You want to see something scary?

You want to see something really scary?

I went and saw Paranormal Activity. This is the $15,000 low budget that is sweeping the nation. I was impressed. People will say it’s a knock off of the Blair Witch Project, and other shaky cam mocumentary films like Cloverfield. It is in that vein.

What I liked about it is was it scared me. It was a small audience but soon into the film you started hearing the little gasps, the soft swearing, and the nervous laughs. I started playing with my hair. It’s a scary movie with a formula, namely night and day. Boy and Girl live together in San Diego, girl is haunted by something. We watch their surveillance style video of the haunting. Couple bickers by day, and cling together at night. It’s a great formula. Because it brings you into that cycle with them. Everything is fine now, but you know the night is coming. Every time it switched to the night cam, you sit there feeling the dread rise. There is something really creepy about things happening while you sleep. There are no real special effects in the movie it just plays upon the most primal fear. Are you afraid of the dark?

Yeah I am. Maybe that’s why the theater didn’t fully dim the lights.

So I’m on the train with my sketchbook. And I’m listening to these three guys talking about the time they’ve done in prison. They are three young tough looking guys, a bit of a thug look to them. They are loud and sit near me but not close enough to really annoy me. I listen as they talk about the trouble of sneaking cigarettes into the prison. The tallest, best looking of them gets up and sits across from me.


We make brief eye contact and I smile, because I don’t any trouble, and they look bored and restless. Things can get weird on a train. But he smiles back and asks me politely if that’s a sketchbook?

I answer yes it is.

And here’s where it gets funny. He asks if he can look through it. Now I don’t know if any of you have ever asked me if you can look through one of my sketchbooks before but typically I grow fangs hiss at you and threaten to bite you. Or I carefully sit next to you and flip past personal notes and pages. I don’t just hand them over.


But this sketchbook is different. This sketchbook is the one that I instituted a no fail policy on. What? Yeah, I went a little crazy and decided that any page I put pencil to, I would finish the drawing, and ink it before I moved on to the next page. It’s hard. It’s intimidating as all hell. It’s now the best sketchbook I’ve ever had. I don’t love every drawing. Some of them do fail as compositions. But I don’t fail in follow through and it’s a huge accomplishment for me. It also contains no words. So I feel free to hand it around. But to hand it to this thug, my drawings are usually so sweet, I couldn’t imagine that he would be interested in it.


I asked him if really wanted to see it and he said yes and I handed it over, and watched him look at them. Tough thug, sweet drawings. Who better to review you're portfolio on a train?


One of the other guys glanced at the sketchbook and said "He's looking for the dirty pictures"


I laughed. "Good luck, you won't find any in there."

He looked me up and down and announced with some confidence "You don't draw dirty pictures."

With a smirk I told him "I have a different sketchbook for the dirty pictures."


The third friend laughed "My kind of girl!"

And we all laughed. The thug looking at the sketchbook pauses for the first time at this image.

"This one is about to get dirty" he said.







This one is the all liked. My dirty martini. They like the olives, they say.

That amuses me.



He had be flipping though with polite interest. But this one caught his eye. It's my crocodile welcome. He looks excited to his buddy, who looks bored.
I think he liked the impending doom of the fishes. The contrast of sweet and violent.

He tells me it's really good.

I'm pleased, my ego likes to be pet.





The next one he stops at is one of my favorites.

It's my flying squirrel. It's simple, but I have trouble with perspective, and drawing this from slightly underneath was a challenge for me.

And he appreciated something about it. He asked if I drew it free hand.

I did. I always do.

This one caught their interest too. The whole group again. Sex sells.

He told me the girl in the bathroom is the girlfriend. And the blond is her best friend, cheating with the boyfriend.

I told him that was exactly it. Because it worked, and it doesn't really matter what my story for it is.

My favorite though was the swift breath he took in for this one.

He sighed "Marilyn..."

She's still got it.

I drew this to illustrate "Legendary" and his sigh made me feel like I succeeded.

We parted ways at the next stop. Shaking hands and smiling, exchanging names. And I felt better than I have in a while. It left me feeling glad that I had something to share.

Fleet Foxes...

So my brother was visiting. It was a good visit. We love each other, just sometimes... sometimes we don't get along. Sometimes we get under each others skin. Sometimes we push each other. Sometimes it harder. The last time it was mostly good but... it got dicey at the end.

