ROOM TO IMPROVE

 In last week's post, I included a sketch page about traditions from Japan that included drawings of a Kabuki actor, sake barrels, and a young woman in a kimono. I placed them around the page and quickly filled the space with other traditional Japanese images including a torii gate, a sculpted tree, and Mt. Fuji. I didn't give myself time to think carefully about the placement of these images, but the sketch was good enough. But during the day after posting my blog, I kept thinking back about the sketch and knew I wasn't satisfied with the result. I decided to start over to see if I could be more mindful of design elements drilled into me in art school to create a better composition, using relationships between elements such as color, size, and shape.

 I have always enjoyed looking at an artist's sketches at museum exhibits more than their finished work. The sketches reveal a lot about how the artist's mind works. Showing the steps I took with this sketch could be helpful to help understand what goes into making a piece of art. 

First version with green

My first sketch needed something so I put a ribbon of green and embedded the words, Japan and Nihon, into the green space. The green helped to tie the various images together, but it still felt jumbled to me. I also didn't like the top part of the kimono. It looked muddy instead of the beautiful fabric that a kimono would often show.

Version posted to my blog last week with green ribbon added

To start over, I went back to tracing paper and traced over the shapes from the original. I made the torii the dominant feature in the center of the page. I knew that its reddish color would bring the eye there first. I moved the shapes around so they weren't as randomly placed as the original. I also made sure that each image touched something else on the page.

Rough draft on tracing paper

 

I used black markers to outline the images as well as the space around them. I painted most of the images with watercolor. I made sure that I limited the number of colors and had each color placed somewhere more than once on the page. Once I had finished that, I looked again and still felt that something was missing. I used a black marker to connect the images together within the rectangle. I think it looks better, don't you?

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This week in San Francisco is Fleet Week, a pageant celebrating our sea and air military. While I am writing this, I am also listening to the roar of jet planes as they practice close maneuvers in the sky. They are amazing to watch. The birds are silent. Usually, the birds scream after loud noises such as fireworks, but maybe Fleet Week, which has occurred for more than 20 years, is already on their calendar and they have found respite elsewhere.

FINDING YOUR WAY

I participated in Sheila Delgado's September challenge.
Here are some of the pieces I did for the daily challenges.

"Each of us comes from somewhere with blossoms."  Victoria Chang

Victoria Chang's thoughtful idea graced the back cover of Poetry Magazine recently. Reading the sentence reminded me of our move to Toyko. We joined with numerous expats from all over the world in a city crammed with over 21 million people. Bill's company gave us lots of move-in information, but the best was a booklet titled "Bloom Where You Are Planted." Most of the expats, like us, stayed only for three or four years and moved on to another expat assignment, while a few put down roots that went deep into the Japanese soil. In either case, a move out of our own country changed and challenged us.

In the first few weeks after moving to Tokyo, we spent almost every day walking our neighborhood, trying out the subways, and looking for something familiar. We lived in Minami Azabu, a district near the center of Tokyo where many expats lived. National Azabu, the local grocery store carried some Western products such as muesli, but many Americans shopped through the Foreign Buyers Club, an early delivery service, to acquire flour, American cereals, and Pop-Tarts. On nearby Hiroo Shopping Street, we found La Jolla, a Mexican restaurant that gave our son something familiar. The staff embraced him with joy. We slowly found other places that became our go-to places, a creperie on a back street off of Omotesando, an elegant tree-lined shopping street near Meiji Shrine, an Italian restaurant around the corner from our apartment, a cafe with dense hot chocolate, much better than the kind we made at home, and Itoya, with its bookstore and floors filled with an array of art materials and office supplies. Those simple connections to our previous life allowed us to step into a world we grew to love, and which challenged our beliefs and values.

Traditional Japan

Learning the language became the biggest hurdle in Tokyo. We came from a country with a language based on the Roman alphabet with 26 letters. We faced a language with 2136 characters in daily use and drawn with a brush, read mainly vertically instead of horizontally, and based on Chinese kanji symbols. We lost our literacy when we arrived as we tried to decipher signage and documents written in kanji and the two other Japanese alphabets (hiragana and katakana). Nothing was familiar. We began to understand how difficult it is for someone to move permanently to another country while trying to learn a different language and culture. An expat has choices: to hide from the overwhelming, to grow bitter, or to embrace the challenge of learning and adapting to a new life and new standards. During our learning curve, we went through all of those phases.

When we returned permanently to the United States after almost six years in two different countries, our son, who was entering high school, said, "I wouldn't be the same person that I am if I had stayed in Danville."

