Inspiration Digest: dinner

“If you could have dinner with any 7 people, dead or a live, who would you pick?” My answer is a no-brainer. Maybe it’s boring, or cliché, or an easy way out, but there’s no one I’d rather break bread with than my family.

We’ll all be sitting around the table, and my dad will start telling that story about that first time he went back to Italy, after moving to the U.S. when he was 8 months old. He was 18, hair down to the middle of his back. His cousin took him to some relative’s house that first night, and they all piled around a table and had pasta with oil and garlic, and so much red pepper flake that the oil was red. “Wow,” he’ll exclaim, his face rounding into the word, “that was good!”

Pretty soon, we’ll all be laughing, and carrying on, and passing the bread or the salad, and my little nephew Luke will be making music on the table with his spoon.

There’s something about putting these two simple ingredients together: people that you love and food that has been made with some thought and care. This is a nearly infallible recipe for a good evening and a good life. It doesn’t need to be complicated: a box of pasta, a can of whole peeled tomatoes, an onion, a couple cloves of garlic, some garbanzo beans. All you need is 20 minutes, a knife, a pot, and a smile, and you’ve got a meal that you can share and laugh over.

Now that I live three states away from my family, I have a new dinner partner. One of the first things that my fiancé and I ever shared was food—on our first date, we went to the farmer’s market and made fresh pasta. I would like to say that it was over the eggs and the flour that we fell in love, but that would be straight out of the movies. I think it would be more truthful to say that it was over the Puttanesca and the cabbage salad, the burgers and the zucchini wraps, the minestrone soup and the felafel—the practice of cooking and eating together every night over the years, in kitchens from Croatia to California.

After almost six years, having dinner together is still one of my favorite parts of the day, and I think that will be true even in 60 years. It is the small pleasure of coming together and just being ourselves and eating, that holds a place in my heart that nothing else will ever fill.

It is such a simple thing that anyone can do, and it’s guaranteed to change your life. Break out the dinner plates and the olive oil. It will make you feel loved and taken care of, sane and alive. All you need to do is take the time, appreciate it, and not let it get crowded out—because in the end nothing else is more important. Nothing else is the reason we are here and alive, but to enjoy life, love and be loved. Let’s eat.

Capturing Wind

I’ve always loved wind—it’s so transporting and sensual. It really fills almost all of your senses—there’s a sound, feeling, visual, and even smell. I would love to make art that somehow captured wind—I think the only way to really do it is with art that addresses at least hearing and touch—like some more contemporary pieces I’ve seen that really create an environment. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to walk into a room that transports you to a breezy summer evening? I imagine it would be dark, and there would be a warm breeze and the smell of some fragrant flower or cut grass. The air would feel a little damp, with the heat of day just lingering.

But maybe these things are best left to reality—why recreate this through art? Perhaps it would push the viewer (or experiencer) to understand what elements are at play, or I suppose just to let themselves be transported and appreciate the feeling. This could get into a much bigger philosophical discussion about the point of any art. I won’t go there, but I was just out trying to photograph the wind, with little success (especially with my silly digital point and shoot that won’t let me adjust shutter speed).

I’m not sure a photograph, or any two-dimensional art could convey the wind, or maybe the whole thing is in the viewer’s mind—if you create a vivid and truthful image or series of words that makes them conjure the moment, then you would have succeeded.

Give Me a Hand

Here’s another body-related idiomatic expression drawing for you today:

“Give Me a Hand,” 4 x 6 inches, pen and ink, available in my shop

This is going to be a fun series because the drawings are just so silly and ridiculous. As you can see, I’m having more fun with borders here—I think I’m in love with borders—they really feel like they finish off the pieces.

In other news:

I will be selling at the new McClatchy Urban Farm Stand in Sacramento from 10-2 this Saturday, so come on out for some fresh vegetables and art, if you’re in the area.

Also, an advisory: Do NOT wear flip flops into your garden this season because a bee might just fly under your foot on the flip, and sting the bottom of your foot on the flop. Then, the next day, you might develop a foot too swollen to fit into anything but Crocs and be forced to hobble around the house like an invalid (like me), blaming your ailment on an animal the size of your pinky nail. Hmmp. I might have to revise my opinion of bees.

Private Eye

4.5 x 5.5 inches, pen and ink, available in my shop

I was riding my bike the other day, and I saw a poster for a play called “Private Eyes,” and this drawing popped into my head. It was just pure fun.

