Friday, April 24, 2026

BLUE SKY AND CLOUDS

Colorado Clouds


Every day since we moved to San Francisco, I've gotten up, walked to the same window and taken a picture of the view across the way. Each month I assemble the month's photos into a mosaic, all of which remind me of the changes in the weather that occur over time. 

This year we have had unusually hot days in March and little rain since last fall. We had a good rainstorm a couple of weeks ago with one bolt of lightning and the accompanying thunder. We don't have either very often in our more usually wet winters. The thunder reminded me of my family's trips to Minnesota in the summer when clouds would gather over the prairie, so the day became as dark as night, sheets of rain pounded the ground and lightning edged the horizon. When storms gathered or trailed off, large thunderclouds rolled across the sky. Minnesotans know weather.

Coastal Californias don't see that kind of weather often. Summers in San Francisco tends to be foggy, which flows over the city until the skyscrapers are hidden away. Fireworks become mere flashes of light in the gloom. When the fog breaks, the edges are soft and wispy, unlike the hard edges of thunderclouds. When a storm is over, the massive clouds drift towards the horizon. Yesterday driving home from across the Bay, I found myself in a gully-washer with the spray from cars and the fierce rain making it hard for me to see the road and lane markings. This week we have been glad of rain.


In drought conditions here, the sky becomes a constant bright blue with no clouds in sight for weeks or months, to the point I yearn for weather other than sunny days. When I see clouds more weighty than the usual wisps that drift by, I look at the clouds with awe and watch how many variations of blue and grey and how they change shape so quickly as the winds blow them through the sky. I try to remember some of the names of clouds that I learned about in science classes: Nimbus, Cumulus, Cirrus, Stratus, Latin names from another era that help define their shape and place in the sky. High up are the Cirrostratus and Altostratus, the thin, brush stroke ones. At mid-level are Nimbostratus, ones full of rain, and closer to the ground, Stratus and Cumulus, all more substantial. And then there is Cumulonimbus, which reaches all levels and is the type of cloud I saw on the prairie before a thunderstorm.


Clouds in San Francisco


Looking at the sky every day reminds me how vast the universe is, how blue the sky, and how something as ethereal and powerful the clouds and wind can be. We can fly through clouds as if they are nothing, yet they can create major destruction.

Clouds make great painting exercises for watercolor. As a watercolor student, I have heard the mantra of painting hard and soft edges. That technique helps to give clouds volume, otherwise, they can appear flat on the page. Mixing cerulean or cobalt blue with a touch of magenta gives the sky depth. Adding a dash of yellow to the blue creates a grey that can darken and lighten to show how full the clouds are with rain. Once the paint is one the paper and still damp, I use a Viva paper towel to dab away some of the paint to create soft, white clouds. Another technique I've learned is to hold the brush so it is facing down towards the bottom of the paper. As I push the brush across the page, I don't get the little dabs that can happen when I hold the brush with the tip of the brush upwards.

Certain objects such as rocks, a tree in full leaf, water, bushes, large pieces of open area, adding the dark values, and the sky  can be difficult objects to paint. Did you notice how long that list is? I find that each time I start a new painting that it feels like a new beginning. I have to remind myself to slow down and think about techniques that work for me. That is a good time for me to look at the sky.


Cloud Practice





Old Barn

Friday, April 17, 2026

A PERFECT DAY

"Something to Think About" mini books

 This year is going by in a flash. Mid April and we've passed Tax Day. I look back through my calendar and wonder where the time went. I was already thinking about what makes a day meaningful and not just another hurried day, when I came across a question in an article in Uppercase, a creativity magazine produced by Janine Vangool, a woman from Canada. The magazine is full of creative ideas and one, this question, asked,

"What would be a perfect day?"