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September Window View

While diving down a Rabbit Hole on the Internet, I found this intriguing challenge, which offers activities close to water in the winter. Bodies of water are appealing to me and I find it calming to be near the ocean. Does water have the same effect on you?

Blue Mind Challenge:

https://www.bluetonic.org.uk/winterchallenge

SURPRISE CONNECTION

Heart sculpture at Salesforce Park, 
one of many scattered around San Francisco

One of art's purposes is to question your understanding of what you see around you. SF MOMA recently installed a thought-provoking exhibit of the work of sculptor Kara Walker called "Fortuna and the Immortality Garden." The garden includes 8 metal automatons embedded in obsidian rocks. It takes a moment to realize that each figure moves. One lifts its arms up and shakes the bells attached. Another strums strings along its belly. Each moves slowly and is mesmerizing to watch. The surfaces of the statues and the rocks are dark and foreboding. The information plaque about the grouping explains that the exhibit "considers the memorialization of trauma, the objectives of technology, and the possibilities of transforming the negative energies that plague contemporary society."

Part of Kara Walker's "Immortality Garden" at SF MOMA

We stood in front of a 20-foot female figure, who very slowly spit out a piece of paper. The slips of paper covered the ground around her and looked like the paper from a fortune cookie. Each one had a different proclamation. Ours said:

A hopeful proclamation

We sat down on the wooden staircase leading up to the main part of the museum and watched as the automatons moved. The exhibit is planted on the ground floor at the back entrance to the museum, which is a foot or so below street level. We both looked out the window behind the exhibit as a 6-foot tall rabbit, a Star Wars character, and a tiger-like being strolled by. Were they part of the exhibit?

No, they weren't, but the people had costumes so well created that we gathered ourselves up, walked out the door, and followed the strange costumes down the street. We found at the corner the entrance to the How Weird Street Faire at Howard and Second, which unbeknownst to us has roots from the Be-Ins in Golden Gate Park in the 1960s. We discovered that to enter we would have to hand over $40 each. We turned away wondering what the whole thing was about. We weren't dressed in costume and we felt bombarded by the too-loud music coming from the fair. We watched as more and more young, costumed people entered the fair. Later, after Googling the event, we discovered that its purpose is to encourage the union of art, music, and technology and to promote peace. I thought back about the two events, Kara Walker's Immortality Garden and the How Weird Faire. Their themes connected them together after all.

The fair is something to put on our list for next year. And don't miss the Kara Walker's exhibit either.

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Find Kara Walker here:

https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/fortuna-and-the-immortality-garden-machine/

The How Weird Faire here:

https://howweird.org/about-how-weird/ 

FINDING GOOD NEWS

This drawing of a Japanese maple in autumn
is a reminder that trees are a symbol of hope.

I have heard from people who say they take time in their day for a cup of coffee and a few quiet moments to read my Friday blog post. That is a thrill to me, especially with the repetitive news that is getting more intense the closer we are to elections. I've been cutting down on cable news, and not reading opinion pieces that say the same thing over and over again. I know whom I am voting for and I want to put my mark on my ballot as soon as I can. 

When people ask me what my blog is about I pause to think. Originally, my main goal was to combine my writing and art together. I wanted to show how my artwork has influenced my life in many ways. The practice of art has taught me a lot about failure, persistence, and "getting up, dusting myself off, and starting all over again." Making art and focusing on something in the moment has been a good way for me to let go of tense emotions to find some measure of peace. I am glad that other people have found my blog to be a place to find some serenity as well.

So often I hear people say that they can't draw. My answer to that is to practice. Would you expect an engineer to design a building without the study necessary? Neither should you expect to be an artist in a quick minute. Doodling is an easy and meditative way to begin. Start by learning contour drawing. With just a pencil and paper pad, you can study an object and draw its contours. As you slowly follow the contours of the object with your eyes, draw a line on your paper. Only look down at your drawing when you change direction. You will find you have created a drawing that is not an exact likeness, but rather one that has given you an understanding of the shape of the object as well as allowed you to let go of perfection. Neurographic art and Zentangle designs are two other doodling techniques that help you focus.

Drawing the inside & outside of a face
without looking except when you change direction

Use contour drawing while looking at the page

Zentangle design

Neurographic art

I have turned off the news that runs through my head (have we really learned anything new about the candidates in the last couple of weeks?) and I look for something to read that is positive. The newsletter, Reasons to be Cheerful, was created for that purpose. The articles are filled with hope and the positive actions of people who are trying to improve our lives. Scientific American has an article called "Being Empathetic is Easier When Everyone's Doing It." Wouldn't it be good to remember that idea in our daily lives? If you, like me, are tired of the race-baiting, bullying, demeaning of others, and lying that is the hallmark of Trump and the MAGA movement, I hope you will join me in voting NO to their cruel behavior. Vote on November 5 like your country depends on you!

