Make It Or Bake It

For the last two year, the Sidekick and I have participated in Make It Or Bake It for Christmas. The idea behind it is to try and make or bake the majority of your gifts for coworkers, friends, family, or anyone you are giving something to because you feel obligated to. Just kidding. Last year, I knitted the girls I work with each something unique. This year I am doing the same. It is quite the endeavour. And, like last year, I am insisting I am going to start earlier for Christmas 2015. I never end up giving myself enough time.

If you aren't a knitter, or artistically awesome like the Sidekick who can draw, literally anything, there are other ways to participate in Make It Or Bake It. Two years ago I made caramel corn for a few family members, which I think they enjoyed, and this year I am going to try my hand at candies for those I love.

The simple fact is, I am too poor to buy everyone gifts (granted, knitting people things is also kind of expensive). And I also am finding the consumerism of Christmas daunting, which is why Make It Or Bake it was brought into fruition.

What are you making or baking for people this year?

The Endpaper Mitts I made for Tiffiny last year. 

Creative Hour

The Sidekick and I are trying to have a creative hour every night. From eight to nine. It's a tactic for each of us to focus on our arts. His being painting and drawing and mine being writing. I thought of the idea and wanted him to join me because if he doesn't participate then I'll feel as if I am ignoring him for an hour every night. Maybe even more, if I get on a roll. 

Last night was our first attempt and it was a complete disaster, though. I opened one of my old documents, a spark that fizzled out, and I wanted to breathe some life into it. Except, the dog I am babysitting decided he wanted to bite me, twice. And, believe it or not, I am one of those annoying people who are affected by their surroundings and what's going on. I love having the television on or music while I am writing, I can even handle the Skype noises when someone is trying to talk to me. 

One of these days, I'm going to finish these WIPs (work in progresses). If anyone asks, I'm not finished here. I have words to write. Books to complete. Stories to wrap up. Characters to flesh out. And plots to weave. Sometimes I worry about exciting stage left without having finished all these books that are half completed (some are even three quarters of the way there.) It concerns me that one day someone will look at my Dropbox writing folder and notice how most of the novels aren't finished. 

Then said person will write a blog about it. 

And the world will know how little follow through I have. 

These are the things I think about when my mind has a couple minutes to run off on its own. 

With all this being said, creative hour is simply a way to dedicate more time to what we love doing. Setting aside this time of day for our art means we have a reason to shut out the world, even each other, and just create. This is nice. Maybe tonight will go smoother. 

An Affair With Art

Today my father posted a link to a video about Vivian Maier. Up until today, I'd never actually heard about her. Turns out, she's a fabulous street photographer who spent the majority of her life documenting the world around her. As I watched the video, I was amazed by this unique woman who to this day has remained a virtual mystery. This artist captured thousands of moments through her camera lens and yet she died without anyone knowing about them. The negatives were only discovered when a storage locker was being auctioned off when she couldn't keep up the payments on it.

Determined to find out more, I turned to the internet. Really, the whole scenario fascinated, not just because this woman kept her passion a secret, but because her creative eye was so clearly a part of who she was and so many people who shared a piece of her life insist they didn't have any idea how extensive her catalogue had grown. Sure, they saw her with a camera, but they didn't see how important it was. It doesn't make sense. I mean, she had a hundred thousand negatives. Who doesn't notice that?

Anyhow, both the article and video detailed how solitary Vivian Maier was, how she had these introverted tendencies, and this desire to be anonymous. On the other hand, she was also a liberal woman who freely gave her opinion to anyone willing to listen. These two sides of her personality only intrigues me more. As I read the article and watched the short film, I became bothered by how people viewed her. This woman who amazed and captivated me, who I saw as a creative genius and someone to admire, was coming off very different to others.

They called her pitiful. Lonely. Sad. Alone. They talked about how terrible it was that she kept this hobby to herself. How she hid who she was. One girl talked about how heartbreaking it was that she could capture these relationships with her camera but never was able to have an intimate relationship of her own. No children. No husband. No family. No close friends. What a tragedy her life was!

Except, this wasn't how I saw it. Having these people talk about how unfulfilled Miss Maier must have been aggravated me. They clearly missed the most beautiful relationship she had.

We glorify human affection and grow up thinking getting married and having kids are the most important goals a person can have. We are supposed to spend time with our friends and family, to miss them when they are not around, and to covet hand holding and soft kisses. The problem with this is: we are all different. Some of us don't thrive on human interaction. Some of us are quite happy alone. Some of us seek peace of mind through other channels.

To me, Vivian did have an intimate relationship ... with her camera. A love affair with her art. This was her passion, her pleasure, something she thrived on doing. By not sharing these pictures with the world, she is telling us she loved her art, adored seeing the world through her viewfinder, and searching for the perfect frame. She needed nothing in return and was content to walk the streets and witness what other people passed by, these things people were too busy to notice. Vivian Maier captured tender human emotions and documented history, dictating which moments were to be immortalized through the lens of her camera. It saddens me that people have so grossly misunderstood her.

