What Happens Next

Road Trip

Did I mention this little four-day extravaganza of girl bonding and creative bliss??

Because, wow, zero minus forty-eight hours and SO EXCITED!!! 

Just wish I was also packed and prepared in possession of any form of winter clothing, since it all seems to be sitting on moving vans until November 28th. Love it when a plan comes together...

However, our offerings for the Vendor Faire are resting comfortably in their boxes, awaiting the nine hour drive. Wait...what?!? That's right, road trip straight in to Winter with a seriously gestating Daughter.

Pray for me.

Thank you.

Homecoming

One last photo, and it's time to say goodbye to California and it's spectacular October weather. 

My project has been completed, hung, and photographed. Huge sigh of relief. 

Real life beckons me back to Texas, and a dozen commitments loom before Thanksgiving. 

In other news... the winds of change have begun to blow, and I have something exciting to share very soon. 

Stay tuned... you'll want to know What Happens Next!

So Many Projects... Running Out of Time

And so it came to pass that I was asked to stay two weeks longer in California. Twist my arm... please. (Okay, ouch.)

I have a very full plate right now. Many endeavors hanging in the balance, and I miss Daughter and The Boy.

But a beautiful project is emerging here in Paradiso. Top secret for the moment, lest the father get a peek.

Dozens of photos to share, but I can barely keep my eyes open after a full day. Must be the high elevation. Yeah, that must be it...

The Girl

The Girl.

27 Weeks.

  

I'm falling in love again.

Lofty Ambitions

There is one floor of the church that is finished and functioning.

It looks very much like a loft, and has been called "lofty" more than once. But contrary to a tradional loft, It is actually on the bottom floor, at about 20 percent "below grade", with windows all around. Does that make it a basement?

I'm not sure...    

It has a definite urban vibe. It was built out as a completely separate unit, and is a pretty vast space at just over 5,000 square feet, so we kept it simple. Clean lines, minimal fuss. 

Here it is on the day of our first walk-through. This floor just exuded charm. How could we resist?

The dropped panel ceilings with florescent lighting was particularly compelling. As was the lovely paneling.

Finally, some clean lines and minimal fuss. But, I need to know who on earth picks out that precise color of green paint. I see it everywhere in buildings of a "certain age", and I feel queasy every time. However, I love the pinky-peach folding chair, sitting there all alone...

I couldn't ever figure out the floor plan in this space. I was forever getting turned around. I suppose in over ninety years of the building's history, there were plenty of opportunities to rearrange and put up random walls. Places to hide the clutter. 

Pay particularly close attention to the linoleum floor tiles. They will be important later. 

This area was used for the actual church services, at the end. The congregation had dwindled down to a mere handful, and using the sanctuary for services seemed inappropriate. So they moved downstairs to a more intimate setting.

I will note at this point that there is another church of this denomination less than two miles from here. So, these parishioners were not left without a church home, they merely transitioned to the new one. 

Here is the original kitchen, probably added in the sixties, where I imagine many a church supper was prepared. It cracked me up that the wastebasket was still here, with a clean bag in it. And the dishcloth casually drying on the sink, like someone would be right back to finish cleaning up.

In actuality, the building had been vacant for many years before they unloaded it on us we bought it.

So here we are after a little over a year of demolition and reconfiguring. All the dropped ceilings were removed and recessed lights were added. Superfluous walls were taken down, which added to the "loft" feeling.

Minimal.

The new kitchen is still somewhat of a work in progress. The upper cabinets were a result of measure once, and then order. And then order again, seemingly without measuring at all.

It will ultimately get corrected, but for the time being, we moved on.

The backsplash and island top will also be getting a makeover at some point. 

Again, moving on.

But this... this is the piece-de-resistance. A favorite trick of Daughter's. Order two separate refrigerated units. One regular fridge, and one freezer. Put them side by side, and get the trim kit that finishes them off as one unit. Voila! Fifty-four cubic feet of space for a fraction of the price of SubZero™.

Genius. And I love the JennAir™ cooktop, too.

There is a small area right off the kitchen that was once used as the coal room for the heating system. We wanted to keep it intact, sooty bricks and all, so we had these wine storage units built to slide into the spaces that were left after removing the old bins.

The plumber will be cutting that pipe off at some point. So I hear.

And "someone" will make a new window. Details, details...

Remember those linoleum tiles? Well, here's what we found when we had them scraped up. First we found out that 90 year old tiles are extremely hard to scrape up. Second, we found that whatever they used for glue back in the day was formidable to say the least.

But the other thing we found was that a very cool pattern was left when the tiles were finally gone. Kind of like a crocodile print.

We had the floors sanded a couple of times to remove the residual glue, then three coats of concrete stain were applied in a warm tobacco color. Finally they were sanded again and sealed. And because there is so much floor exposed in this space, it is the first thing everyone asks about. 

And then they ask why no one lives here.

