Back from New Zealand and Filling the Well

 

Auckland, New Zealand and the 40-storey high rise
I called home for six weeks. Waving from Floor 24! 

Hello, Everyone! I'm finally back in Albuquerque and the high desert after six amazing weeks staying ("luxuriating" might be the better term) in downtown Auckland, NZ.

Until today, I haven't blogged for weeks. Months. It wasn't intentional. Before I left home I had all kinds of sincere plans to keep posting and sharing my life down under, but the truth is that after only a few days in my lovely apartment I decided I was on vacation. 

Instead of blogging--or any other kind of writing for that matter--I spent my time visiting wonderful friends, going to the movies, shopping at every bookstore I could find (I ended up bringing home a total of ten paperbacks. "Heavy" doesn't begin to describe my carry-on load.), eating at incredible restaurants (NZ food is still the best in the world), exploring Auckland's very clean and very green neighborhoods, and yes, sketching every chance I could with a small watercolor set I bought at the art museum. 

The sketchbook I used was one I found in a great little stationery store called Typo which appealed to me not just because of the name, but for what they carried, too. I managed to fill the entire book with my impressions including a day trip to Bethell's Beach (my husband's favorite childhood hang-out) where some Buddhist monks were also admiring the scenery.

Just a few miles outside of downtown . . .

I couldn't eat of enough of these.

Rain or shine, I never tired of the view.

 

A long time ago--decades ago--Auckland was home. New Zealand is where I finished high school, attended the university, got my first job, and most especially, it's where I met my husband. It's also where I became deeply influenced by the country's art--especially ceramics--as well as the literature, music, film making, and overall sense of "do-it-yourself." When I stop to think about it, I really have to say that without New Zealand there's no "me," nor is there any of my writing starting with my YA novel Better Than Perfect set in suburban Auckland. Without New Zealand, I don't think I would ever have ventured into art, beading, and pottery. New Zealand set the stage for the rest of my life, even being the reason I ended up in Albuquerque thanks to my husband's own unique business brand originating in, where else, but New Zealand.

But regardless of the past and all it means to me, returning wasn't easy. I had been gone for a long time, and Auckland has changed so much it took me several confused weeks to even know where I was. One of the strangest things was I had completely forgotten that Auckland is built on a series of hills and that walking anywhere can often feel like mountain-climbing. More than once, puffing my way home with an armful of books and groceries, I couldn't help but marvel at how strong I must have been in the "old days." Not once as a student had I ever thought it was difficult, or unusual, to run up and down numerous ravines to get to a lecture or to meet with friends for lunch in the park.

Besides feeling that I was on some kind of endurance test just to buy a sandwich, I couldn't help but also feel a genuine sadness at how much of the past had disappeared. Beloved shops and buildings had not only been demolished, but the buildings and businesses replacing them were light years away from my memories. Where there had once been shops selling gumboots and sheepskins I now found Prada and Tiffany's, Dior and Ferrari. Very fancy, very international, but oh, how I longed for the innocence and simplicity of the past when we only had one television channel and talked all night over a jug of beer rather than cocktails. I hope I didn't become too boring with my constant questioning: "Where is . . .?" "When did they go out of business?" "Where can I get a lamington and an asparagus roll? You know, afternoon tea?" 

Oh, well. Enjoy the new and go with the flow. And I finally, after a lot of searching, did find a lamington during a visit to the sugar factory. Yum!

A difficult choice between raspberry or chocolate. 
Both with the obligatory cream and coconut.

To prove I did more than look for cake, here are some other highlights:

Loved taking the ferries to cross the harbor.

As well as the places the boats landed,
e.g., Waiheke Island for lunch.

Coming back to town. Queen Street view
from the Ferry Terminal (pictured below).

My daily route on the way to buy groceries,
books, and art supplies.

One of the many views from my living room: I never stepped
onto the balcony, not once!

Although I did sit close enough to the window to
sketch my cardigan drying in the sunlight.

Auckland University's "wedding cake" where
I spent four years studying Spanish Lit. and politics.
It's also where I was led to eventually meet my
literary mentor, the late author, Hugh Cook.

Auckland War Memorial Museum, always my "go to"
on a rainy day, both in the past and this visit too.

Because who can resist a Giant Moa?

Or a gaggle of kiwis? (Don't ask why they have
a ferret friend. I have no idea.)