A while after I drew it, I got to thinking that the expression is probably actually “private I” as in Investigator, and my mess up made it seem even funnier. But a consultation with my dictionary taught me that the expression is in fact as I wrote it. Well, either way, it gives me a good laugh.

I love idiomatic expressions, and since I drew this one, I’ve thought of a whole bunch relating to the human body—do I hear another series coming together? Anyone got a good one?

A couple others I thought of: “She’s all elbows and knees” and “he has a nose for business”

I first learned technically about these expressions when I was studying Italian, and my teacher often talked about how knowing idiomatic expressions or idioms (an expression whose meanings cannot be inferred from the meanings of the words that make it up) is what makes the difference between a native-level speaker and everyone else. I think it’s very true. Also, I think these expressions have a lot of poetry in them, and information about history and culture.

Pomegranate

So, it’s official, an alphabet series is developing. Right now, I’m going to call it a “Natural Patterns Alphabet.” That could change, but I want to tag it so people can find all the pieces together on this blog. This third piece took a decidedly fruity turn, but the inside of a pomegranate is just too lovely to pass up. I have a feeling that there will be several sub-series within the alphabet (I already see potential for natural homes and fruit), but the common thread will be something loosely defined as a “natural pattern.”

“Pomegranate,” 5 x 5 inches, pen and ink, prints available in my shop

I don’t think I will be putting the originals up for sale right now, until I decide if I will use some of them for a show, but please do let me know if you’re interested in a piece.

I learned many new things about the word “pomegranate” while doing this drawing, so now, I will bore you with some etymological information—I am such a word nerd, but honestly words provide me with endless entertainment! The English word pomegranate comes from the Old French words meaning “seeded apple,” in fact, the Italian and German words also translate to the same thing: “melograno” and “granatapfel” respectively. The most interesting version of the word to me was the French “grenade” because I found out that the weapon called “grenade” was essentially named after the fruit. Enjoy!

And the winner is . . .

The news is out: lucky commenter #7 Victoria is the winner of my Free Print Giveway in honor of my one year Etsy anniversary!

I just wanted to thank all of you for your gracious comments and enthusiasm! It’s all of you that are making Blue Bicicletta what it’s becoming, and inspiring me to keep making art! Keep checking in over here, you never know when there might be another giveaway!

I will be sending this to the lovely Victoria in Sweden:

Weekly Inspiration Digest: open space

I spent a lot of time by myself in middle school and high school—my parents worked a lot, often at night, and my sister is four years older than me, so she was often out, car keys in hand, spending time with her then boyfriend/now husband. I was always also somewhat shy and quiet, so I never had a ton of friends.

I felt like I was alone by default—I hadn’t chosen it, and so I felt lonely. Even though I liked to write, draw, and cook, the time seemed unending. While I was happy to have a break from school, the long, empty days of summer magnified this problem, until I was old enough to get a job.

In college, I found some people to whom I stuck like glue, so the problem continued similarly—I relied on other people to make me feel happy. Then as fate would have it, I found a great guy, but this great guy had an obsession that took him away from me for longer periods of time—rock climbing.

Away to the mountains he would go for long weekends and sometimes even whole weeks. Through that honeymoon phase of dating, I grinned and bore it, but then it became an upheaval between us—something we “dealt with” through which neither of us felt very supported.

We graduated from college, moved together to different cities, and changed jobs, but the conflict always followed us. Everything would be wonderful as we cooked together, went hiking, and enjoyed the everyday bits of life—that is, until Mike announced that he would like to go off on some mountain jaunt the following weekend. I would fly into panic mode, worried about what I would do with all of that time alone.

And then a funny thing happened—that little seed of discontent grew into a bigger one, as I tried to figure out what was missing from my life that made my free time alone so unbearable. It didn’t seem unreasonable for Mike to want to go off for a weekend here and there—it did seem unreasonable that I got scared every time I had more than a few hours alone—something just wasn’t being fulfilled.

Through no grand epiphany, but just the slow seeping of discontent, this is the point at which art waltzed back into my life. Not that it had ever completely left, but it had become just a small glimmer in the back of my mind, with little outlet. As I slowly realized that making art was an essential part of me, and I started to let that part of myself loose, other parts of my life began to change too.

Through art, I found a place to go in that free time, and I started craving more and more of it. I would spend evening and weekend hours drawing and painting (and then later, blogging and Etsying), and all of a sudden, Mike leaving for a weekend didn’t seem so difficult. I began to realize that the problem was never him going away—the problem was how I viewed free time with myself—like I was being deserted. It made me feel alone, bored, and frustrated all at once, and feeling those feelings made me worry that I would never really enjoy my life.

