Getter Done...

It is, autumn. The leaves are turning colors — in places far from here.  In this place it is still wet and green due to a lack of deciduous trees, and in particular deciduous hardwoods like the sugar maple. The insects are going off to wherever it is they go all winter — I really don't care where they go, but if I could prevent them from coming back to terrorize my campground in summer I’d spend more time on the issue.  There are limits to what we can hope to know about the cosmos.

Photo by RiverWalker Arts

With the onset of this most delightful of seasons I’ve geared up and been remarkably productive...  (until I got hit with a nasty flu – but I’m drinking my tea and staying home in hopes of getting enough rest to resume my usual busyness)  Fall is when all the volunteer work I’ve ignored all summer suddenly comes and knocks on the door... this year is no different.

 I got unceremoniously roped into Girl Guides again.   So every Thursday I get to try to impart all manner of skills and competence to a group of 12-14 year olds girls who are more interested in giggling and texting on their cell phones than learning how to start fires, splice rope or knit socks.  Oh I also get to do enough paperwork to satisfy the organization’s  insurance company... there is mountains of the stuff.

Creative Jam! 

But on the more fun front, as Vice-Pres of the local Arts Council, I’m working on this year’s Creative Jam.  While not until February, there is a lot of organizing to do.  What is the Creative Jam??  Well.... CREATIVE JAM is a weekend of interdisciplinary creative workshops with participants jamming on a common theme. From the realms of photography, fabric, visual art and creative writing, four facilitators guide individuals and groups through a process of learning through active creativity.   Basically all the artsy people can get together and be creative!

I was so excited to contact Leslie Redhead and get a verbal commitment from her for the visual side of things. (if you are interested her blog is here: http://leslieredheadart.blogspot.ca/)  I think she will be great for our little venue!   Now I can finish my applications for community support and donations.   I feel so on top of it!

I’ve also signed up for this year’s November Craft Fair, and managed to get all my orders in for matting materials, cards, prints etc.  Wow.. how do I manage to get all this done?

Ok – now that I’ve finished patting my own back... I’ll get back to drinking my tea and getting some sleep.  

Establishing goals is all right if you don't let them deprive you of interesting detours.

Yes. The book. The sketches and the good intentions.  Really I did start, I have a half finished watercolour with a boat and a moon and a bunch of swirling glittery stars.  “They sailed on a river of crystal light and into a sea of dew” .  I got side tracked. 

I think it’s only temporary.  I went camping. Oh and I painted a few miniatures....

Spot Prawn

©RiverWalker Arts

Windfall

©RiverWalker Arts

©RiverWalker Arts

And now.. well I’m going through some challenges... like putting Chicken Little into daycare, and starting a new job.  It is pretty stressful stuff.. but I’m still working on it.  Oh and I started another sewing project... currently in UFO status.

But if you are in town... I did manage to get the handbill put together for this season of “Thursday Night at the Movies” ...

Come out and joint us... 

Art is the stored honey of the human soul

In the Blink of an eye a month a year has flown by.  The short weeks of the past month have been spent visiting family, camping and enjoying life.  They have also stirred my creative juices and I’m contemplating things I wish I started a year ago... when I began my year’s hiatus from the 8-5 daily grind of the working stiff, and began that most marvellous journey into motherhood.

Chicken Little will be a year old too soon, and I’ll resume my role in the workforce.  Chicken Little will be taken care of at daycare and the precious few waking hours a day I will have with him will be cherished - being that much more special.  What will likely take a backseat is all the fun creative stuff I’ve been able to do this year...  sadly I’m not ready to be done with fun stuff.  

lovely place to loaf about

©RiverWalker Arts

Maybe it was all the loafing about in a campsite away from the constant reminders of house work needing to be done and guilt about not walking the dog more frequently .... or maybe it was one thing leading to another... but after making my first foray into the fun world of fabric and creating a series of simple rag quilts and accepting that I’m really an impatient seamstress and what I really like is all the wonderful fabric that is out there. (Not that being incapable of sewing a straight line is going to stop me from my dabbling in quilting ).  In fact I knew if I started buying fabric it would become a problem... I deliberately avoided getting into fabric arts when my crystal ball while usually foggy and useless for divining the future showed a huge collection of fat-quarters in store for me, a fortune in fabric just for the beauty of it all. Nowhere to store it, and not enough time to work through it all.