The Maori displays at the museum were unfortunately closed
for renovation, but these carvings inside the Auckland Library were a
good compensation for what I missed.

As was this contemporary Maori sculpture
at the Auckland Art Gallery (below), two blocks from my apartment.

Rangitoto, Auckland's most scenic volcano.
Photo taken at Takapuna Beach only hours before
a cyclone hit.

Last view of the Sky Tower.
I'll be back!

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I had truly planned to continue blogging when I set out on my travels. I didn't mean to stop, or for so long, but I'm glad I did. Because, more than anything else, I needed a break--from everything. I needed a genuine vacation; a chance to rest, watch the sunrise, read, go slow and in particular: fill the well. New Zealand, even this modern, unfamiliar version, gave me that in bucket loads. I feel re-inspired to paint, design more jewelry, and to keep writing. More than anything, I feel inspired to meet the future, not just dwell on the past.

Tip of the Day: One of the things I love best about travel sketching is how easy, and quick, it is to capture mood and atmosphere for future writing. Whether it's laying down an abstract watercolor wash in neutral grays, or going for a more detailed study of the greens and blues of sea, sky, and land, there's something about the physical act of painting and/or drawing, especially with some accompanying notes to the page, that a photograph can never duplicate. On this particular trip, I deliberately left my usual sketch kit back in Albuquerque so that I could check out, and purchase, foreign supplies. It was a good decision and one I recommend to anyone else wanting to experiment with some sketching of their own. Best of all, now that I know where the art supply stores are, I'll know exactly where to go on my next visit!

The Grief Scarf

One night during the early weeks following my husband's death, I listened to a radio interview with Michelle Obama promoting her most recent book. Part of the conversation delved into how she had used knitting as a way to fend off depression and anxiety during Covid. Up to that point in the discussion, I had only been half-listening, not really paying attention, but at the word "knitting" I perked up, curious to learn how something as basic as yarn could turn your mood around. I was also intrigued that a First Lady could share such common feelings as anxiety and depression.

Until I discovered--and became more interested in--beading and art, I loved to knit. Over the years I made both my husband and myself countless pullovers, cardigans, vests, and of course, scarves. My main times to pick up yarn and needles were Sunday mornings when we watched motor racing on TV: Formula One, Indy cars, Moto GP, super bikes. Honestly, my husband would have watched lawn mower racing if it had been televised and the mowers went fast enough. Sitting beside him cheering on his favorite drivers I grew to love the sport too, but found I needed something like knitting to feel a little more productive during those endless lap-after-lap battles. After a while, though, we eventually had enough knitted clothing to last several lifetimes and I began to simply enjoy the races without the need for extra activity.

But after the interview with Mrs. Obama, I thought, well, maybe knitting would be fun. I had the needles, and a trip to the craft store was easy enough. The next morning I got in the car and drove to the nearest strip mall, quickly finding a soft, lilac/lavender chenille I thought would be perfect for a winter scarf.

When I got home is where things became more challenging. Of the dozens of needles I had packed away, the only size I didn't have was the one the yarn called for, Number 9. Too bad, I thought, 8.5 will have to do.

I didn't have a pattern. No problem, just cast on some stitches, right? I knew that if I knitted a standard stocking stitch it would result in a curled scarf that could double as a pool noodle, and garter stitch seemed too easy. Moss stitch would be the one for me. Which would also require that I concentrate, be aware of what I was doing at all times, and be willing to unpick any wrong stitches; none of which I was very good at right then and there.

Never mind, I told myself after the first several mismatched rows. Just carry on no matter what happens, exactly how I was living my life at that point. I was becoming familiar with making mistakes and taking countless missteps. Much of the time all I could do was laugh through my tears as I imagined my husband's mock-horror at my inexpert attempts to get by.

But "get by," I did. Last week I finished the final row of the scarf, and people, it is the worst thing I have ever made in my entire life. And you know what? I don't care. Every dropped stitch, gaping hole, wrong pattern twist is a witness to how I'm surviving, and I'm proud of myself. I'm trying. I'm doing my best. I've knitted a scarf that when it's scrunched around my neck not a soul will know what's "wrong with it."

 

There are so many lessons woven into this strange little piece of handiwork, first and foremost being that even in the depths of despair, when I was certain I couldn't walk across the room or turn on a light to see what I was doing, taking some kind of action, any action, took me to the next step. After that, I took another, and another. I kept going.