We talked about that after it happened. We both promised to try a little harder... our efforts were rewarded. The visit was good. And it wasn't so much harder. We talked about our little connections. The things we both like, horror movies, and TV shows, True Blood. And we shared our music with one another. We'd listen to music he liked, we'd listen to music I liked.

And so my brother introduced me to a song... Fleet Foxes - White Winter Hymnal

I was following the pack
all swallowed in their coats
with scarves of red tied around their throats
to keep their little heads
from falling in the snow
And I turned around and there you go
And, Michael, you would fall
and turn the white snow red as strawberries
in the summertime...

I'm not a music person. That is to say I don't go out of my way to listen to music. I never listen to the radio, I hardly pay attention to the song in the now. And usually the songs I end up liking are the songs that I've heard a thousand times. Songs on TV shows, commercials, in movies. Bludgeon me enough with a song and I'll usually like it. Although it may take me 10-15 years to get there. Sometimes... I don't know that I'll ever actually like the song. Take Losing my Religion, by REM, but I can sing every lyric with maniacal glee and a vicious mocking tone. Songs usually need to grow on me. And I miss a lot.

But not that one it was so shocking lovely. So swiftly moving... about 30 seconds in, I declares "I like this!" my brother agreed it was good. But I needed this song, I had to have it, right now. He looked at his ipod for me and told me it was Fleet Foxes White Winter Hymnal. We were in the car and I wrote it down on a scrap of paper and promptly forgot about it. Until I found my scrap again. Anyway check it out if you haven't heard it. And maybe you'll fall in love with it too.

I need a drink....

This post goes out to Marcie who enjoys a martini or two...

Like Dorothy Parker said, I like to have a martini, two at the very most, after three I'm under the table, after four I'm under the host!

I had a little a little problem drawing that crowed martini. I originally had the olives in the crowded martini having less fun. That little one at the bottom wasn't smiling. But I changed it because it made me sad. That poor little olive trapped at the bottom made me sad. What is wrong with me? Artist's should be able to express anything. I shouldn't care that I drowned an imaginary olive. I need to work on some mean images.

The other image is a dirty martini. I'm not sure if it turned out dirty or sweet though.

Oh well.

Cheers Marcie!

Hilo Hattie

I did this illustration for IF, the word was strong. And I immediately thought of a line from the Hilo Hattie Hop.

When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop
There's not a bit of use for a traffic cop
For everything and everybody
Comes to a stop
When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop

The sugar raises cane
Palm trees sigh
The ukuleles fret
And the birds won't fly
The humuhumunukunuku stop swimming by
When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop

That wahine has an opu
With a college education
There's no motion she won't go through
She doesn't leave a thing to your imagination

Now when Hattie does her stuff
They cry for more
And everybody knows
What they're crying for
The sailors leave the ships at sea and swim for the shore
When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop

Now when Hattie oni onis
There's no doubt
That she's a girl who knows what it's all about
Babies hush, women blush
Strong men pass out
When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop

All the folks in Hilo said "We love it"
But your dance is causing trouble
Hattie said "Think nothing of it
I'd do a bubble dance if I could find a bubble"

Now Hattie said she'd like to quit someday
And settle down for good on her old punee
The folks won't let her go because she's really okay
When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop

When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop
When Hilo Hattie does the Hilo Hop

"When Hilo Hattie Does the Hula Hop" was written by Don McDiarmid, Sr.

Ancient...

Grew up a few blocks from the Worcester Art Museum. When I was a kid I was all about the modern section. It was bold, full of color, and wild stuff. What I didn't like was the room of ancient Greek and Roman heads and vases. I had no problem with the ancient and stunning mosaics in the museum. But the vases... bored me.

It's funny though.... the way things stick with you. Even if you didn't like it... especially if you didn't like it.

When I saw the word ancient I thought of old medival spoon head art. But that was just old. Ancient made me think of those Greek vases.

So here's the thing. Why would I think of two things I don't particularly enjoy? And I was excited by the idea of doing a spoon head drawing. What is it about nostalgia that mixes up the good and bad and timges them both with longing. Anyway here it is... ancient.

Three and a half...

Three and a half…. go on and take a guess at what 3.5 means.

