Insisting on Daydreams

The trip was beautiful. The NY winter countryside is still dappled with all my favorite blues and grays and browns just like I imagine. The bird feeders continue to promise flocks of House Finch one moment and sets of Chickadees the next. The overcast skies storm with flurries and then with freezing rain and then with chilled winter sunshine peeking through in stripes and strands.

My trip was restful. It was lazy. It was full of homemade pie crusts and butternut squash soup and apple cider doughnuts. It was full of family and friends and family friends, comforting and casual with familiar hugs and sighs and glances and giggles. It was full of sweater tights and knee socks and legwarmers and hats and mittens. It was full of black tea and hot toddies and red wine. It was full of idealized daydreams and rich strange night dreams and the moments between seemed to roll out and slow down without much worry. My trip was restful, it was full.

I'm going to restrain myself from telling you all the things on my studio to-do list. I'm going to resist the deadlines and headaches and stresses. Instead, I'm going to soak in the blues and grays and browns, the pie crusts and apple cider, the quiet echoes of familiar hugs and sighs and giggles. I'm going to insist on the idealized daydreams, my own personal protest of sorts. I'm going to nestle down, make cozy, breath deep, continue to give thanks. xoxo, k.

Travels for Thanksgiving Day

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By the time you read this, I will be exactly 2,758 miles away from my cozy home in Oakland, CA. Instead, I'll be in a rural town in western NY preparing for a Thanksgiving feast with my dear mama. I'll be hours from any major city, marveling at starry skyscapes and barren winter fields and listening for the final flocks of geese heading for warmer weather.

I'll try my very best to shed my quickened urban pace while comparing pie crust recipes, scouring the rural grocery stores for one beloved Tofurkey, stockpiling mushrooms for vegetarian gravy, and fine-tuning our Thanksgiving menu until it promises to sing. (Oh, just sing!)

I am thankful for so many things. Every year, it seems I am more thankful than the last. I can only imagine how my old heart might just burst into 1 billion pieces in another 40 or 50 years. I think I get more tender as I go.

For my friends in the States, I send you warm wishes for a memorable and even magical Thanksgiving Day. May your pie crusts be perfectly flaky, your potatoes whipped to your satisfaction, and your stuffing packed full of fresh sage and thyme. For my friends everywhere, may you find a good reason to bake one delicious pie. I'll see you soon. xoxo, k.

Art Barn Dreams

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I love this place. I mean I really, really, really love this place. There's something about Pierce Point Ranch and the Tule Elk Trail at Point Reyes that just nestle right into the coziest chamber of my California heart. Perhaps it reminds me of the barns behind my childhood home where the lawn mowers sheltered nests of mice for the winter, and once upon a time, the chickens would cluck and coo under the huge willow tree.

Or maybe it's not the hushed whisper of the past but the quiet promise of the future. Or the big pretty dream. Maybe the collective urban artist dream for a well-ventilated, well-lit, rustic space to convert into an art studio. The dream for so much square footage of potentially messy space and storage space and creative space that we just might lose track of the extra inches that we are currently counting. Oh, sigh.

I love this place. Did I mention that? I really, really, really love this place. If I could, I'd move there and start an artist residency center and create community arts programming and figure out how to get the most artists the most studio space and I'd happily print, and sew, and take photos, and write poems from a good-sized barn studio of my own. I imagine looking out to the elk and quail and barn swallows all passing by in the tall beige grass beyond my studio window.

And I'd add a big shaggy dog and a few sweet cats and probably half a dozen clucking and cooing chickens too. Maybe a few sheep or some goats after I settled. And all of you could join me there too. Yes, every last one of you. And we'd live happily ever after. Yes, we would. We'd live happily ever after in our well-ventilated, well-lit, rustic space converted into an art studio. We'd live happily ever after. The End. xoxo, k.

My Very First Renegade Craft Fair

Hi friends,

I have a good news. I'm going to be a vendor at the Renegade Craft Fair in San Francisco this December. Hooray! I am simultaneously thrilled and terrified by the tasks of making oodles of products, finding eco-friendly packaging, and designing and building my booth displays. I am about 70% thrilled and 30% terrified, so let's hope the percentages stay steady as the craft fair approaches. I imagine this will feel something like preparing for an exhibition with the addition of a few dozen biodegradable cellophane bags and several stacks of business cards. (Note to self: I can do it!)

In preparing for the fair, I'm trying to organize my thoughts now so I can spare myself a bit of the "almost-there-keep-working-stop-sleeping" jitters that will inevitably descend about one week before the show. So, I'm making lists of new products, old products, packaging needs, display needs, and collecting materials too. I'm torn between creating new products while also wanting to streamline the creation of old products too. What's your vote--focus on old or new?

I've attended the SF Renegade fair a few times but I've never been a vendor. I'm always so inspired by the talent of the artists and artisans, so I'm honored to join them this winter. AND... if you've ever been a vendor at Renegade or a similar-sized craft fair, please do tell your tips! And if you've never been a vendor but you've been a happy buyer, please do tell your insights. I'm all ears and will be grateful for ever and ever and ever. Now then, wish me luck and ample black tea. xoxo, k.

TTV Adventures with Hula70

one,

two, buckle your shoe.

three,

four, close the door.

five,

six, pick up sticks.

seven,

eight, lay them straight.

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Recently, I had the divine pleasure of taking a Through The Viewfinder (TTV) workshop with the lovely and talented Andrea Jenkins, aka Girl Hula. I love Andrea's photographs and the insights and humor she shares through her gorgeous blog, Hula70, so I jumped at the opportunity to take her workshop while she was visiting San Francisco.

I used to take TTV photos quite a bit, but I've fallen out of the habit so this workshop was just what I needed to pick up my strange but beloved TTV contraption again. It was a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon: following another artist's thoughtful lead; wandering the streets of the Mission District dodging the unfortunate and insistent rain; toting my cameras with more courage for portraits than I can usually muster; snacking on cupcakes and sipping hot chai. What could be sweeter?

If I had an unlimited budget for art supplies then I would buy heaps and mounds of Polaroid film, settle on a new medium format camera with a much fancier lens, and I'd have a dozen or so of my TTV images blown up really, really big. (Le, sigh.) For now, I'm thrilled to have met dear Andrea, taken her inspiring workshop, and to ease back into the TTV ways again.

My friends, I hope you are having a very lovely week. xoxo, k.