materials, materials, oh how i love thee!

Everywhere I go, the hardware store, pharmacy, post office, on a hike, supermarket, you name it, I lose track of time. I end up wondering what I could create with whatever object my eyes have noticed. Ace Hardware is amazing! Chains, screws, electrical wire in tons of colors! Needless to say, it sometimes takes me close to an hour to run a 15 minute errand. Going to SCRAP, A School and Community Reuse Action Project in Portland, Oregon, is a trip never under 45 minutes in length. Leather, wood, yarn, donated clothing tags, styro-foam, TONS of fabric, old magazines - this place is a 7 days-a-week yard sale! (www.scrapaction.org)

I recently returned to Portland from the East Coast where I spent 7 days visiting with family and friends. I cannot tell you how much I loved and needed their hugs, kisses and talks. On the last day of my visit, I packed up the belonging I brought with me, and a few extra items, clothing, an old painting, and a purse. As I shoved these items into my backpack, I realized the purse I was bringing home was actually quite gross and that maybe I could use its components (buckles, straps, fasteners) to make something really cool. So, I grabbed some scissors and began cutting. In walks my brother, also frantically packing for his trip back to Switzerland, and gasps,"What are you doing?" I replied, "What. I can use these pieces to make jewelry!" He gave me that look. He knows me very well. What probably flashed through his mind was the time I "destroyed" his Bronx Zoo wallet only to put it back together with collaged imagery covered with clear packing tape (so cool), or maybe the time I cut his olive green cargo pants to make a cute mini skirt. He knows me very well.I love materials. While on the East Coast, I also made a trip to the Fashion District in New York City. My mother and I spent about an hour drooling over brilliant stones of varying color, shape and size. We went to Phoenix Beads on 37th between 5th and 6th Ave. I am eager to start working on some mixed media necklaces, earrings and bracelets. I envision delicate necklaces with chain, a few stones, and canvas cutout leaves or feathers. Whimsical and feminine. Very sexy. Also, some macrame circles with dangling stones and canvas.

This is what I do. I turn these little treasures into pieces that make sense to me. I'm not sure how I reach a finished piece. I do research what other artists are creating. And nature, fashion and the city influence me, as well. Often times I'll start with one idea and end with something entirely different. I don't always know what a piece needs. A button, a buckle, a bead. Some canvas, some leather, some fabric. A braid, a knot, a chain, a crystal! Variety is crucial. It is so important to play with materials. Get a sense of what you are working with and break down those fearful thoughts - "I'm gonna ruin it", "I' m gonna run out of material", "I don't know what I am doing" - these thoughts freeze you as an artist. You'll never get anywhere with these thoughts hanging around.
And get messy. My studio is usually covered with scraps of string, canvas, fabric, wire, etc. But this is what it's all about. Organized chaos. And sometimes just chaos!

Calvary Cemetery, Queens, NY

I arrived at JFK airport in New York City this morning at 8:05am and hired a cab to take me to my sister's place in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I asked the cab driver how much this ride would cost. He replied its on the meter since we are going to Brooklyn and not New York City which is a flat rate of $45. Yikes! I gulped and buckled my seatbelt. I kept thinking its OK to spend some money, I'm seeing my family after 11 months of being independent in Portland, Oregon. So, instead of dwelling on the upcoming dent to be made in my wallet, I began talking with the cab driver. We started with the usual weather chat, followed by some traffic updates and the New York City cost of living coupled with the poor job market, then silence, a bridge, more silence, and then I saw it. First the light caught my eye. Then the shades of white and gray. Then the rectancilinear shapes all fairly similar in size, but shifting in height due to the rolling hillside they stood upon. These rectangles echoes the much larger ones in the distance. We were driving past the largest cemetery in New York, The Calvary Cemetery of Queens. Now, this is a cemetery I have seen before. But having been away from the enormous and over populated city that is New York, my memory was a bit foggy. I should mention that upon leaving the airport, I was drawn to the low income housing units sprawled out in every direction. So many people living so closely in such mediocrity. This is not what life is about.

I asked the cabdriver for the name of this expansive city of the dead. I began to feel confused about it. Why do we bury our dead in a plot of land to just sit and take up space? I then asked him from where he came. India. I asked him if there are such places in India where the dead are buried. He said in Hinduism the dead are cremated. He said that we all have a light and that when we die that light leaves us, and then we are just a dead body. He said that burying a dead body in the ground is the same as cremated it and returning the ashes to the earth. Some people have their deceased loved ones cremated and then keep them in an urn in their home. He said that is the same thing as a cemetery.

I continued to think about all this as we drove through the congestion and honking. Is burying a loved one in a cemetery a means of holding on? Does it make some people feel more comfortable and less alone? Is it a form of denial? Does burying someone or cremated them and keeping the ashes interrupt the natural cycle of life?

As we neared my sister's apartment, one more conversation took place. We spoke of the hustle and bustle around us. The cab driver said that a person's pressure goes up living in the city. He said you miss one train and you are 30 minutes late to work. People are stressed. I said that's why I live in Oregon. He said that you have to have lots of patience to live in New York City and that everyone is in rush. I sat there looking out the window, listening to his words, thinking of how calm he seemed. He sits there in his cab all day long watching New York City as if it was a movie. Scene after scene, new characters, new stories, new conversations. I wonder how many conversations he thinks about after a ride is up. Is he writing about me right now?