It could be anything. Inches, yards, miles, days, months, years, candy bars, drawings, pages, novels. The prequel to Eight and a Half.

It’s hours.

It’s hours of yoga I did today. It’s the most yoga I’ve ever done in a day. It doesn’t sound like much does it? But it’s a lot to me. I wish I did I more everyday. Maybe it’s the number of hours I should do yoga. It’s a lot. I feel exhausted but great. I’ll sleep well tonight.
I helped two Iyengar instructors with mock assessments. Each was 40 mi
nutes but we did 20 minutes of warm ups. So hours of yoga. An hour and forty five minutes and then my regularly scheduled 90 minute yoga class. It was Nadja’s first day back. And I couldn’t miss it. I love Nadja, she’s so great. I brought her flowers to welcome her back.

Carin and Cathy were doing mock assessments. And I participated in both. They were exhausting and exillerating and more nerve wracking because Patricia Walden was the one assessing them. Yes THE Patricia Walden. She is incredibly intimidating to me. She’s very beautiful and very kind and imperious in a way that is charming and commanding. She had us sing happy birthday to Rhanni (whose studio we used) and gave her a warm hug. She observed us during the assessment. She observed me. I can’t begin to express how that felt. I was nervous but focused, and I tried to listen and pay attention to the details of my asanas.

I f***ed up my shoulder stand on blanket that slid out from under me. There were comments that I rushed my set up. But I didn’t. I don’t rush that and I lined up the edges of my blankets evenly, In my class I help new folks with this. When I lay down to adjust my shoulders the blankets slide and when I went into plow pose I slid right to the floor and had to come out. I was frazzled and it took me a while to figure out the blankets has slid. I barely touched into what is normally my favorite asana.

The next assessment I used different blankets. I went up easy and it was fine.
Patricia commented. “You were much improved on your second shoulder stand” But it didn’t come out like that. It came out like “ Yoooooooooooou were muuuuch improooooooved on your second shoooooulder stand” It was imperious, it came out like a royal proclamation. I hastily explained my blankets had slipped. She said “But you improved on the second one” Yeah I used grippy blankets. And it really hit me that I had practiced in front of one of the great yogis. It felt great and a little horrible and I felt proud and humbled. She commented to another girl about her neck and another her knees. I felt I got off light. She’s amazing, she’s over 60 and I’ve seen her to a series of 30 plus backbends that were so beautiful I almost cried just observe. And she seems wonderful but I’m so intimidated. It was quite the experience and it renewed a certain energy to my spirit.

Cling...

The word was cling and I thought of being soaked and clinging clothes... and clingy men and starfish.

Theater...

I have three active blogs. One is in strictly for Illustration Friday images. Images that I often repeat here. One is new... its over at Tumblr I'm trying to post an image a day but slip up now and again. Often the images are old and have been posted here too. This one is the catch all. And oddly the most neglected. It's probably my favorite too.

So the image is theater. It's an old IF word. I'm trying to work through some of the old ones in between my active Illustration Friday Blog.

What a dull post. I think I'll go to bed now.

Wild...

Sometimes I think my wild ride needs more animals. I'm not sure what the tiger is talking about but clearly he is disgusted. Maybe he's upset about deforestation or global warming or what someone was wearing at the Oscars.

I'm sad about this...

Teddy Kennedy died last night. We knew it was coming, it's not a surprise and I sit about a mile away form the Kennedy compound feeling sad. I'm sad for the people of Massachusetts. I'm sad for the Kennedy family. I'm sad for the lack of privacy they have when they mourn. I'm more sad about that than anything.

We knew this day was coming but I couldn't help but gasp when I saw that he died. PBS had run a program on the Kennedy's a few months ago. It was a love letter to Teddy. They talked about how Teddy was very like his Grandfather Honey Fitz, the former Mayor of Boston and avid Red Sox fan.

Teddy the only Kennedy I ever met. Everyone in Massachusetts seemed to have met Teddy. He was everywhere.. he really was. If you ever wonder why we love Kennedy's here its because they were everywhere.

On the street where I live..

I have lived on my same street for 11 years. It's a small and lovely street, it's green with beautiful old houses... it ends with a church. I have often marvelled at the beauty of the street where I live. But it took me 11 years to notice thate there no telephone phone poles on the street that I live. There are tall street lights but no electical wires. My street is so small that they run the lines on live trees in the back yards. It's a wonder that we don't have more power outages. It only took me 11 years to notice that they weren't there.