The question made me pause. I started to make a list: exploring with my husband Bill, sitting in a cafe with him, getting together with our son and his girlfriend, walking along the Embaracadero's part of the Bay Trail in the quieter spaces there, being with friends, taking workshops, exercising, writing, sketching in my art journal, taking a ferry boat ride. As the list grew longer and longer, I recalled the time during the Pandemic when we had to give up physical contact with friends and didn't travel, and I found to my surprise, that in giving up activities that I liked to do, I found Time. I found time to concentrate on creative projects that I didn't leave myself time to do when I was rushing around trying to fill each minute of the day with interesting experiences. Bill and I had more time together than we ever had before, which deepened a relationship that had flourished since college. Zoom contacts with friends and our weekly outdoor meet-ups with neighbors sitting six feet apart kept the connections that we needed. I found time to think through creative projects, problems, and ideas. By the end of the Pandemic, Time had give me a chance to explore and develop my creativity in a way that I had never given myself the chance to do. A year and a half long retreat from the world.


A quote from Erling Kagge's book, Silence In the Age of Noise:
 "Silence is about rediscovering through pausing the things that bring us joy."


I looked at my growing list and realized that each item could be a perfect day all by itself. How wonderful it is to spend a full day with friends. How delightful it is to look at Bill with fresh eyes over coffee or to walk with him in new places now that we have moved to San Francisco. How meaningful to find a place that is quiet amidst the hurley-burley cacophony of a city. How energizing it is to work on a project where my mind is focused on the possibilities of creating. I could fill up a year with "Perfect Days" but also could savor the perfect, small moments within an ordinary day that bring me inspiration, awe, and gratitude. With all the hardships that the Pandemic caused all of us, I owe the Pandemic for this new-found understanding of living life to the fullest.

I am glad I found the article about the perfect day. It reminded me to slow down, filter out too many possibilities, and treasure the odd moments as well as the days.


"We will imagine infinity."


***************


Thank you to all of you readers of my blog. 
April 2026 marks the twelve full year of posting Postcards in the Air.




Friday, April 10, 2026

BIRDS OF MANY COLORS



Do you remember photos of the New Yorker Iris Apfel with her big, black glasses and extravagantly colored outfits? Ms. Apfel was a legendary NYC fashionista, a word that describes someone who takes careful interest in their appearance and has the money to afford the clothes they desire to wear. She died at the age of 103 leaving behind an astounding  collection of clothing, jewelry, shoes, and furniture that eventually the auction house Christie's sold. Apfel is a part of a group of women that I think make an impression on our culture for their clothing choices and sense of style.


The first page of an A to Z sketchbook


In the 1960's, Twiggy, a British model, splashed across the pages of fashion magazines in her short skirts and dresses, tall boots, heavily made-up eyes, and thinness. She changed the style for many young women at the time. In San Francisco, the twins, Marian and Vivian Brown, walked around town arm in arm, enjoying the attention they received for their matching outfits and lifestyle. 

When we lived in Tokyo, natural, neutral colors fit in with the cityscape, except in Harajuku, Omotesando, and Shinjuku, where young people's fashions reigned. Except for teenagers, women tend to dress differently in the suburbs and the cities. When we came back to Danville, I felt out of place in my black city attire among all the bright colors and pastels in town.


Young woman in Harajuku, Tokyo

After moving to San Francisco two years ago, I've noticed a change in fashion. Full-legged pants sprouted on every street replacing the workout gear and tight leggings that women had been wearing. Guys, though, still seem to be strolling in tight jeans or in sweatpants. No statement there.


Airports and parks are great places to observe people




Portland, Oregon, is full of people and other things to draw



I try to capture some of the people who I see around town in my sketchbook. I remember visits to the city growing up. Back then, everyone dressed up, including wearing gloves and hats, to spend a special day in the city. Now, when I see men in suits, I wonder what business they are in. Lawyer? Bankers? Real Estate agents? Politicians? People who deal with the public? The tech-bro look is evident everywhere. When Bill and I go for lunch during the week, we marvel at the techie groups walking together for their lunch hour. They remind me of the flocks of pigeons on the Embarcadero that congregate in groups, following each other arouond, and flying off in unison.

