Jennifer Jeffrey, Writer & Editor

Art For What Ails You

I would be-should be-wish I was at yoga right now, bending myself into pretzel-like shapes and breathing deeply. Alas, I wasn't able to pull my car out of my driveway tonight, due to a large truck blocking the exit. I paced +  fumed + waited... and finally called the city. Over an hour later, a tow truck arrived and hauled the vehicle away.

Not five minutes afterward, there was a loud knock at the door. Thump. Thump.

While Petra and I cowered in the corner, I thought: why leave the house? It's warm + toasty in here. And hey - I can post to my blog as soon as my hands stop shaking.

So here I am. With you. Not a bad place to be, if I do say so myself.

The interwebs are so fantastic, y'all - I come across marvelous, mind-bending, eyeball-peeling stuff nearly every day. I realize it's been far too long since I've shared any of it with you, so here are a few links that I hope you'll get a kick out of.

Now if you come across anything I should see, SEND IT. Deal?

1. Lisa Rienermann

Type The Sky, by Lisa Rienermann

+ This is one of the most brilliant ideas I've ever seen. Am I right?! So if you happen to run into me downtown and my neck is tilted back and I'm staggering around like I've just had one too many, you'll know why.

+ Via the marvelous Tina at Swiss Miss.

2. Dulce Pinzòn 

Superheroes - Noe Reyes photographed by Dulce Pinzòn

+ The "immigration question" of several months ago has faded of late, replaced by the economy and other urgent concerns, but it hasn't gone away. I'm fascinated with the way Dulce Pinzòn has framed this marginalized community in terms of what they do every day - run, bike, schelp, sweat: save.

+ Check out all the Superhero photos, plus Dulce's statement about the  project.

3. Oded Ezer

 

Helvetica Live! by Oded Ezer

+ Once a fan, always a fan.

+ Check out Oded's Flickr stream here.

+ Don't you think Oded should print these posters and sell them? I know I'd buy one. Or five. Hint.

4. START MOBILE: The Palin Project

 

I Can See Russia From My House by Rich Silverstein

+ My friend John Doffing, founder of START MOBILE, recently had a 3:00 am brainstorm that resulted in the Palin Political Poster Project. The image above is one of several posters submitted by artists around the US and beyond.

+ Here's John's open letter to designers about the project.

Other Things to Wrap Your Eyeballs Around

+  Fabulous work by Denmark artist Peter Callesen. Props to Tana for sending me the link to Peter's site.

+  I was thrilled to discover the Museum of Contemporary Photography recently.

+ An absolutely fascinating piece in the NYT about photography as a weapon by none other than Errol Morris.

Add This to the Highlight Reel

My life is full of small shining moments, glimmering threads sewn into the fabric of each day. They happen all the time: catching sight of a full moon overhead; lingering over tea with friends; sinking into a good book. Alone, they might not seem significant, but together, they provide solid proof of life’s goodness, of the everyday magic that surrounds me.

But there are moments, and there are Moments. Moments when planning + intention + luck slide magically into place and everything is right with the world, if only for a few shimmering seconds. Such are the moments that make up the Highlight Reel.

The Highlight Reel is what I draw from when grim reality begins to cloud my vision, when all I can see is lack and loss. It spins like a slow-moving carousel, filled with slow-mo shots of golden light, triumphant eyes, exultant smiles. It's my happy place.

In July, I had not one but two moments for the Reel.

They both happened on the occasion of my mother’s 60th birthday. Prior to the big day, my sisters and I talked for months about how to commemorate this special occasion. What would bring our mother the most happiness? We gently probed her for suggestions, and came away with a few guidelines: no big party. No la-dee-da.

Finally, we decided upon this: all of us girls, her daughters (there are six of us) would whisk her away to her favorite place, Canon Beach, where we would spend the day. We would also invite her sister, our aunt, to join us. I would fly up from San Francisco; youngest sister would fly up from Austin, baby in tow, and we’d spend the day showering our mother with love. And we wouldn't tell her beforehand; we'd make it a secret.