I learned that creativity doesn't have to be grand. I might not have the energy or focus to work on my new novel, paint a series of watercolor forests, or submit my last manuscript to sixty different agents, but I can still do something. Knitting is soothing, meditative, a rhythm of knit one, purl one I find calming regardless of the order I follow. Working with my hands helps me to watch movies and news programs more easily. (For some reason I previously couldn't sit through more than ten minutes of any program without feeling restless and scared. I'm glad to say that's well behind me now.) 

More than anything else, the Grief Scarf, as I call it, taught me that mistakes are unavoidable. They happen. I have the choice to fix my stitches if I think they are important enough (I don't), or I can start over and use my new-found strength and knowledge to try a fresh outcome. Which is precisely the path I've chosen, starting all over again with a new project I've named the Happy Scarf:

This time I've got the right size needles and I'm going with easy and fail-proof garter stitch. I chose a bright yellow inspired by the Japanese practice of kintsugi or kintsukuroi: mending broken items, mainly pottery, with gold. In Japan, when an object such as a valued tea cup breaks, molten gold is poured between the cracks, making that object more beautiful because it has a history, including flaws and accidents. It represents, as I read in one online article, "a life well-lived." A worthy goal if I've ever heard one.

Thank you as always for visiting. Keep stitching!

Stay Motivated with Art Prompts

© creativecommonsstockphotos

Happy February! It's nearly Valentine's Day--time to re-commit to those works-in-progress, art journals, sketchbooks, and unfinished "fill in the blank" projects. Last February I wrote a post about Falling in Love with Your Personal Project, but what about when the honeymoon's over? How do you keep the flame alive? 

For day-to-day inspiration I'm a great believer in prompts, especially magazine cut-out photos whether they're used for freewriting or as references for painting and drawing. But there's one big problem with magazine pics when it comes to art: the same images I use for writing are often too bizarre and/or detailed for sketching. I also sometimes resist drawing them because as fun as it is to write about a girl sitting on a throne wearing a giant moose head for a hat, I don't know how inspired I am to turn that idea into a finished painting. On top of that, there's always the big question of copyright law; reproducing photo images, no matter how loose the interpretation, can be tricky..  

This year I want to expand my art prompts and "inspiration files" into something more personal and less as just things to copy. Some of the ways I thought I could do this would be to: 

• Yes, continue clipping magazines--but with a difference: when I've got my images, I'll keep cutting and then collage them into strong images of my own design. Photographs that I would consider too dull for writing about are perfect for this, e.g., a pear from one picture, placed beside a teapot from another, with a cat from a random ad sitting close by. One advantage of this plan is I can really create the tonal values I want, combining serious darks with some brilliant lights, and all from a variety of sources.
• Purchase more used books for altering. Moving downtown has put me within walking distance to several great second-hand bookstores, including the Friends of the Library. At these shops I can buy a relatively inexpensive collection of out-of-print, oversize books to turn into altered sketchbooks. I can either draw directly onto the pages, or I can gesso, paint, and collage the book into something brand new. One advantage to this idea is I can try working more directly from my imagination rather than relying on pre-made images.
• Choose a theme and work on it for a month or longer in a variety of mediums, e.g., zoo animals. I can try drawing them in charcoal, acrylic, pastel, graphite, colored pencil, metallic marker, pen and ink . . . mud! Besides getting to explore more styles and techniques, I'll have a focused purpose and reason to draw every day. No more, "what do I draw now?"
• Illustrate a novel, or better still, one of my WIPs. This isn't a new idea for me, and I'm sure I've mentioned it before in previous posts, but it's always a good stand-by, particularly when choosing a theme like I mention above.
• Take my own photos and arrange them into a storyboard. Now we're talking! How about starting with say, three--beginning, middle, and end--but then consider expanding the "story" with as many as 28 (similar to the number of pages in a children's picture book).
• Cut out random shapes and "good parts" from failed paintings and drawings. Arrange them into a collage, and then fill out the empty spaces with new and improved drawings. No such thing as a "mistake," right?

So that should keep me busy for awhile. How about you? Do you have any favorite art prompts or methods you use to keep yourself inspired? Be sure to drop a line under "Comments" and let me know. Thanks for visiting!