©Jacquie

One day after realizing that the inevitable fabric collecting had begun.  I found myself lounging on the sofa at my friend’s place, the lovely owner of  fishskin fabrics (http://www.fishskinfabric.com/), drinking the splendid coffee she had made me, and discussing how there was more fabulous fabric to be had than one could ever hope to have time to sew with it, much like there are more books I want to read than there is time in my life to read them.  “and wouldn’t it be such fun to design those fabrics” I mentioned. This being as opposed to writing a book, something for which I have no desire - especially given the fact I can’t even figure out how to write a short little story to make into a children’s book. 

But fabric design... well this apparently isn’t so difficult... and so she led me to a place called SpoonFlower.  Oh the wonderful sounds Mr. Brown can do.... er ...  I mean the wonderful places the web can take you....   A website that makes it possible for individuals to design, print and sell their own fabric designs. 

©RiverWalker Arts

A day later... curtsey of some detailed ink drawings I did 10 years ago,  voilà. My first fabric design:  http://www.spoonflower.com/fabric/1333607

The first of what I hope to be many. I envision a whole line of RiverWalker fabrics!!!

Oh and that children’s book I can’t figure out how to write  I did come to the conclusion that, since I sing the Dutch Lullaby “Wynken, Blyken and Nod” by Eugene Field (he was an American so it beats me why it’s known as a Dutch Lullaby - but I digress) to Chicken Little at least once every night - it would be a good practice run for me.  I've no idea the copyright on the poem, but I’d like to produce a single copy for me and my Chicken Little.   Maybe I won’t go down in history as a great illustrator but I might just manage to realize my dream and illustrate a children’s story – even if it’s just for use in this house.

"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe —" 

Here are a couple sketches I’ve done towards that particular project.....  the final project will be in watercolours.

"The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea —
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish —
Never afeard are we";
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod."

Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one.  ~Stella Adler

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.

Spices.

My house smells like a spice factory.  Or what I romantically imagine the Spanish galleons of old must have smelled like, heavily laden with riches.  Ponderous and wallowing things filled with cargoes  of spices, timbers, silks and other luxuries from the orient.  Enough to make you sneeze. 

Before I left adventuring in the land beyond laundry, I concocted a set of spice packets which I delivered for sale at the Ice House Gallery where I sell my art work.   Little envelopes designed  as glorified postcards, a place for a message, a stamp and an address, covered in my art work, and containing spices and associated recipes for Rockfish Chowder, Savoury Salmon Spice Rub, Halibut Chermoula and Kickin’ Crab Cakes.  A fun little addition to my more staid and traditional series of prints and cards. 

When I got home from camping... there were no less than four messages on my machine...

1.  I’m just not sure about these spices you’ve brought in.... please call me.

2.      I’m not sure we can accept these packets – they aren’t part of your original application describing the products you planned to sell

3.       I’m not sure we can sell these – the spices included are not grown locally and as you know we only sell locally made items and art work.

4.      Could you please bring some more spice packets down  as we have sold out of all of them.

 

Change is such a difficult thing.

So I spent an entire day mixing spices and loading envelopes to satisfy the demand of a new product in a small town.  

It was, in the end, no hardship to spend the day indoors, as I found much to my chagrin, the temperatures had plummeted, and I was dressed (in mid-july may I remind you!) in woollen slippers, long pants, long sleeves and a few extra layers looking out at the downpour wondering why I continue to live in this cold and dismal climate. 

