30 Days of Making: Days 16, 17, and 18

Outside courtyard and bathroom lighting. Graphite

30 Days of Making: Day 15

So the below pattern (which I tried really hard to get an accurate photo of but not sure I succeeded... I may repost a better one tomorrow in the daylight) is inspired by my afternoon in Malibu. I was looking at the water and how the little lines of breaking waves recede and how there are little shimmers of orange everywhere from the sun... So I made an abstract pattern out of it.

Yeah. I went there.

I just wish I knew how to print on fabrics because I want to put these shimmery little colors all over my body or the wall or the window or my couch so I can always pretend I am in Malibu with the taste of salty air on my tongue and the cool breeze soothing the hot mess the weather inland has made of me and crisp water and rich surfer dudes everywhere

Yeah I have to stop that's gonna become a run-on at some point.

Ah, Malibu.

30 Days of Making: Day 14

Mmmm graphite.

30 Days of Making: Days 5-13

So I am bad at posting.

But I swear I have been working.

Like I said: napkin sketches, doodles, scribbles, but something is something.

So here's a few somethings.

30 Days of Making: Day 4

Sharpie, graphite, Copic markers.

Not a great photo, I'll try to scope out better lighting tomorrow.

30 Days of Making: Day 3

It was so hard to resist using orange construction paper.

Graphite and prismacolor colored pencils and pink construction paper.
Very sketchy. Tired from a day in Santa Barbara

30 Days of Making: Day 2

Sketch. Acrylic paints, graphite, and oil pastel. Sometimes pencil is nice because it makes the thought "yeah that's definitely not supposed to go there" feel a little less daunting.

30 Days of Making: Day 1

As I begin the search for work, and find myself straying farther and farther from my desired fields, I decided to take matters into my own hands and just start making.

I had a professor this summer whose advice to new graduates was to "just keep making." He said that most art majors don't keep making art once they graduate and I can see why that would be true. So, instead of falling into that trap, I'm going to keep making.

I've decided that for the month of September, as a personal challenge, I am going to make and post something everyday. Even if it ends up being a doodle on a napkin, I am going to do something. I was inspired by the Freckled Fashionista (30 items for 30 days), Rachel Wilkerson (60 days of sex? can't remember how many days, got distracted by "sex") and other bloggers' attempts to challenge themselves with this kind of timeline, and I think it is a great idea for me. It is a huge challenge, because I am sure there will be some days where I just don't want to, but I really want to keep the habit of just creating things. I want to find out if I can push myself through days where I feel "painter's block," as I fondly call it, and just do it (Phil Knight would be proud).

Speaking of, happy September 1st. Go ducks.

This lil guy is a warm-up involving some kumquats that grow outside my front door. One of the loveliest things about moving climates is all the crazy new flora and fauna... and fruit. These guys don't smell like anything until you open them up and then smell like the inside of an orange peel. But they don't taste sweet like oranges, they are more tart and tangy. If we can grow enough of them, I want to try to make kumquat marmalade, or a good compote to put in a dark chocolate cake. Mmmm. But for now, some paintings.

I used acrylics paints, sharpies, and Copic markers, which I received as a gift for graduation and have since changed everything.

And so it begins.

I wanna lick it all

Since the fated moment about a year ago when my painting professor slapped on a stroke of sherbety orange paint onto a rather dull figure painting, the color has become an obsession. Specifically when found next to most shades of purple. In fact, I like the combo so much I felt compelled to take a bite of the below fruity crap called "sherbet." I HATE sherbet. For one, it's spelled all dumb. For two, it has no chocolate, so what the fuck is the point? But it sure is aesthetically pleasing.

Here's another sherbety-lavender moment that caught my eye once (a happy accident between my recently orange dyed fabric and my smoothie with too much blueberry), caught on Instagram:

And a few more I found on pinterest:

Let Down

I have finally arrived in Calabasas. Yesterday I got in at three, and the moment we pulled in, it was like my body went, "ahh, now I can let down." So here I am, boxes and boxes away from being moved in, and my head feels heavy, I keep bumping into things, and I just can't seem to stand up for long enough to do anything productive.

Over the years I have noticed this about myself. That during weeks of stress, my body keeps moving, keeps up, stays up and about, and the moment all the stress is done, it let's go and breaks down. It's like it knows nothing is urgent anymore so it does not feel the need to stay functional. Instead, it takes a breath to recoup. But I need to unpack! What's the deal?!

Moving is such a simultaneously punishing and rewarding experience. For me as a new graduate I am thrilled to start this new chapter, but there is so much to do to get there. Just the mechanics are exhausting and the 102 degree weather is not encouraging. Nonetheless, Calabasas is a whole new set of sites, people, and attitudes so I'll take a day or two of rest, and carry on, I guess.

But in the meantime:

Counting the Hours

I am four hours away from this skyline, four hours away from the out-of-college life. I am sixteen hours away from every shade of green you've ever heard of, salmon, sushi, and sea-food for days, overcast skies, coffee like you can't dream of, the color YELL-O, the Street of Dreams, my first love, a vast array of liberal white people, birkenstocks, rain rain and rain, Puddles and cracked sidewalks, rain, so much nature you choke on it, an ocean you don't swim in, people slow and sweet, rain, low-key low-pace dress-down style, bunny rabbits on leashes, a house full of professional clowns, Country Fair peach shaped and crazy, bridges everywhere, Jewish matriarchs, bikes like it's normal, and my home for seventeen years. Goodbye, Oregon.

Hello, Los Angeles.