On Sunday, Bill and I were having coffee when we noticed a man in a clown suit with a bright red ball on his nose sitting across the street. We wondered if he was the entertainment for the day somewhere. He became another person to add to my sketchbook. On trips to San Francisco's Museum of Modern Art, I'm delighted to see people dressed up as if they were part of the abstract art on display. 







                          


People-watching is always an interesting hobby. I can make up stories about who the people are and where they are going by what they are wearing. 


Here are two sketches. What do you think are the stories for these people?



Teen Boys on Valencia Street




Older woman on Muni Bus 22



*************** 

https://www.vogue.com/article/street-style-harajuku-tokyo


https://onlineonly.christies.com/s/unapologetically-iris-collection-iris-apfel/lots/3819


https://www.sfgate.com/local/article/Marian-and-Vivian-Brown-famous-San-Francisco-twins-16330809.php 




Friday, April 3, 2026

BRAINSTORMING


Practice pages with various types of lettering pencils

How many ways can I write a name? I asked myself this question while I'm sitting at my desk after a calligraphy friend proposed that I hand letter a list of names for a meeting in May. I hesitated. I'm not a professional calligrapher. There are many people in the Bay Area who have honed their calligraphy skills much better than I have, but I said yes anyway. I thought it would be a good challenge, a good way to practice, and I had enough time to figure out my design and alphabet choice for the list. If nothing worked, I could ask someone else to do the work.

I've scrolled through pieces that I've done using various alphabets and various names to come up with a plan. 



I  wanted to produce something more interesting than just a list. I thought of the grand certificates produced by the City of Los Angeles Creative Services Department, which are far more artistic than the certificates you might see hanging on the walls of doctors' offices. The LA Dept. certificates are routinely made by their calligraphers, but I knew I would need much more time than I have to create something as spectacular. (Click on the link at the bottom to see some of their work.)

What kind of format could I use? I thought of making each person's name on a pre-cut circle of watercolor paper, but that would create additional work to figure out a good way to show them on one board. 




I thought of using colored backgrounds so that the letters would be outlined in a different color from the letter itself.




I looked at examples of other lists I have made. I realized how often I make lines of letters touch each other, which makes for an interesting composition, but not particularly legible.




I could make the letters fat so that I could doodle inside them. I could use black paper with white ink or other colored paper with contrasting ink or colored pencil for the letters themselves. I could make the first letter of each name decorative like the medieval monks used to do, and then use monoline letters to complete the rest of the letters.






I could choose my favorite alphabets--Ben Shahn or Neuland--because I am already comfortable writing them. 



Here it is already April and I need to start to work on drafts of my project.


***************


* Check out some of the work done by the LA City Creative Services Dept:

https://share.google/hnMuoUD4k6NG5tsrk


Window View March 2026



Friday, March 27, 2026

MY FAVORITE WORD




If you walk along the streets of San Francisco or any big city, you will notice buildings with the names either painted on the brick facade or engraved into the concrete of the buildings.  Often the owners whose name adorn the fronts are long gone and long forgotten. I think of my first favorite word when I see these buildings.


First draft of the word Hubris

Hubris is a word that has stayed with me since I studied Ancient Greek Literature and read the Oedipus Rex trilogy, the story of a young royal who meets his father at a crossroads, kills him, and then goes on to marry his mother. Since his parents left him on a rock as a baby, he wasn't aware of their parental relationship  until too late. The trilogy shows the consequences of his early actions.

The definition of hubris, "Exaggerated pride or arrogance, motivated by spite," fits so many powerful, fictional characters such as Shakespeare's Macbeth or Captain Ahab from Moby Dick, but hubris also fits powerful, real people who make choices out of arrogance. We can all think of Napoleon and Hitler as prime examples.

Major religions all have some form of the expression, "pride goeth before a fall," within their teachings. Different cultures also teach universal moral values as described by an Oxford University study. The values include help your family, help others outside of family, return favors, be brave, defer to superiors, divide resources fairly, and respect other people's property.