Camping: The art of getting closer to nature while getting farther away from the nearest cold beverage, hot shower and flush toilet.

Too many projects, not nearly enough time. 

©RiverWalker Arts

But the best time of all is when you go away and there are no distractions.  No dishes lurking in the sink, no laundry slowing getting  sour and beckoning from the basement, no looking through windows covered in dog slobber and thinking how much better the view might be if only I spent some time washing the windows,  which then leads to cleaning the mould out of the aluminum tracks, which reminds me that the floor need a good clean to remove dog prints, slobber, dog hair, dust, baby drool and other miscellany... where upon I open the closet for the appropriate cleaning apparatus and realize that although I can get my closet doors closed (barely) they really need a thorough cleaning , sorting, organizing,  purging and general dung-out.... and while we are talking about closets – the linen cupboard, the fridge, the pantry and pretty much all storage locations in the house need a full on cleaning if I ever hope to find anything ever again..... did I mention my plant needs watering?  And there is a pink ring around the bathtub.  And the dog needs walking.  And the garbage needs to be taken out.  And the hedge needs trimming......  *sigh*.

©RiverWalker Arts

While some folks eschew camping as some form of sadistic experiment in biting insects and poor hygiene ...  (one friend told me “ why would I go live in a tent for fun? ...  I work hard to earn enough money so I don’t have to huddle around a fire in a barrel, and hunker down in the down pouring rain under the dubious shelter of  a tent” )   - I, personally love the way that all the jobs evaporate. I realize that out in the campsite, I have absolutely nothing better to do that nap on a blanket on the grass with my Chicken Little.  Nothing more pressing to do than roast a hot-dog slowly on a collection of warm coals in the fire pit.  Nothing more important than to throw the stick for the dog to chase endlessly. 

©RiverWalker Arts

It is a slice of freedom, a way to clear away the clutter and put some perspective on what really is and is not important. 

©RiverWalker Arts

Yes,  there were bugs, hundreds of thousands, Billions upon Billions of them, and yes I accumulated a lot of black gunk under my fingernails, and my feet looked pretty black on the bottom by the end of the day,  and yes in fact there was a flood in the camper, and yes in fact there were some problems with refrigeration, and not everything went as smoothly as one might hope....   but I rested.  And I came home inspired.  Inspired to write, to paint, to sew and to appreciate the little things....

Standby – brilliant works of art, and witty words will be forthcoming.. 

Maybe.

If I find time.

There are, after all, nearly four hundred and fifty six loads of laundry to do now that we are home, Oh and the garden needs weeding, and the bathroom needs scrubbing.... and....  and..

You sometimes see a woman who would have made a Joan of Arc in another century and climate, threshing herself to pieces over all the mean worry of housekeeping.  ~Rudyard Kipling

the hospital corridor...

Cough Splutter Hack, hack hack... spit.  Blow nose.  Repeat.   It’s a friendly little thing.  Seems everyone in town has shared it.  The dreaded Spring Cold.  My voice is hoarse and nasally, my nose is raw and red, and Chicken Littler has this Snot thing going on that is not for the faint of heart...   we’ll get through it. We always do.  But what an annoyance. 

Quarantine does not sit well with me.  But then apparently it doesn’t with others either or we wouldn’t all be sharing this nasty little bug now would we?   

And so... after the worst of it passed.  (The part where I thought I might be dying and lay in a semi-unconscious state in my pyjamas doing my best to be a good parent by actually maintaining some sort of supervision over my poor little snot monster.)..

 I decided that it was time to finish the last of the real big projects on the line up.  The one that won’t be so manageable once Chicken Little gets his little legs under himself and starts crawling.  Namely the wall along the hallway of the Audiology Department at the hospital.  Somewhere along the line, back when I was confident (and foolish) I volunteered (yes that’s right VOLUNTEERED)  to paint the hallway down in the hospital’s audiology department.  