It wasn’t a showy plan, and there was much debate among us as to whether it was enough, but we stuck to it. Our aunt arranged to spend the day with our mother, thereby guaranteeing that her day would be free. I flew in the night before, as did little sister, whose plane was delayed twice, and who finally straggled into PDX after midnight carrying one exhausted infant.

On the morning of our mother's birthday, we sisters met about a mile from the farm so that we could drive down the hill, caravan-style, for the surprise. Each of us had called her earlier that morning, telling her in our own ways that we wished we could spend the day with her, but that one thing or another had prevented it. “How’s the weather in San Francisco?” she asked me. “Cool and foggy as always,” I replied, looking out on a sunny Portland sky.

BlogHer, Day 2

(Sorry there aren't any pictures. Didn't take my camera. Oops.)

9:37 am – The hallways at the Westin St. Francis are quieter today than yesterday; the frantic energy has mellowed. I walk through the rooms in search of coffee. I finally find an espresso stand located in the room next to the book table. Fog on brain begins to lift.

10:17 am – Need to secure a spot in the room that will surely be packed for Elise Bauer’s talk. Kalyn and Lydia have already started saving seats: smart.

10:35 am – The room is starting to fill up. Elise walks in; the buzz begins. In a matter of moments, all the seats are filled; people line the walls and sit on the floor.

10:45 am – There are so many reasons to admire Elise, and here’s another: she knows how to present. She’s not only an expert in her subject, but she also hews to a strong narrative arc. She uses PowerPoint to keep the audience engaged as she moves through her topic. Someone turns to me at the end: “That session was worth admission for the entire weekend.” Agreed. You can see her entire presentation here.

11:50 am – I step back into the Zwaggle room to tell them how glad I am that they're here. They've drawn an old-school style thermometer on a piece of paper to show how many pounds of swag they’ve recycled. It’s already over 800 pounds. 800! Pounds!

12:43 pm - I meet the wonderful Andrea and buy a superhero bullseye pendant. I tell her how much I love her blog. She has marvelous smile.

1:50 pm – Photographer Me Ra Koh puts the awesome into the afternoon with her super-informative session. She talks about aperture setting + shutter speed + AI servo and chants: “How low can you go… with your ISO?”  She’s effusive and warm and generous with information; I’m scribbling notes as fast as I can. You’ve got to read the story of her journey. 

3:45 pm – I can’t decide whether to go the Blog to Book session or the session about the potential dangers of blogging personal information. I decide on the latter. The first half hour or so is intense. The stories coming from both the panel and the audience are raw and frightening. The Internet can be a scary place indeed. Then, slowly, the intensity begins to lift; the talk begins to turn to the fact that there is danger everywhere, but we still have to live out loud, be authentic, stay strong and be smart. Powerful stuff.

5:15 pm – When Heather Armstrong (Dooce) and her husband Jon walk into the Grand Ballroom for the closing keynote, the temperature changes. I think Heather is a phenomenal writer, but what is more interesting than Heather Armstrong is the effect she has on people. In close proximity to a group of women, approximately 65% of said group begins to hyperventilate. People stand up to ask questions and instead deliver incoherent blather.  What does she represent to them - A difficult relationship with Mother? That mean girl in high school? The bad boss lady? On stage, she’s gorgeous and witty and etc., but I’m riveted by the crowd. What is going on here?

6:57 pm – The last BlogHer bash is at Macy’s. In the handbag aisles; between the shoe racks. I get it: girls like to shop. But I’ve never been a department store girl, and besides: I’ve got a greyhound at home who needs her dinner. I chat with a few lovely people, finish my flute of champagne and scoot out. Crisp white sheets are calling my name. My brain is full; I’m tiiiired.

(As you can see, I'm posting this Sunday night. There was an UnConference "Day 3" today, but I was all tapped out.)

Did you go to BlogHer? Thoughts?

BlogHer, Day 1

8:57 am – I arrive at the Westin St. Francis, panicked because I’ve left my drivers license on my desk at home. I’m concocting all kinds of stories in my head when I walk up to the registration counter. “Name?” the woman asks. I tell her. She hands me a badge. I’m momentarily befuddled. What, no long story about how I am who I say I am, and hey, do you wan to see my picture on my website to be sure that I’m me…?