Autumn Bounty -  watercolor
The first day of autumn is this Sunday!

Reasons to be Cheerful here:

https://reasonstobecheerful.world/what-were-reading-london-first-baby-beavers-400-years/

If you are intrigued by the importance of beavers, read Beaverland, How One Weird Rodent Made America by Leila Philip

Have you noticed how much empathy has disappeared from our public places?

Read this Scientific American article about empathy:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/being-empathetic-is-easier-when-everyones-doing-it/

QUIET PLACES

The best part of living in a city is the convenience of walking instead of driving, going to events such as baseball games and parades that occur nearby, eating in numerous restaurants, attending plays and listening to newsworthy speakers, and living within a diverse community. I learned long ago that I also needed to discover quiet, green places in a city to stay connected to nature.

Right out of college, I moved to NYC. Luckily my roommates and I found an apartment on East 88th Street, a half block away from Carl Shurz Park with its Gracie Mansion, where the mayor lives. We couldn't have found a safer place to live in a big city. I could walk through the park, look towards the 59th Street Bridge, and watch the ships and boats ply the East River.

When we moved to Tokyo in 1998, we were lucky to find an apartment close to our son's school, Nichimachi. To reach the school we walked through Arisugawa Park, along a pond full of turtles, green meadows, walking trails, and a 700-year-old ginkgo tree. Early in the morning when we came to the sports fields at the end of the park, we could watch groups of young teenagers, dressed in baseball uniforms, performing drill after drill before they left for school. Once Theo and I left the park, we would pass a woman outside her front door. I would greet her with a slight bow and the formal morning greeting, "ohayo gozaimasu."

When we moved to Paris, we were close to the Bois de Boulogne where we could watch groups of men playing petanque, the French version of bocce ball. We spent more time in Passy at the Jardin Ranelagh with its puppet shows, at the pond in the Tuileries near the Louvre, and at Parc Monceau, on the Boulevard de Courcelles, with its elegant mansions surrounding the park's meadow. Besides the public places in Paris, we had the traditional window boxes filled with geraniums that are seen everywhere. Those geraniums helped to brighten my day.

Here in San Francisco, we've again been lucky to find an apartment next to Mission Creek with three small parks on each side of the building. The two of us walk over to the park that lines the creek to sit and watch seabirds and people going by.

We will be moving soon to a new place in South Beach at the bottom of Rincon Hill, just blocks from the Financial District with all its traffic, concrete, and glass high rises shading the streets below.

I've discovered my new quiet place, South Park, (named long before the TV Show), a block-long park sandwiched between 2-to-4-story red brick and Art Deco buildings. It's a hidden gem, not only because the height of the buildings reaches my maximum for human-scale buildings, but because it has a long history. South Park, the oldest park in San Francisco, was designed as an English strolling park in the 1800s and the street has housed everyone from well-dressed strollers to longshoremen to families and pensioners. Recently, small tech companies have opened up shop in the buildings that line the park. The employees, mostly young, collect together at lunchtime on the metal tables spread throughout the park. Families gather around the unusual climbing structure at one end of the park, and solitary people rest on the benches in the shade. The park is already a good place to go after picking up a coffee from the cafe around the corner. A quiet place in the city. 

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Reimaging South Park:

https://www.fletcher.studio/southpark 

FOGGY ADVENTURE

Sooty Shearwaters hunting anchovies

The anchovies are running up the coast again. Last year in Aptos, we watched as an extraordinary long line of Sooty Shearwaters skimmed across the top of the ocean above the swimming anchovies. This year, first the seals and sea lions gathered in great numbers on San Carlos Beach in Monterey. Then came the whales. Anchovies are food for all these sea animals.

Cormorants  Photo by Bill Slavin

I've never seen a whale out in the ocean. On my birthday this week, we went on an adventure down the coast to Pacifica, a small town just south of San Francisco. Dressed for a sunny day, I looked out the window at the blue-sky morning and turned west towards the ocean. I saw fog. I wondered if I was dressed warmly enough and grabbed another layer. We set out down Highway 280 to Mussel Rock Park. As we turned into the parking lot, a small sand-colored coyote scampered across the road and up an incline. He stopped, turned his head, looked at us, and watched us go by.

The fog hadn't lifted as we parked and walked towards the cliff's edge overlooking the beach. Mussel Rock was barely visible at the bottom of the cliff and the ocean had disappeared behind the fog. We disturbed a young man who sat on a picnic bench near us. No whales to view here, but a spot for someone to enjoy a few moments of quiet.