 

Chicken Little spun in circles on the floor as that is as close to mobility as he can achieve at this point (Halleluiah!!).  Lab staff warned me of the drug resistant bacteria that are spawned in hospitals and how no parent in their right mind lets their child squirm around face down on a hospital floor.  And I... I painted in a slap dash fashion trying to get the project done faster than I might have - had time not been working against me in the baby department. 

The result is not my best work... but I’m happy enough with it, and I think the kids will find it is a friendlier looking place than a boring beige hallway.

Woot woot.. another UFO off the plate! 

no escape from the rain...

My most recent adventure... Ketchikan Alaska.   It is a six hour, slow, ferry ride north of here.  The rain doesn’t let up, the temperatures don’t improve and the permeating dampness doesn’t abate.  I’m glad I went.  DH had a meeting, so Chicken Little and myself walked on the ferry leaving the dog to fend for herself with a friend to curl up with, and a cat to chase. 

We arrived in a downpour and limped across the street and into the hotel...  the three of us tucked up in the little double bed listening to the rain.   Come morning, while DH set off for meeting, I loaded Chicken Little into the stroller, flung over the rain shield, put on my rain jacket and we set out to see what we could see.

The wind blew, the fog draped itself over the landscape and swirled mystically in the trees, the rain pattered down and the temperatures had me wrapping my fingers around any cup of coffee that came my way.   The hardy souls of Ketchikan don’t so much live on the hillside overlooking the water.. they have chiselled out spaces for their homes in the rocky cliff-side, the moss and greenery tumbling down around it.  Streets and roads reach upwards at frightening angles, and when the side hill gets too steep for cars, they simply hung a street sign and built a staircase instead.  

Tourists throng the waterfront, pedestrians from the cruise ships that come to call. There are 3 types of people who cruise. The newlywed, the nearly dead, and the overfed.  This is nothing new.  And of course wherever there's a cruise ship port, there's a lot of jewellery, liquor, perfume and curios, T-shirts and souvenirs...   Most are owned by the Cruise Ship companies...  the connection between cruise ships and shopping is nothing new...  but really.... with 38 separate jewellery stores in a 4 block downtown radius you have to wonder if they couldn’t come up with something more original.

Outside of Jewellery store land, empty store fronts show signs of the economy much as they do in my own community.  It left me to wonder about the fate of my own community, once dominated by fishermen and the markets that kept them supplied in goods, beer and women.   Is our future doomed to the attack of the oversized playpen and the industry’s associated money making schemes, blatant disregard for the environment, exploitation of workers, and the garbage and sewage left in their wake.  

But doom and gloom aside  the most bizarre incident of our adventure was the purchase of a Camper in Ketchikan.  Although it’s in Chilliwack.  Did I mention I don’t live anywhere near Chilliwack,  and Ketchikan isn’t anywhere near Chilliwack either....   

DH was browsing on line for some sort of RV – he’s been doing this for 8 years.  He found one, a great price.  He called the guy -  who said.. he was leaving in 15 minutes.  DH said he’d talk after the vacation.  Only the guy said. .no we are LEAVING... as in... moving to Hawaii – catching the ferry to Bellingham, loading the truck on a barge, and flying to Hawaii... in 15 minutes.  I caught up with DH as he was j-walking across the street to the ferry terminal.   Less than 48 hours later... the camper was purchased, in our name, and parked in Chilliwack awaiting our arrival...

  

I enjoyed Ketchikan – although it wouldn’t be on my list of places to visit again (although I did manage to have some fun, on an afternoon on a zip line adventure while soaking up the local rain ) – I am more partial to places with warmth, and sunshine for my tourist endeavours,  and I look forward to many camping adventures in our new Camper! 

A passport, as I'm sure you know, is a document that one shows to government officials whenever one reaches a border between countries, so the officials can learn who you are, where you were born, and how you look when photographed unflatteringly.  ~Lemony Snicket