Tip of the Day: Give your creativity a Valentine. Journal all the ways you love your work and how you can go deeper into that relationship  Knowing in advance why you want to stay with a creative project can often keep you motivated to complete it.

Holiday Greetings 2018, A Year in Review

'Tis the season for all good things: delicious treats, wonderful visits with friends and family, cozy sweaters, sparkling lights and sparkling wines . . . the list of holiday pleasures could go on and on. It's also a good time of year for reflection: how did the past year go" What worked, what didn't? Did we reach our goals?  

For me it was an interesting year, with new goals and new challenges appearing as unexpectedly as reindeer down the chimney. On the whole, though, I'd say everything turned out better than I could have ever imagined:

• I got an agent! Yes, I did. I'm happy and excited to announce that I have signed with Laura Strachan of the Strachan Literary Agency to represent my novel, The Abyssal Plain.
• Which led to a revised manuscript. It was hard work, but in the end I couldn't have been more grateful to Ms. Strachan for her discerning and very perceptive evaluation of The Abyssal Plain. For several weeks she worked tirelessly to show me where I needed to make the book stronger and more cohesive. She also encouraged me to come up with a much better book description than anything I'd ever written before.
• I took an illustration class. To celebrate my progress with The Abyssal Plain, I treated myself to a week-long illustration class with author/artist Neecy Twinem. For my class project I chose to work on my picture book, The White Pony, and I've made a ton of progress toward developing my ideas (and skills) further.
•  Sold my house. And quickly too! Five weeks on the market and we were done.
• Bought and renovated a mid-century downtown condo. I never knew I was capable of sanding so much paint off the walls without a single complaint, LOL! But I was dedicated to making our new little home the perfect base for this current stage of my life which is going to center far more around creativity rather than housework. Two and half months after moving in, the plan is working great.
• Finished my Taiwan art journal. This might not sound as dramatic as some of my other year's events, but this journal has been a labor of love for over a year, and I'm glad to close the covers at last. More the equivalent of a multi-page "mood board" than a typical journal, I can now use the pages as an excellent resource for subject matter, color palettes, and writing prompts.
• Read some amazing books. My favorite amongst these was Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch. I read it at nights after days spent renovating my condo, and I couldn't have made a better choice. The story-line took me far away from the world of paint chips and drywall. Highly recommended.
• NaNoWriMo. I didn't win, but at least I showed up! And Had a Wonderful Time!
• New Mexico SCBWI Enchantment Show. I'd never tackled anything remotely like this before, but somehow between book revision and condo renovation I organized a small art show for my local chapter of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. Eight illustrators and eight writers were paired together to create a collaborative piece of art and writing based on the theme of "Lost and Found." When all sixteen pieces of work were complete, everything was then put on display at the Erna Fergusson Library here in Albuquerque for the month of September. Part of the show included a reception where the authors read their stories aloud and the illustrations were digitally displayed on a wall-size screen. The whole event was just delightful, and I'm looking forward to working with the show again next year.
• Ink drawing (almost) every day in my Moleskine. Besides reading whenever I had some downtime, one of the things I tried to do every day was create at least one ink drawing in my Moleskine sketchbook. I learned a lot working with ink (no erasers allowed!) for a solid year, especially how to embrace and cultivate "happy accidents."
• Bought a sewing machine. When I couldn't find the bedroom curtains i wanted, I had to end up making them. Which was great: I bought a sewing machine, something I haven't owned in nearly ten years when I gave my old one away to a friend's mother. Back then I thought I was finished with stitching, bobbins, and seam rippers for good, but my new machine, a very simple and basic Singer, has me re-thinking all that. I may even start sewing a whole new summer wardrobe next spring. Project Runway, anyone?
• Discovered I want to make metal clay beads and pendants. This was a rather late discovery, only occurring about a week ago. But I was curious as to why my beading had slowed down to almost nothing during the second half of the year. That's when I realized my whole problem revolved around not having the beads and focal pieces I wanted. Like my curtains, I would have to make my own. After all, I have a kiln, I love to work with clay, and I love to design things to make with clay. There's a studio just a few blocks away from where I now live that will be offering a class on the entire process in April. How lucky is that? Roll on 2019!

Tip of the Day: The end of the year is the perfect time to start imagining and writing down goals and plans for 2019. What will you do to create the year you want? I'd love to hear what you come up with. Thanks for visiting--see you next year!