Rene Magritte. But almost as surprisingly arresting was the free exhibit of sculpture and mixed media painting by local artist, Hebru Brantley, called "Parade Day Rain." It will be on display at the Cultural Center through September 23, if you plan to be in town.

A view of an apartment balcony along Wabash with the resident in residence brought out my longings for the soon to be relocation to city life.

In recent years we always stay at the Hotel Monaco with the pillowed window seat views of Wabash and Wacker, the Chicago River, Marina City, Trump Tower, the el train, and my favorite city clock with a winged father time, and his lantern.

The Water Taxi, an efficient way to travel in this city that seems to have enough roadway taxis to accommodate every person who desires one.

A magic hour.

Inside the room, a mellow vibe and a goldfish. Unfortunately, this one did not survive the night. Just like in the stories where parents don't wish to traumatize their children with the reality of dead pets, my "fixer" had the floater replaced while I showered unaware of the switch.

The elevated train performs its wheel squealing turn around this bend all day and (seemingly) all night.

The girl in her window seat, the man relaxing with his Internet browser and some mellow music from "Austin City Limits" on the tube. Perfect down time after a frenetic day.

Darkness descends on a beautiful summer evening.

In this bowl there is no real day or night.

But out here the magic begins. Standing at the base of the towers across from the famous "House of Blues," we prepare for a bit of ten pin fun.

A favorite restaurant, but not this evening.

A hotel that can't settle on a name or an owner, although seemingly it has kept the same identity through recent changes. The cool and modern lobby of what was for a time the Hotel Sax.

And just next door our destination, an upscale bowling alley with music, food and alcoholic libation, a party for rent (along with the shoes.)

And so ends the day, watching the pleasure boats, and floating parties as they pass below on the river.

Surveying the dramatic skyline and taking in the energy of this beautiful night.

Magic!

The company has gone and we are on our own, taking a breather at a local historical park. 

A profile I love and that brings me peace of mind.

This is a popular place for weddings, but today we are alone enjoying the mature plantings in and around the gazebo and gardens.

Pretty soon I will be surrendering my own personal gazebo and garden for the life of sharing public spaces. I am sure there will be some sadness and nostalgia, but I doubt there will be regret. My last summer of "suburbia" is almost under my belt now. Pretty soon we are off to pay a visit to our prospective new home. I look forward to sharing that story with you soon.

The Colors of Winter

As winter proceeds step by step toward spring I find I am not truly tired of it yet. After all, the days are lengthening, the occasional smell of thawed earth is on the breeze, and I still have so much yet to do without the constant call of the garden. It is now when I start to long for the colors of spring, that I truly notice how wonderful are the colors of winter. There is something so grand about the washed out skies and the starkness of black branches and clean spaces, that serve as a clean palette and draw the eye to everything special that the low light provides. There is warmth in the cold, and there is elegance in the simplicity. I woke with the thought today that in winter it is all about the noticing. You must be vigilant and look around yourself for the special gifts offered up each day. They may only last a few minutes and if you aren't careful to notice, they will disappear without a trace.

The special gift of sunrise and sunset is something I like to look for and record. This is the view from my bedroom window on a recent morning. How could a day not proceed with passion after seeing that? The golden light is also reflected on a quilt hanging on the opposite wall. It commends me to the work of my hands and makes me thankful for being able to express myself in warm and comforting ways.

Simple things draw my eye throughout the morning. The shimmer of the metal faucets, the bubbling of the water's stream, its double shadow on the cup. I have to stop to capture the image of something I might normally not see. But today I am noticing things.

On this day I notice the temperature is the lowest of the winter so far, that this is the first and only time recently it has fallen below zero. I take the photo, to remember, and also to send a silly joke to a Facebook friend in Australia, something corny about "down under".

In the midst of all the "giraffing", I try to find time to continue my class on "Capturing the Essence" of animals. I don't get too far, but I thoroughly enjoy recording the personalities of these ducks and an old goose. I am using oil pastels and enjoying their rough drawn texture which becomes creamy when smeared with a finger. The sheeps' backs below feel lovely and intimate, and such a simple sketch draws pride in my growing knack for looking, and many favorable comments from friends who notice the composition and light touch with line and color. 

The animal sketches are a prelude to beginning to develop a personal arsenal of symbols. The assignment here, to remember how I felt at the death of a beloved pet, was both difficult to begin, but easy once I got moving. The serious nature of trying to express deep feeling in an abstract manner in mixed media (and to try next time to do this without words), left me a bit drawn and needing to distance and return at a later date. I am very in love with this first attempt. I have no doubt I can learn to improve on it greatly, but I know we must all start somewhere, and I finally did.

