riding around on my green bike I eat the licorice pieces that i found spilled in my bag, (first brushing the lint off). I wonder if I will associate the taste of licorice with my bike from now on. This bike has become my portable world here in this new place. It is my constant companion used to hold groceries, flowers, books, water, journal, snacks, and mail. I ride through the campus full of students and learning and the smell of school. books and pencils. i think about little things I will leave there, tiny art pieces for those who walk around with open eyes.
today I have a meeting at the university and then I am off to the library to find books on mr. munari.
in january i will be teaching a couple of classes. on drawing. and one on journaling. i am excited because I will be doing all of the exercises too. i read somewhere that the root word of the word 'educate' is 'edu' which means to pull, or to 'bring out' that which is already there or that which is latent, (I can't find the source for this offhand.) i like this image and remember how i felt during classes with my favourite teachers in art school. many days I would literally run to the bookstore to find books on things I couldn't wait to read about. the teacher's passion seemed contagious. and so I will share my books and excitement with the students, and I will show them how much i love to draw and write in my journals.
how there is nothing in the world better than to sit and watching the ink coming out of the pen.
to look at the small details.
to watch people.
to be your own research project.
to devour the world with your eyes.
to experiment.
we will see what emerges.
**********
also enjoying the work of Marti Guixe.
"When drawing the sun, try to have on hand colored paper, chalk, felt-tip markers, crayons, pencils, ball point pens. You can draw a sun with any one of them. Also remember that sunset and dawn are the back and front of the same phenomenon: when we are looking at the sunset, the people over there are looking at the dawn." ~Bruno Munari
I am officially obsessed with designer/illustrator Bruno Munari. I must get this book.
"To grow is to go beyond what you are today.
stand up as yourself.
do not imitate.
Do not pretend to have achieved your goal, and do not try to cut corners.
Just try to grow."
~Svami Prajnanpad
i don't know what i am craving today,
but it is something...food, adventure, new clothes?...
maybe it is a deep red coat with embroidery on the sleeves
a coat that speaks loudly when it enters a room, i like clothes like that.
a coat that asks you to go out on adventures together.
where does one find such a coat?
you can't go out looking for it, you can only find it by happenstance
while walking down a street looking at the cracks in the sidewalk.
all of my clothes have magical qualities,
special powers sewn into the linings.
these clothes are even harder to come by.
Today is a two sweater day.
I pull on my most powerful sweater of all, the off white one that was crocheted by my mom.
I remember watching in amazment as she made the strange balls on the cuffs and collar using the small grey hook. the balls look like large mints someone has glued on.
she wore this sweater for most of my childhood and now I know why...it is surprisingly comfy.
and infused with secret warming properties that warm the wearer instantly.
you are never cold in this sweater.
that is how all sweaters should be.
inspired by this and this, I've gone out to draw. talk to you later
Busy backson
oxox
She lives at the end of my street next to a quiet debris litered laneway that leads into the alley. It is not known for sure whether she is indeed an actual witch or if it is merely a neighborhood rumour. She can be seen hobbling down the street in the late mornings, the rickety wheels of her grocery cart making occasional scraping noises along the sidewalk. He cart is usually filled with various canned goods, the kind that sometimes make up the bulk of the diet of those who are old and lonely. Meals where the most minimal of preparaton is required, spagetti, sodium laden stew, potted meats. Her left eye remains transfixed on the sidewalk as she shuffles, I do not think she can see out of her right eye.
"The universe picks me up and drops me off without a map. I stand there on a road somewhere outside of any place I have been and just start walking home again." ~Jann Arden
Reading this quote yesterday gave me a moment of intense relief, like taking a deep breath (after which you realize you have needed to breathe for a while but didn’t know it and then find yourself taking several more.) Don’t we all find ourselves without mapless at times? I feel reassured to know that it is not just me. I feel calmed when a girlfriend writes me and says so gently, “I understand your struggles”.
More deeps breaths. So maybe the map is drawn along the way through shared human experiences. When I don’t reach out to people I feel like I am drawing my own map with a worn down crayon held between my teeth, the waxy taste bitter on my tongue. It is a gift to ourselves to be able to reach out to someone and say, “I am having a hard time” and then be open to receiving help in return.
Today I felt a weight lifting, I just forgot for a moment that I didn’t have to lift it all by myself.