That's right, this space is not being used as a residential unit at the moment. It is being used by all of us as office and creative work space, and often by The Boy as a place to race office chairs on the polished floors. And sometimes we watch movies and eat dinner here just because there is so much room, and a calm and serenity about the whole place. Not to mention cool and dark, which has come in very handy in the Texas summer.

And during the day, the construction guys upstairs know they can find one of us down here. Then they drag us up two flights of stairs to ask yet another convoluted technical question that make my eyes absolutely glaze over. Okay, so that's just me. Daughter always has the answer. I often wonder exactly when she got so smart. And so construction savvy...

So that is why we can move on at the moment from finishing out the kitchen the way we really want to. 

We do have bedrooms, though. Three of them, and three baths. They remind me of a nice hotel room, except there's not much generic art. Or any, really... but that's because, hello, no one lives here.

My sister and I did stay here for a few days a couple of weeks ago, and we would like to report that the beds are super comfy and the coffee maker rocks!

Four and a half stars! We had to deduct points for the lack of room service...

For those of you worrying that we weren't accomplishing much on our behemoth project, rest assured. It is coming along, and it is beautiful.

This One's For The Girl(s)

Daughter and I said goodbye to our friend today.

Her husband was unbelievably warm and kind to each and every person at the memorial... the ones he knew, and the ones he was meeting for the first time. It was truly touching to witness him handling this deeply painful time with such grace. 

Knowing how much Aleida loved music, I wanted to offer something here to honor her publicly one last time. She was a supportive friend to many women of all ages, from countries all around the world. They have reached out to each other for strength and comfort during this past week. It has been nothing short of amazing. 

This song celebrates what I found to be the very essence of Aleida.
 

Aleida understood on a deep level what it means to overcome a painful past. She encouraged all of us to celebrate and commemorate our families and our accomplishments, to stand confidently in our own unique beauty, and to lift each other up with humor and a kind word. She loved without holding back. 

This one's for you, Aleida. You will continue to inspire all of us.

In the Arms of the Angels

Our friend Aleida Franklin was taken from us early this morning, as she drove to work in downtown Dallas. Someone ran a red light, and in that split second the brightness of the world was forever diminished.

Those of us who knew and loved her are beyond heartbroken. We are stunned and griefstricken. She leaves behind a husband that she loved with all her being, and two small children who knew for certain, every single day, that they were the center of her life.

The outpouring of emotion from the artistic community that Aleida was so much a part of is testimony to her ability to touch others in a really profound way. Her talent was immense, as was her heart. She was strong and kind, funny and charismatic. A friend to so many. A tireless cheerleader and advocate.

This is the photo and text that she posted on her blog last Friday. One week ago today. 

Haunting and beautiful.

Please keep Aleida's family in your prayers.

*We will miss you always, dear friend. You will live in our hearts forever.*

Hotel California

There are some places on earth that just beckon you back over and over. 

Places so beautiful, so welcoming and magical that you can't believe your good fortune at having been invited to share brief interludes within their realm.

One such place is the family home of one of Daughter's dearest friends.

From the moment you begin driving up the hill, you know there must be something incredible waiting at the top. 

The gates give a mere hint at what awaits within. And by hint, I mean you will stand there with your mouth wide open at the view. And then you notice that the gate is padlocked.

Not to worry, it turns out to be the wrong gate, the one they never use. 

 

And this is the reward that greets you as you step into what feels like another world. Lush and fragrant, you are at once transported to the Italian seaside villa of your wildest dreams.  

One of the lower courtyards in bloom. Late summer has been very kind on this side of the hill.

Around the corner, and the house begins to come into full view.

The family bought this property in the 1970's, when it was just a (smaller) house in significant disrepair, with several acres of wasted, barren hillside "dirt". In the thirty years since, they have lovingly restored the home, and added incomprehensible amounts of landscaping as well as literally tons of "hardscaping". I hesitate to use such a generic term for what they have accomplished. 

It takes your breath away.

A photo "op" at every turn.

Someone should have told me to buy stock in the company that produces plaster columns and statuary. And palm trees. 

And, well, planters. 

Another verdant garden, looking down to one of the guest houses that were added along the way.

Are you getting that Italian feeling yet? 

No???

Well, this ought to do the trick. 

On the balcony behind the statue is the "apartment" where Daughter, The Boy and I stayed for a good deal of the month of August. I fear that we stayed too long, and dancing boy up there is blowing that horn with all his might, trying to scare us up a shuttle back to the airport.

But when you have views like this to greet you each day, and Italian music playing through the sound system all over the grounds, how exactly do you tear yourself away? 

That is the dance floor that you see, being covered with a green shaggy carpet for a three year old's Princess Birthday Party.The "magic gazebo" will be put up later in the day. Many family weddings have taken place on and around that dance floor.

And now another generation comes here to celebrate.

Sometimes you are above the clouds, as the coastline begins to shed it's morning shroud.

Everywhere you turn, a view more stunning than the last.

A young family moved on to this property thirty years ago, and seven children were raised to be humble and gracious servants of all they had been blessed with. These are kind and generous people, welcoming and open-hearted to a fault. 