Dr. Horrible is sweet!

No really, check it out at Cake Wrecks!

Wrapped up...

So the IF word was wrapped... and I knew I wanted to do an apron scene. I love aprons, in a bizarre way. I love all types of aprons. And there are so many cute aprons in the word! They are sassy aprons, sexy aprons, baking aprons, prison aprons, aprons for working with different substances, dyes, metals, glass, fire... the list goes on and on.

Somehow when I tell people I love aprons they are shocked. It goes against my feminist view points in their minds. I love my prison apron, you know the type dark blue heavy canvas one poket made in a prison? It's my favorite.

So I couldn't resist puting an apron on this poor fellow.

Regal...

The word was regal. I thought of being a kid and trying to make yourself regal, the sheet for a cape, the paper crown, the thought that macaroni would make it more impressive. Regal...

Vintage...

Pan Am has been haunting me lately. I should rephrase that Pan Am has haunted for years. Ever since the collapse of Pan Am in 1991, Pan Am has haunted me.

I always wanted to fly Pan Am but we never did as kid. We flew other defunct airlines, like Eastern. That was back in the day. I took an enormous 747 to Florida, from Boston. That's big plane to go to Florida in. They save those for the over seas flight now.

I love the Pan Am logo, and those beautiful Pan Am travel bags. Actually I was big fan of the Easter Airline's logo too. It was so simple, but I liked it. Apparently I liked their colors too. As I seam to have stolen them in my image.

But Pan Am has a certain romantic allure and the romantic history. Not to mention the classic advertising and the quintessential tropical poster. Not to mention happy planes :) But what plane it that tropical poster that's right it's the Honolulu Clipper. The old Pan Am Clippers, the Boeing 314 is the one that caught my fancy. Because I have a thing for flying boats. Note my love of Tales from the Gold Monkey and Jake flew a Grumman Goose, I love that back then, in the beginning there weren't enough runways, and this was the way get around it. You just needed a bay, some water... it was romantic.

I while back my pal Ellen lent me her copy of Night Over Water by Ken Follett. It's really a terrible book, it's hopelessly predictable, a romance novel, and very light and fluffy, but it is about the Yankee Clipper, it is utterly adorable, and it is perfect beach reading. So when I found a pristine hardcover at the thrift store, I could hardly believe my luck.

I thought Pan Am is haunting me again. Not a week later I was at the Christmas Tree shop and there was a Pan Am Clipper DVD I had to think Pan Am was haunting me. I bought it and was thrilled and disappointed. It was great, because it's Pan Am propaganda from the 50's and it's beautiful and fun to watch and see how priorities have shifted. And the planes! The lovely planes and services and sleep berths! But it's not about the clippers that I wanted to see. I loved it anyway.

Which leads to my image of vintage:

The idle rich...

The word this week was idle...

I wanted that lazy look of doing nothing in particular. Time is such a luxury and idle time even more.

I wanted something pretty and simple

I came up with a mermaid looking at some fish. Eh. Good enough.

Tango Tango Tango...

The word was tango. And it sure killed me today when I added color. First I spaced and didn't save my changes. Then I saved and closed it as a low res file. I recolored it for the third time and am afraid to every open it again.

Tango, tango, tango.

I thought of going military with it...

But I did military last time with the word hollow.

I had fun with that one.

Shaky...

This is over on my IF blog too but... the word is shaky. I look this a lot when I try to work on my Illustration Friday stuff. I do the whole shaking leg thing or I rock on my chair.

And speaking of shaky what is up with Sarah Palin. That was a shaky move. Does she really understand what a lame duck is? She kills me.

I'm not in love you but... I like you an awful lot.

Do you ever have those moments of connection with celebrities? You know the ones. Where you suddenly have that little thing in common and while you may have been fond of them before this opens up a world of possibles. When they reference something and you think... they may be all right after all.

Maybe you already liked them... like when I realised Wes Anderson and I share a birthday. Or how Joss Whedon watched Veronica Mars. Or when Patrick Rothfuss is not only wearing a Serenity shirt, but signed his post Later Space Cowboys.

Right enough Patrick Rothfuss.

Even I'm getting sick of me talking about Patrick Rothfuss.
Hadley would appreciate it.