9:02 am – I obediently pick up a swag bag. It weighs about 8 pounds, and I’m instantly regretful. I peek inside – there’s a plastic bottle of water (!!), a million brochures, a grooming kit, a magic 8 ball, a DVD of the first episode of The Closer (Seriously, for one measly episode you burn a DVD and put it it in a plastic shell? Get outta here), and other things I can’t remember.

9:07 am – This place is mobbed. People swarm the hallways. I see TV cameras; microphones. There are strollers everywhere; Sesame Street booths, children’s books. Am I at BlogHer or Mommy Hazza Blog?

9:24 am – I walk into the Grand Ballroom, where announcements are being made. I meet someone new. I look at the schedule and think about where I want to spend my time. Amy Sherman finds me – hurray! a friendly face! – and we chatter about writing projects for a few minutes.

9:36 am – Every room has buckets full of bottled water and sodas. So many plastic bottles; I want to cry.

10:14 am – Thanks to a tip from Amy, I head for the Zivio booth and score a sweet Bluetooth headset.

10:30 am – I attend the Taking Care of Business panel, where three bloggers talk about taxes and running a blog business. “Just to put it into perspective for you, the tax code is more four times longer than the Bible,” says Kelly Phillips Erb.

A Weekend with Sabrina Ward Harrison

I first discovered Sabrina Ward Harrison back in 2000, after her first book came out. Spilling Open: The Art of Becoming Yourself was like no other book I had ever seen - filled with pencil sketches and inky scribbles and scraps of poems, it was like peeking into someone's diary. This was pre-blogging, before everyone posted their diaries online for all the world to see, and so it seemed intensely revelatory.

I pored over the book for hours. Sabrina’s words were often similar to my own reflections, and in some ways it felt like looking into a mirror. From Spilling Open:

"I catch myself trying to cover up parts of myself that I don't accept. It's like a mask. I use my long black skirts to cover my legs that feel thick sometimes. I put make-up on that attempts to look like I don't have make-up on just to cover any shadows of acne. Why? I want to be accepted and loved as is..."

I continued to buy her books as they came out over the years, and they joined the others in my Creative Inspiration pile.

Then, a few months ago, I found a link online to a workshop that Sabrina was giving in LA. I signed up immediately.

I had this grand idea that I'd drive down, and make it a road trip - fun, right?! - even though, honestly, I'm not much off a road trip person. Partly because my long limbs get stiff and restless after a couple of hours in the car, and partly because I get so intensely focused on GETTING THERE that I don't enjoy the journey very much. A friend of mine once said: "you're like a horse on the way back to the barn - you just can't get there fast enough." I've been on the backs of horses that have caught sight of the barn, and I know that beady-eyed focus and wild, thundering momentum, so OUCH.

But knowing these things about myself, and wanting to grow into a less-Type-A person, I thought: I’ll do better this time. I’ll get an In-N-Out Burger along the way. I’ll stop at Tejon Ranch and take pictures of the trees. I'LL ENJOY THE RIDE.

Then, two weeks before the workshop, my slipper-clad foot slipped on the stairway at 6:30 am as I was blinking the sleep out of my eyes, and I thumped down several wooden stairs on my tailbone.

Hi. My name is Jennifer, and I fall. A lot. I trip, I fumble, I tumble. I want to glide gracefully through my life, sleek and sure-footed as a dancer, but I don't. Instead, I've collected knee surgeries + bruises + scars from my falls like so many trophies. I’ve stopped being surprised when I fall, but can I just put it out there that I’d like to fall on sand or soft grass next time?

For days after the fall (and still now), I was in excruciating pain. Every time I sat down, or stood up, or shifted in my seat, or wiggled my pinkie finger – ANY MOVEMENT AT ALL – glorious waves of red-hot pain shot up my back and down my legs.

But I really wanted to go that workshop, and I figured that I could be in pain here or be in pain there, and so I got into the car as scheduled and made a beeline for LA. I did not stop at Tejon Ranch. I did not take pictures of trees. I won’t tell you how fast I got there, but I will say that I’m lucky I didn’t run anyone off the road in the process.