More than her camera and her art, Vivian had a relationship with herself. It baffles me that these people don't see how gorgeous and unique this woman was. She is not defined by a husband or children, friends or family. She is defined by her passion and the most important relationship in her life - her art.

I highly encourage you to check her out. She's beautiful.

Tattoos Hurt - FYI

For some reason, whenever you get a tattoo, people feel the need to ask if it hurts. Just so everyone is on the same page about this form of art. Yes, tattoos hurt. Quite a bit, in fact. It isn't always the same pain all the way through, though. It's varying degrees of ouch. Oh, and some areas hurt more than others.

Pain is a tricky creature.

In the tattooing world, it is known that the top of the foot and the neck hurt the most. Since I have both of my feet done, I will have to get a neck tattoo to tell you which one hurts more. Right now, though, I have to say the wrist hurts more, especially if you are doing more than a stupid line drawing.

Today, my Sidekick tattooed a beautiful cover-up on me. It took about three hours and thirty-seven of those minutes were this needling, burning, terrible pain I was certain I wasn't going to live through. I tried to not whine or writhe, but there were these tender spots I seriously regretted having done. Most of the other minutes were uncomfortable, but bearable. And about twenty-four of those minutes I was in very little pain. Regardless, the whole time there was hurting going on. 

Some people deal with pain better than others. Some people love pain. Thrive off it. Enjoy it. I am not one of those creature. That being said, I have a fairly high threshold for pain and just because I sat for three hours, doesn't mean someone else can. To be honest, I mostly did it to prove my Sidekick wrong. And also, I like finishing what is started on the spot, so there is no need to go back to it in the future. 

While I am sad to say goodbye to my adorable line bunny, I am happy to say hello to my new, bigger, more badass bunny. And also, I love my cabbage. So, I am very happy. Now I have come down from my adrenaline high and need to go to bed. Goodnight. 

Ogdred Weary

Today is Edward Gorey's birthday! For anyone who doesn't know of this uniquely amazing man, he was a master illustrator, creative genius, and one of the rarest gems ever to exist on this rocky plain. Not only can we celebrate his macabre books, which there are over a hundred of, but his unusual way of looking at life. This man was the true definition of strange and brilliant. And I am grateful he existed, for the world would have been a far less interesting place without him. Before Tim Burton, there was Mr. Gorey and his ominous tales told through a tip of a pen.

Even though Gorey's literary catalogue is deep and plentiful many of his works are hard to find, all because of his love for word play, especially anagrams. A lot of his books were published under pseudonyms of his own name, most notably Ogdred Weary. Another name he used was Eduard Blutig which actually isn't an anagram, but still a word game. Blutig is German for bloody or Gory. A few of the other names he wrote under were Mrs. Regera Dowdy, Raddory Gewe, and E.G. Deadworry.

Here are some more ponderable facts about Edward Gorey:

• His parents divorced when he was 11 and remarried when he was 27.
• He attended Harvard and roomed with poet Frank O'Hara 
• A lot of John Bellairs cover  art was illustrated by Gory.
• A few of Gorey's works were in fact wordless and his illustrations always had a Victorian and Edwardian style to them, not to mention an air of ominousness. 
• An unabashed 'pop culture junkie' Gorey loved television, movies, and soap operas. He stated in interviews his love for Batman and Buffy The Vampire Slayer. 
• Gorey was never married and confessed to have little interest in romance. 
• When asked about his sexual orientation, he said, "I've never said that I was gay and I've never said that I wasn't ... what I'm trying to say is that I am a person before I am anything else."
• His home in Cape Cod is called Elephant House and is now the Edward Gorey House Museum.
• This quirky gentleman left the bulk of his estate to a charitable trust for animals, dogs, cats and even bats and insects. 

A Gothic icon, Gorey stretched the bounds and falls into a very grey area. Though his artwork is often categorized for children, he did not write or draw for our youth, nor did he have much of a fondness for them. In truth, Gorey's works cannot be put into any one genre. Sure, you can find his books in the humour or cartoon section at your nearest bookstore, but he experimented all the time and often his artwork falls into a surrealist niche. Not to mentions his experiments - books that are wordless or ones the size of a matchbox, popup books or ones filled with inanimate objects - these only make it all that much harder to classify this man. 

Gorey himself described his work as literary nonsense. Which kind of only endears me to him more. Though he once said, "Ideally, if anything were any good, it would be indescribable." And that truly is what this man was. Good and indescribable.

Happy Birthday, Edward Gorey, you beautifully odd man. May your dark humour live on forever.