I started lusting after wide open spaces of free time—time to run my errands, do art, and do nothing. Open space became like that time it takes a seed to germinate—it’s quiet and private, hidden from view, but absolutely necessary. It’s like needing room to breathe, or room for a plant to grow into—it feels abundant and rich, like a vast room full of my favorite things.

Oh, to wake up on a Saturday with absolutely no obligations to anyone or anything—I covet it, fight for it, protect it, and much to my gaping surprise, sometimes I even look forward to Mike’s weekend trips away. I can while away hours with my weekend standards—the farmer’s market, the public library, gardening, drawing, blogging, walking my dog, and scheming up a feast for dinner, as well as watching any silly movie I please.

While I used to wish I was someone else—a socialite with a million friends moving in and out all the time, I’m beginning to understand that us introverts need an abundant inner life with plenty of time to feed it. Although I really value relationships where I can talk and laugh with someone, I can go whole days without talking to anyone but my dog, and my life feels rich.

It is especially amazing to me how things turn during life—to begin to crave something I hated as a kid, viewed as some sort of punishment, like broccoli or baths, is one of the most surprising things about living, and I’m sure things will turn again, as I ride this wave that is life.

now i know my abcs, a treasury

Hello there! I just wanted to show you guys my first Etsy treasury. Treasuries are little mini gallery collections (12 items each) that any Etsian is allowed to create—seller or buyer. If you’ve ever looked at the front page of Etsy, you will have seen a treasury.

Somewhat recently, I’ve been hearing more and more about treasuries, and even been featured in a few, so I thought I might like to make one. It’s a little easier said than done though because there are loads of people who want to make treasuries, but there’s a limit to the number that exist at any given time. Basically, you have to wait until enough treasuries expire (the life-span is about 2 days) and then pounce.

Pounce I did last night, and here is my first treasury not surprisingly with an alphabet theme. It’s called “now i know my abcs,” click on the link to go to the actual treasury (if you’re reading this after this weekend, my treasury will have expired).

Aside from having to wait for a treasury to open up, it was pretty fun to curate a treasury—I just searched the word “alphabet” on Etsy and found so many great artists! I encourage all of you to go forth and curate! If you’re extra special, your treasury could even make it to the front page!

Hum a Hymn

Yesterday, I was looking through my sketchbook for some words I wrote down last week, and instead of what I was actually looking for, I found these words:

“Hum a Hymn,” 5 x 5 inches, pen and ink, available in my shop

I do love stumbling upon some old idea I had forgotten about, and then looking at it with a fresh perspective. This was a fun little drawing to do—I seem to be in love with the 5 x 5 inch size these days, and this “ribbon type” as I’m calling it is really forgiving and fun to draw.

Happy weekend to you!

Beehive

Another drawing for my new series:

“Beehive,” 5 x 5 inches, pen and ink, prints available in my shop

I’m not completely sure where I’m going with this series, but I think this one would look quite nice along with the first one, “Nido.”

Is it an alphabet series? Is it a series about natural homes? We’ll all just have to wait and see—I will probably be the most surprised! The different languages will be an interesting challenge to deal with. For now, I’m just picking words that I like—they could be Italian, like “nido,” or English like “beehive.”

In doing this drawing, I realized that my associations with bees are very interesting—in my mind, there seems to be this lore around them—they seem magical and mysterious. Even though I have been stung by bees pretty badly, they don’t scare me, like for instance snakes do (and yet snakes have never done me any harm). What a strange dynamic. I think certain animals get a really bad rap because of stereotypes inherent in our culture. For instance, why do we associate bears with some soft cuddly animal when in fact it’s pretty scary to see a real one? Maybe it’s because of the teddy bear? Maybe we need more fluffy snake toys to turn our feelings around about snakes?

Anyway, I suppose your impression of something has to do with all of your past experiences—if you are allergic to bees, you would probably have a much different reaction to them than someone who keeps bees.

One more note—I learned, through looking at beehive pictures, that this particular structure is known as a bee skep and is now mainly made for ornamental purposes because of the development of easier to use structures. Historically, bee skeps were often made with straw or branches (in a video I saw, it looked a lot like basket weaving). How this structure became the main symbol of beehives is a mystery. I really wonder why—anyone have a guess?