The workshop was held in the gorgeous home studio of artist Carol Parks. Perched on the corner of a winding street, the home is wrapped in wisteria vines and bougainvillea. It’s like a fairy tale cottage – art and beautiful objects are displayed everywhere – paintings + photographs + peeling steamer trunks + stern-faced wooden dolls. A huge outdoor patio, festooned with paper lanterns and grapevines, looks out over a park.

 

A place to relax into, and listen, and breathe.

Swooning over LA's Getty Center

 
A few days ago, I did something that I've wanted to do for ever-so-long: visit the Getty Center in Los Angeles.

Ooh, the Getty Center: Temple of Modernism. Ode to Light. Tabernacle of Beauty. Perched on the edge of a plush, sinuous mountain, the Center casts a cool gaze over the city of angels, seemingly impervious to smog and exhaust fumes. Driving on the 405, I had gazed longingly at it, but had never had the chance to stop.

Well: it isn't as if I drive by it often - after all, I do live nearly 400 miles away.

But last week, at long last, I stepped into the gleaming white tram at the base of the mountain, and stepped out into a dazzling, shimmery, light-spangled daydream.

The Center is actually something of a campus, made up of multiple buildings, all connected by a vast  "courtyard" of sorts in the middle. In theory, the buildings house a stunning collection of art, but I can't verify that, because I scarcely spent any time inside. I just kept walking around the buildings, eyes big as pizza pies, taking in the sumptuous curves and soaring archways and squares in grids repeated over and over.

It was all light +  glass + thick-veined Italian travertine.

Look:

And:

See? Isn't it divine? Don't you just want to... hug it? Or lay on your back on the floor and stare up at the shapes + shadows for hours and hours?

Oh, if only.

In lieu of all that, there's learning about it. Here are few facts that I found fascinating (culled from the friendly tour guide on the Architecture tour - any mistakes are entirely the fault of my memory):

+ The squares that appear everywhere are based on a 30x30 grid, which architect Richard Meier used as one of his recurring motifs in the project. Sometimes the squares are multiples of 30x30; sometimes, they're a division.

Can I just say that it makes me warm + tingly when artists and architects use a particular numerical scheme throughout their work? Speak numbers to me, baby.

+ Knowing how much Meier loved bright white, the City of Los Angeles forbade the use of bright white on the bulk of the buildings. Instead, he used a creamy tone that matches the travertine. Over and over, the design committee urged him to incorporate bold pops of color, but he would not.

Good. Man.

Instead, noting the lavender that bloomed on the mountainside and the purplish cast of the sky on summer evenings, he incorporated lavender plants and trees with purple flowers (whose name escapes me) to create harmony between the hardscape and the environment.

Can I interject here how much I adore white + neutral tones, and how seriously thrilled I am that the Center doesn't look like a giant Legos set of taxicab yellow + lipstick red and indigo blue, and how imagining the buildings in those colors makes me shudder?

Deep breath.

+ Another recurring motif Meier used was passageways and long, narrow corridors. His inspiration was the naturally-formed channels that run across the ridges of the mountains, which you can clearly see from the deck of the building, and the strips of freeway that cut into the mountains along those same parallel lines, creating a gorgeous sense of continuity.

+ Meier was all about framing views. From every vantage point on the property, the space between each building creates a magnificent frame that showcases the mountains, the valley, the city... spectacular.

It's like white space in design, or the space between notes in music - just as important as the design itself or the musical notes - or the building, in this case - is the space around it.

I'm smitten. Does it show?

I'm going to have to go back.

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More Getty Center Links:

+  A blog that collects interesting Getty-related links.

+  A group of LA-based photographers spent an evening photographing the Getty, and what they captured makes me want to toss my camera away and cry. Simply stunning.

+ From the New York Times, a story about a photographer-scientist-detective who works in the Getty Conservation Institute to decode the information in old photos. Fabulous read.

+ Richard Meier's official website

+ Check out some of these photos of Meier's various projects.