In turbulent times, we need to remind ourselves of these teachings and phrases that most of us received in childhood. I remember one of the first poems I was asked to memorize. The poem is Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley and was written in 1817. Yet, its ideas still resonate.


Ozymandias

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said--"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert....Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing besides remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.




See you at a No Kings Rally on Saturday!


***************

Who is Audiffred? Read his interesting history here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audiffred_Building


Oxford University study about universal, moral values:

https://www.ox.ac.uk/news/2019-02-11-seven-moral-rules-found-all-around-world





Friday, March 20, 2026

UNFINISHED INSPIRATIONS

Unfinished projects


Like many fellow creatives, I have a stack of unfinished projects. When we lived in the suburbs, my answer was to invite friends to my house once a month for Craft Day. We would all bring something to work on. Friends brought knitting, quilts, jewelry, greeting cards, and photo albums, anything that stared at them from a closet, asking to be finished. We shared a lunch and companionship as well.

I also attend creative workshops, with the result that I come home with new unfinished projects that need time and thought to complete. Some of them are watercolor projects, others are book arts projects, and some are calligraphy. All of them asking me for time.

In front of me is a small completed project, a simple box about two inches by three inches that I covered in marbled paper made by Pietro Accardi, a marbled paper master. All I need to complete the box, which I named "Quote Collector," are some quotes that grab my attention. So far, I have two that relate to creative thinking:



As I look at these two quotes, I realize I have the perfect place for them between scraps of failed watercolors that I had glued on both sides of heavy paper. I love the subtle hues of the cover, these watercolors made, and the pages that I've added inside seem a good place to write new quotes. Did I just add another unfinished project to my collection?




Pages from Landscapes of the Mind, unfinished booklet


At the Letters conference in L.A. last year, I created the beginnings of "A Stamp Book." The pages each contain one stamp. I started the book by writing something in pencil about each stamp or adding a quote from the person featured on the stamp, but I'm only halfway through the book. I still need to add something to the stamps that represent Clara Barton, World Peace Through Law, the Boys Club and Camp Fire Girls, the Lincoln-Douglas Debates, and the Statue of Liberty. Maybe I will just add the phrase carved on the Statue of Liberty to my page. And I need to rewrite the statements in ink. The book is a reminder of my stamp-collecting hobby when I was in grade school, and also that stamps acknowledge, in miniature form, parts of our history.


Stamp Book with quotes ready to be written in pen

I still purchase stamps at the post office. This week, I went to the huge Rincon Post Office building that covers an entire block. The post office has been moved to one corner, but is still city-large. I was one of three people walking towards the teller behind the counter. Our steps echoed against the marble floor. I thought of how busy post offices used to be. I would avoid certain times of the day to miss the long lines. Though the lines may be reduced, I feel the same way about the post office as I do about paying taxes. It's a privilege to have both. The post office is still an important service provided to Americans, no matter where they live.

The original Rincon post office is now a small museum, which has maintained the murals painted around the walls after WWII. The murals depict parts of San Francisco's history, some of them full of labor strife and protests. The murals became controversial during the McCarthy era when some considered them un-American because they didn't depict the celebration of the idea of America. That reminds me of the parts of our history that our government is trying to remove now.

At the counter, I asked for a sheet of the LowRiders stamps with images of the low-rider cars that used to be mocked when I was young, and that represented a side culture of Mexican American resistance to the Hot Rods of the day. Since moving to San Francisco, we noticed on weekends cavalcades of Low-Riders as they drive the Embarcadero towards the Golden Gate Bridge. The cars are amazing to look at, not only for their engineering, but for their meticulous paint jobs. The deYoung Museum now displays two low-rider cars in its main lobby, showcasing their artistry. By acknowledging the creative work found in these cars, our culture has opened up to consider the ideas behind these cars and the people inside them as important and relevant to our mainstream culture. Besides, the stamps also highlight the Low-Riders' use of the Gothic font, a connection to calligraphy, too.