Some other things that have helped…
…listening to CBC radio on the internet (helps me get out of my head during my day, and connects me with home.)
…running in the park. I feel soooo much better on the days when I run.
…fresh figs (this is my first year eating them and now I can’t stop)
…reading great books and immersing myself into another world for a time
…flannel sheets
…night time cuddling.
…tree hugs
...the film won an award for best dance sequence.
Had my first moment of contentment in the new place yesterday, I have had many happy moments with my husband but this one that dealt specifically with me bonding with my environment. It was for a split second while wandering in a bookstore, it was almost as if the minute I realized I was having it, 'poof', it disappeared. Much like happiness, the realization of it's presence sometimes causes it to run for cover, (don't want to jinx it). I think of a brilliant scene in the film "the hours" when the character says, "I thought this is what happiness feels like, and then I realized, no, this IS happiness." I love that scene. Many more of these content moments have come in, so I take the time to enjoy them.
I went for tea at a cafe I hadn't tried named Ciocolat (I am still unsure of the pronunciation), and the moment I walked in I realized I had found my place. I hadn't yet found a cafe that spoke to me (one I had been going to being where all the 'cool' kids hang out, read: attitude, another full of people on laptops, read: cold). I walked into this one and noticed a french feel, a big window of pastries (truffles, raspberry mousse, cakes), a fireplace, fresh flowers on the tables and an interesting mix of clientel. An older woman commented that she liked my sweater (the fuzzy orange one with strange burgundy fringe on the cuffs).
I settled on a triple chocolate cookie (which was more like a brownie) and cup of herbal spice tea (in an attempt to cut down on coffee). I sit across for a cool looking woman with light tortoise shell frames and a long orange embroidered jacket, she is engrossed in conversation with a dark haired girl, I can't determine what they are talking about. Another interesting looking woman is buying a pastry and I find myself coveting her thigh-length purple velvet coat.
I sit trying to come up with some ideas for an illustration job (some days it is nearly impossible to be motivated by the subject of investing no matter how hard I try). The wind blows fiercely outside and I find myself grateful for the contrast, a nice change from waking up to the same weather every day (I'm not complaining, it's just different from what I'm used to in the east).
A couple of students sit nearby, I hear them speaking of buying textbooks. A girl with a peasant skirt, and a german guy with a thick accent, the girl is flirting noticably. I find myself trying to determine the nature of their relationship, are they dating? Her cleavage makes itself known as she bends forward stabbing a thick slice of cake with her fork. He seems rather disinterested and I conclude that the relationship might be a little one-sided, his affections being a tad lackluster. My glance shifts across the street to an east indian woman walking with a young girl (about ten?) and a middle aged man, she is wearing a bright orange sari with green trim and yellow sequins. I think, how wonderful it is for me to see other cultures on a daily basis, (my small town was a tad homogenous culturally.) I missed hearing other languages spoken.
The first cold air helps me sink into the comfiness of fall, I come home to put on my slippers, cook up a pot of chicken stew and finish the last chapter of my book.
"If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair, we'd never have a friendship, we'd never go into business, because we'd be cynical. Well that's just nonsense! You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build wings on the way down." ~Ray Bradbury
I must have sturdy solid wings by now, I feel like I've been jumping constantly in the last two years, in the realms of love, career, friendship, home. Somedays I still find myself spinning from it. Currently I seem unsure of how to be, who I am in this new place. There are no routines developed yet, none of the habits that create a sense of familiar. Even the comforting things feel different (watching movies, reading). So I give myself the time to adapt, and try not to push myself too much.
Today I worked at a couple of morning collages which felt forced, nothing flowed, much like the feeling of sandpaper moving accross cement.
I've felt these things many times in the past and I know by now that it will pass. I know that at some moment when I least expect it I will become consumed with an idea or a project and throw myself into it with wild abandon, stopping only to sleep or to respond to the jarring ring of the phone.
But for now I partake in the simple things. Riding bikes through the incredible vegetable gardens in Village Homes, gasping at all the varieties of flowers. Fuscia zinneas, purple morning glories, the strange yellow blossoms of okra (one of my favourite vegetables). We sat watching the rooster (Fabio) with his wild feather hat act menancingly protective of the females in the coop, picked fresh figs off a tree and ate them (the best fig I've ever had, this place will spoil you on produce forever.) Picked some tiny red apples and met a grey and white speckled cat friend named Oslo.