Next post: a little bit about other LA-based inspiration.

Collecting Dreams on the ART-about-TOWN Tour

Have a moment (or five)? I’d love to whisk you away on a mini version of the tour I took over the weekend.

It was called ART-about-TOWN, and was led by Sharon Reaves, owner of the Reaves Gallery in Hayes Valley. The morning began with a champagne brunch in her gallery at 235 Gough Street, where she showcases talented local artists like Blair Bradshaw and Michael Frederick.

I didn’t get a close-up picture of Sharon (that's her above, on the right, ever-so-small), but I sure wish I had, because I’d love to share her with you. She’s beautiful + gracious + knowledgeable about art, never condescending or aloof. We were a cozy group of 9 people, and she began by talking to us about what to keep in mind when collecting art, such as how to know whether a price is fair, and how to judge which piece might be a good investment.

Next she introduced us to David Imlay, one of the artists she represents. David paints from photographs that he has taken, many of them scenes around the city. He uses moody, smoky colors that evoke a wistful sense of nostalgia. I especially love the way he captures the “bokeh” effect in his paintings, creating shimmery, broken light that seems to hover above the canvas.

 
Inside Reaves Gallery. David Imlay on the left, with his work in the background.

We reluctantly pulled ourselves away and hopped into a limousine to be ferried to a warm, light-filled room inside 49 Geary: Warnock Fine Arts and Robert Tat Gallery.

If you haven’t been to 49 Geary before, save that address to your iPhone, baby. It’s a veritable beehive of galleries, and a swank place to be on First Thursday. In just one stop, you can feast your eyes on all sorts of fabulous art, and never once have to hail a (nonexistent) cab or risk running down the heels of your shiny new shoes on our lumpy San Francisco sidewalks.

It’s the little things that count, yes?

But back to the tour. The Warnock and Tat Galleries are a wonderful way to get lost for an hour or four. Robert Tat carries prints from master photographers – think rich, breathtaking images from Imogen Cunningham + Edward Weston + Sebastio Salgado – while Larry Warnock carries an impressive collection of fine art prints from master printmakers.

I could have spent an entire afternoon there, but we were soon tucked back inside the limo, speeding off to SomArts near 9th & Brannan, where we met two phenomenal artists: Carlos Loarca and Betsie Miller-Kusz. Carlos is an artist philosopher; he spoke eloquently about exploring his Guatemalan soul in the vivid pieces that he creates. Betsie shared her experience in overcoming her fear of water, and how water spirits began to emerge in her work soon afterwards.

 Carlos Loarca                                       Betsie Miller-Kusz

I don’t have enough space here to show you their work, so I’m going to have to create a Flickr set. Soon.

Hey, don’t go anywhere! We’re not through!

Random Photo Friday: My Grandpa Jeffrey

This is my Grandpa Jeffrey.

I took this picture the day of my Grandma's funeral back in October. We had all spent most of the day crying, and he was wiped out. I sensed how alone he felt, even in a room full of family.

Since then, he's done remarkably well in adjusting to life on his own. He's back to delivering Meals on Wheels to seniors who can't get out on their own, and attending OSU games, and driving all over Oregon to visit family members. He still misses my Grandma terribly - we all do - but he's doing his crossword puzzles and planning a fence to keep the deer out of his yard.

See that checkbook peeking out of his shirt pocket? For as long as I've known him, my entire life, he has always carried a checkbook there. He spent the early years of his life in the tiny town of Sweetwater, Texas, picking watermelons and dreaming of bigger things. His mother wore a bonnet and smoked a corncob pipe. To this day, he speaks with a gentle twang and says "y'all."

Last time I saw him was in April, and he asked if I had filed my taxes yet.

"Of course," I replied. "I used TurboTax this year."

"Me too!" he exclaimed. "Isn't it great?"

He sent me a Facebook invitation a few weeks ago. My Grandpa - on Facebook.

I want to be just like him when I'm 84.

People become more precious when you remember that we only have a limited amount of time with each person in our lives.