Low-Riders Forever Stamp


Friday, March 13, 2026

SPRING-GLORIOUS



Do you remember reading e.e.cummings in high school? One phrase he wrote, "mud-luscious," stuck with me. Last weekend, instead of mud-luscious, the weather was "spring-glorious." Golden poppies, nasturtiums, apple tree blossoms, and daffodils crowded the hills in the East Bay. The Carquinez Straits between Benicia and Martinez sparkled as tankers moving away from Sacramento through the water out to sea. Early Spring in California. Nothing seems to be wrong when it is Spring in its flourishing best. Blue skies, blue water, flowers covering hills, slight breeze to keep it cool. For a while we could forget the horrendous news that drops into our sight every day.

Since living in a city again, I have lost my sense of direction, which was so easy to determine when I had hills, tree shadows, and changes in the season. In cities, buildings nullify my sense of direction. This week, the sun came through a different window in the morning. The reflection off of the skyscraper windows sent the light not from the east, but from northwest instead. No wonder I am confused.

I find myself having to orient myself when I am walking on a street filled with tall buildings as if I am in a dense forest with nothing to direct me from one direction to another. The buildings' shadows fool me. I often turn in the direction I think I want to go only to discover it is the exact opposite, much like when we lived in Tokyo and I walked out of the Shinjuku subway and would take a wrong turn. There, every street looked alike with small shops packed together and overhead lighting flooding the streets like Las Vegas nightlife.

 The other day, I came out of a bakery on Market Street and turned to my left thinking I was going to head to the Ferry Building. Instead, I found myself facing the opposite direction where Market Street starts to disappear into San Francisco neighborhoods. Market Street runs the length of downtown ending at the Ferry Building near the Bay and in the other direction, wandering past the Castro till it culminates in Diamond Heights to become Portola Drive. I think I should be able to sense my direction, but again the buildings and shadows fool me.


"In a Churchyard Garden"

Portola is a common name in California. Gaspar de Portola was a Spanish Army officer who led the expedition with Father Junipero Serra through the lands of the Washoe, Raymatush Ohlone, Miwok, Pomo, and other indigenious tribes. We all know the effects of Western migration on indigenous tribes whose lands became the United States. The book, Ishi, the Last of His Tribe by Theodora Kroeber, represents the fate of so many tribes across the nation. Ishi was the last know member of the Yahi people. He came to San Francisco early in the 20th Century as a ward of a renowned anthropologist, and soon succumbed to tuberculosis, one of those diseases that white settlers passed on to various tribes. The name Portola, who was long gone before Ishi was discovered, still lingers as place names throughout California and remains a good reminder to understand more of history than just names.


Brass marker with the word in Raymatush for sky.
Raymatush is an oral language and doesn't have a written alphabet.
The plaque designer chose to show the English translation
in a different script from the Raymmatush.


California is a land of immigrants. We can find part of our history by looking for the origins of place names. Many names, such as San Francisco or Figueroa, refer to the Spanish exploration. Other places are words from the indigenous peoples' languages: Napa, the Patwin name for home, Shasta, Inyo, Siskiyou, Suisun, Sonoma (Pomoan for Valley of the Moon), and Tuolumne (cluster of stone wigwams) are a few. In San Francisco on King Street, we can walk on brass plates that form a dictionary of Raymatush words. By knowing the names and the history behind them, we pay silent homage to the tribes that Western exploration displaced.


Check out the list of indigenous names here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_California_placenames_of_Native_American_origin


****************


Let's pause in honor of these soldiers killed last week in the war in Iran:

Sgt. Benjamin Pennington, 26, of Glendale, Ky

Capt. Cody A. Khork, 35, of Winter Haven, Florida 

Sgt. 1st Class Noah L. Tietjens, 42, of Bellevue, Nebraska 

Sgt. 1st Class Nicole M. Amor, 39, of White Bear Lake, Minnesota 

Sgt. Declan J. Coady, 20, of West Des Moines, Iowa

Maj. Jeffrey R. O’Brien, 45, of Indianola, Iowa 

Chief Warrant Officer 3 Robert Marzan, 54, of Sacramento, California