The month of January involved drawing the giraffe as much as possible (or as desired). I did draw as much as I could find time and energy for, but not nearly as much as I wanted. I will try to continue to return to it throughout the creative year of many assignments since drawing is the thing that makes me look and learn about the nature of the beast.

I decided that amidst all the many ways that people were doing creative interpretations of the form, I really needed to do at least one "photo" accurate portrayal to study the proportions and details of what makes a giraffe "so". I only succeeded partially, as you can see I was still having a lot of trouble getting the length of the legs and neck as improbably long as they are in real life. My husband says it is because I am working on a short page, and he is probably somewhat right. I was trying to make it fit and still have a sizable presence. I didn't work with a grid or formal measures, but tried to look and see. I was pretty happy with the layering of three hardness's of graphite, plus a terra cotta pencil. It took about four sessions to complete. 

Some winter days arise with a blank color palette, mist shrouded. The birds twittered in a nearby tree; an occasional red flash when the cardinals alighted by the window. I hadn't touched my fabric stash since last summer and I felt the need for an infusion of bright color.

Even Lucca was a bit down and subdued by the mist. I decided to pull fabrics and get back to making the pages for new months of embroidery samplers.

You may recall that last year I began a challenge project called "Take a Stitch Tuesday" from embroidery maven, Sharon Boggon. I only completed three and a half months of the twelve, and intended to return to it when time allowed. I am making my sampler in the style of a fabric book that works it way around the color wheel. I began the first stitches in January of 2012, with a red page and at this point I was up to constructing the summer pages.

After visually falling into the pile of happy yellow green through blue green quilt fabrics, I composed three 2-page entries which will hold four to five stitches each. The challenge project is ongoing with new stitches this year, but anyone can access last year's as well, and begin whenever they like. It is a wonderful way to take a free and fun course in modern embroidery. Sharon showcases the work of many talented participants throughout the world. If you'd like to see what I've finished to date, you can check out this "TAST" flick set.

While I spend a lot of time noticing sunrise and sunset, almost better in the way of lifting the spirits is to see, on a day of overcast and gloom, the sun break through the clouds late in the day and set the landscape alight. The contrast of steel blue-gray with golden bare limbs of my elm tree always brings a smile to my face.

In February, the giraffe assignment is to explore, fearlessly, the use of mixed media. I was quite excited to begin, but first I had to do a little drawing warm up. I was quite thrilled to capture some giraffe personality in this threesome drawn from a photo reference. This was the first time I had used a water soluble graphite, and just that bit of water brush smear added a wonderful softness to the sketch.

I needed something with structure to begin, and for a long time now I had admired the lesson by Carla Sonheim in drawing animals to mimic the style of painted wood figurines from Oaxaca, Mexico. My "Oaxacan Giraffe" began with a series of one-liner drawings from which I chose my favorite stylized design, then built up the lines with Sharpie markers, then colored with layers of Copic markers, colored pencil, white gel pen, watercolor pencils and markers, and other fine point colored markers.

The final beast has the colorful patterns and white dots of the namesake carvings.

I am always looking for reasons to capture the glorious sunset view from my front window. When Flickr Friday, a special weekly contest for themed photos, announced that the first week of February was all about "beyond the horizon", I knew what I had to shoot. Because all submitted photos must be taken between Friday and Sunday of that week, participants have a limited window to find inspiration. It was fun to participate and see my photo next to amazing shots from around the world. If you like a photography challenge, check it out each Friday. No qualifications, no obligations. Free to join.

Last weekend, some of my fellow giraffers were talking about a fun mixed media technique using a rather unusual medium, nail polish, to create marbled designs on watercolor paper. I thought I'd try it, and I can see how I might make use of these in a collage. Now to figure out a more giraffe like result.
The info for the tutorials can be found on Carla's blog, here.

The funny thing about creative inspiration is that you can never guess where it will be hiding next. While I was having a fun hour of play with the polish, I really wasn't totally invested in what I was doing or whether I would actually use any of the pieces I made. What did captivate me was a pile of scrap paper from the cut out circles sitting on the nearby counter. For some crazy reason, I couldn't wait to finish what I was doing so I could photograph that silly pile of shadow-throwing bits that might just as easily have ended in the trash instead.

What I got for my efforts was a thoroughly satisfying series of intimate photos of  accidental form and shape, "real" and created by light. Something I then went on to play with in simple photo editing to expand the vision. I am inspired to try more of this in time. In short, I am inspired.

Whether it's the soft blank canvas of grey sky and snowy ground, or the color of things lit by sun breaking though in late afternoon, the colors of winter are captivating if you will just take time to notice them.