Here's to savoring the moments we have with the ones we love.

x   x   x   x   x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x    x

Inspiration On the Interwebs

+ I've known about Superhero jewelry forever, but I only stumbled across Andrea's blog a couple of weeks ago. Every entry is soulful and rich, and I always leave feeling expanded.

+ This just might be worth a trip to Pennsylvania: the granddaughter of Andrew Wyeth gives personal tours of his work! It's on my Places I Want to Go list. Dang, that list is getting long.

+ Also on the list? A trip to Marrakech to visit Maryam and her gorgeous Peacock Pavilions. Look at those ceilings! *Gasp*

+ Susanna is making great progress on her winged messenger project. She'll be sending out these inspiring pieces all over the world soon...

It's the weekend.

LIVE YOUR DREAM.

Drawing Umbrellas + Marveling at the Brain

I did everything I wanted to do over the luxuriously long weekend, and a little more besides.

Observations:

+ Plump, freshly-picked purply-red organic cherries are worth every penny, but at $8 bucks a pound, I'm tempted to have them set in platinum and wear them on my ring finger. Bing Bling.

+ Pan's Labyrinth was haunting + lovely + sad. I had to squeeze my eyes shut and clap my hands over my ears during a few of the scenes. I get kind of freaked out over sadistic military personnel who enjoy torturing the enemy. I know - it's just a movie - but I can't convince myself that nothing is wrong when someone is getting their face crushed on the screen in front of me.

+ Capsule SF in charming Hayes Valley was full of fabulously creative people selling quirky, beautiful, fantastic handmade stuff. As a friend of mine said: "We're so lucky. Do you think street fairs in Wisconsin have stuff that is anywhere near this quality?" Not to knock Wisconsin, but she's right: we're really lucky. Psst: there's another Capsule show in October.

+ It's nice to get out of the city and drive across the bridge and have dinner in a sleek new space with a gorgeous brick oven and a Chez Panisse alum behind the counter, even if they still have a bit of work to do on what comes out of the kitchen. Adore those chandeliers.

+ My ongoing love affair with the New York Times online was stoked further this weekend with this article about Jill Bolte Taylor's discoveries following her brain tumor. If you haven't seen her TED Talk, you simply must. It's about 18 minutes long, and TOTALLY AWESOME:

I love the way she uses the word "choose" towards the end. I can choose to engage the right side of my brain. I can choose peace + connectedness.

I can choose joy.

+ Speaking of joy: less than one week to the R.E.M. concert.

+ So we can choose, right? But. If - hypothetically - you should happen to slip on a narrow wooden stairway and your tailbone should happen to thump-thump-thump down several of those same stairs, you may find that this whole business of choosing your frame of mind is rather more difficult than it seems, especially when pain radiates up through your torso and down through your legs every time you sit or stand or move a single inch. Hypothetically.

There are only four working days this week. Huzzah!

Finding Truth in Contradiction

Kal Barteski is one of those people who make me eternally grateful that someone invented blogging. I likely would never have known about Kal without her blog, and yet now she is a constant source of inspiration to me. Artist, author, entrepreneur, mother, wife - she's brave, creative and refreshingly frank about life's ups and downs. In a word: Rockstar.

Back in March, she posted a painting of a woman struggling to feel beautiful and she wrote this message:

This piece was inspired by my real life body and the real life weight that bothers me... A lot. I know taking the weight off is a slow process - and I think that it's just another part of the missing ease and patience I need to find for this old soul. I drew an accurate version of my body - and I disliked it - I fought with some creative block and pushed through it. When it was done - I really, really loved it. It was beautiful. Maybe so am I...

The painting struck a nerve with so many of us who deal with body image issues, and Kal announced that she would take commissions for "Tiny Custom Ladies" for one season only, during the month of May. I couldn't type fast enough to put my order in.

Take a peek at some of the beautiful ladies in Kal's Gallery. They're tiny pieces of magic.

At the start of the year, I told my sisters that this was going to be the "year of art" and that any and all presents they got from me would be some kind of art. Since then, art in one form or another has indeed been flying out my door, but when I saw this, I decided that it would be my belated birthday present to me.