We decided to look for coffee and headed further south to Pacifica, which is a small beach town broken into three coves by the hills that run down to the sea. We drove around the homes on the first cove, then stopped at the middle section near the municipal pier. The fog lingered around the fishermen who lined the pier. They talked with each other in various Asian languages as they fiddled with rods, lines, and bait. They too were there for the anchovies. We watched as one caught an anchovy, unhooked it, and placed it in a bucket filled with seawater. We looked for the horizon but the fog still covered the ocean. No whales to see there.

Pacifica Municipal Pier    Photo by Bill Slavin

We continued our trek along Highway 1 and came to the southern section of Pacifica. The fog had lifted  and before us, we saw another cove whose shape created a surfer's beach. Surfers lined the waves, their legs dangling off the edges of their boards while they waited for the perfect wave to bring them back to shore. The sun brought warmth, and we parked and walked toward the sand. We looked to the horizon and couldn't tell at first if what we saw was an illusion. Finally, though, we spotted a spout of water erupting from the sea, and then a black object moved up out of the water and back down. Far away, but a glimmer of a whale indeed. We watched a flock of white gulls flying around the same spot and saw spout after spout break the water's surface. To our delight, one whale breached so that its head and white throat shot out of the water.

Pacifica State Beach   Photo by Bill Slavin

When we lived in Danville, a host of wild animals lived in our neighborhood. We heard the cries and yips of coyotes late at night, we scrambled to the window to watch deer leap over our low fence, looked for the one rabbit that visited our hill each year, watched out for rattlesnakes along our path, and marveled at the flight of swallowtails who would return to the garden year after year. A dense city like San Francisco also has wildlife, but they are mostly nocturnal and have learned to be wary of humans. We hear the calls of gulls, crows, and other scavenger birds early in the morning, but we don't see the proliferation of wildlife that we used to. Sighting those whales, even from a distance, reminded me what an effect nature can have. The desire to see wildlife in their own habitat makes me more aware of our connections with other life on Earth.

Whale-watching was a good birthday present.

Check out the Pacifica Whalespotting group on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/352947586172817/

IN THE MOMENT

 

watercolor illustrations for my postcards

This morning, I woke up remembering sitting around a table recently with long-time friends on a warm summer evening and the joy of being part of the relaxed conversation and camaraderie. I went to the window and watched a heron skim over the surface of Mission Creek. I sat to read an essay by a cousin, Carrie Clauson, about the importance of cousins.

Elizabeth Fishel, the leader of the writers group I belong to, once commented that the small moments we all have are not only personal but universal and can resonate with anyone, and are good writing material. Just before a summer hiatus of our group fifteen years ago, she suggested that we each send postcards to each other over the next couple of months. Her idea was my inspiration to write Postcards in the Air. I started with postcards I bought at a store, then found a printer who reproduced my designs as postcards, I sent out those postcards, and then I began to write a weekly post that I published as my blog.

This morning as I turned on the tap to wash my morning face, I listened for the cold water to turn to hot, a subtle difference in sound. I smiled and wondered again why the temperature would affect the sound of the water spilling from the tap. As I was doing my daily puzzles sitting on our tiny balcony overlooking the creek and Oracle Park, I heard what I thought was a very loud car radio blasting music. I wondered how anyone could sit in the car. Bill came out on the balcony and said it wasn't a car radio, but a soundcheck at Oracle four blocks away for the concert that night for Journey, Def Leppard, and the Steve Miller Band. I couldn't help myself and swayed with the familiar music. It was unbelievably loud, but we both wanted to go sit at the new McCovey Park across from Oracle to listen. When the soundcheck stopped temporarily, the Chinese string instrument music of the tai chi class exercising at the pavilion across the street from us gently floated in the air.

While listening to the sound check and then the Chinese music, I also watched a Zoom presentation by Carl Rohrs, a well-known calligrapher and teacher in the Bay Area, about the influence of early 20th-century poster art on the psychedelic poster artists from the 1960s who continue to produce work for rock bands. Rohrs showed posters that the group of artists created in the 1970s for bands such as Journey, Def Leppard, and the Steve Miller Band. As I was listening to his talk and to the different styles of music, I watched two small origami balls that a friend gave me that hang next to an open window. The balls danced quietly with the gentle breeze coming into the room.

The small happenings of life, including various levels of sounds, feelings, thoughts, music, and images, often seem to intertwine. These moments become a good way for me to beginmy morning.

paper balls made by J.G.

Check out Carrie Clauson's column about cousins here:

https://preview.mailerlite.io/emails/webview/341793/129465238831498616

Watch Carl Rohrs' presentation on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH70W3ZOhUI