It's no accident that they are doctors. Doctors and nurses, physical therapists and medical estheticians. 

Nurturers.

So many paths to wander. So many steps to climb!

When I first began to visit here, I thought I would never figure it all out. 

I got turned around more than once.

Somehow, like a compass, I would always end up pointing north. Well, and a little west.

As night falls, the house is a beacon, guiding everyone back, leaving the rest of the party decorations to wait until morning. 

Late in the evening, I always feel compelled to step out onto a balcony, any balcony, just to take it all in once again. The coastal air is cool and breezy, and the twinkling lights are just astonishing.

The allure is complete. 

It has been hard for Daughter and I to leave our beloved California, even if it is only for a year or two. It has been only very recently that we have relocated to Texas full time. We try to get back as often as we can to see our friends and family, to shop in favorite stores and eat in favorite restaurants. To feel like we're home.

And sometimes, when we're very, very, very lucky, we get to experience our city from someplace so beautiful, so quintessentially California, that the homesickness is abated for a time. 

And for that we are so deeply grateful. 

Rooted in Love

Today is my youngest brother's birthday. It is fitting that it lands on Labor Day this year, since he is probably working at least part of the day... it's the middle of the trade show season in the apparel industry.

I would like to celebrate him today by sharing his life's work with you. I am so enormously proud of him and the way he is walking his walk.

Click on the logo above to go to his website. The video below is an overview of his company, and serves as a small window into who they are and the ways they are making a difference.

The girl painting throughout the video is my amazing niece, who is of course my brother's daughter. She is the head designer for Jedidiah, and together with her father, they have created a clothing brand that is at once both beautiful and profoundly meaningful. I absolutely love her work, and the way her art is so completely true to who she is and what she believes. And it never, ever fails to make me smile. Bonus.

Here is another peek into her world:

Happy Birthday, Kevin! (Hey, you must be in your thirties by now, if my calculations are correct. Ahem.)

And congratulations on Jedidiah. It's enormous success is a testament to all of your hard work, and the strength of your mission. My favorite clothing brand in the entire world... by far.

You and Me ... Rooted in Love.

**My brother also appears briefly in the first video. Can you tell who he is??**

He's a Travelin' Man

The Boy likes to travel. He's pretty much gotten it down to a science at this point. He moves through the airport with his tiny Buzz Lightyear wheelie suitcase like the seasoned veteran that he has become.

At the tender age of 32 months, he has been on 41 round trip flights. For those of you keeping score, that is 82 times through curbside check-in, through crowded security lines, delays, cancellations, and the myriad challenges that air travel offers. He has flown to New York, to Hawaii, Las Vegas (several times...yikes), Washington, D.C., Florida, and Arizona, in addition to his regular commute of Orange County, California-to-Dallas. If he has skipped your city/state, he apologizes. He'll get there.

And yet he embraces it. He can now get a security line "box" of his own if the stack is not too high. He will drop to the ground and remove his shoes, toss them in the "box" with his blanket and pillow and wait for the okay from security to walk through, boarding pass in hand. He has prompted more than one weary traveler to laugh right out loud. Sometimes that traveler is me. If I'm not too weary.

Once aboard, we have a routine. We always try to fly as close to 1 o'clock in the afternoon as possible, or as we like to call it in the industry, "naptime". A hearty lunch, a beverage, a video on the trusty iphone, and hopefully, this...

Bliss, I tell you.

The flight from Orange County to Dallas is (normally) less than three hours, so this plan is pretty much foolproof. Works almost every time. Well, that is if the flight attendant can manage to notice that a small child is sleeping, and not repeatedly ask me at a volume necessary to counteract the fact that I am wearing headphones, whether or not I need another beverage. Do all of them not read the universal sign language for "No, thank you"?? I'm sorry, but I thought the horizontal wave of a hand, accompanied by a side-to-side shaking of the head, should suffice as an answer. She must be new.

Maybe I'm just cranky because 1o'clock in the afternoon is not my usual naptime, and this is my view for 2-plus hours.

But the mixed nuts were good.

Okay, right about here the view starts improving. I am getting back to my natural habitat, and things are looking decidedly better.

Once we are on the ground in California, The Boy bids farewell and thank you to the entire flight crew, correctly identifies all of our luggage on the carousel, and tells the man outside that we need a cab. Is it okay that I still call him "Baby"?

On this trip, we are staying with a friend just south of Los Angeles. Perhaps this will give you an idea of why we love it at her house. It looks like she threw a padlock on the entrance to keep us out, but this is one of the gates they don't use. I know.

Just before you arrive at the gates, this is the view that greets you.

There's more. Much, much more. But let me get my bearings first, and bask in the salt air and sea breezes.

Cause I'm selfish like that...sorry.

"Baby-Suit" Optional Friday

Well, August is certainly off to a rousing start. Naked enthusiasm and joie de vivre abound.

The Boy would prefer to celebrate the dogs days of summer "au naturale".  At least this is his preference after a long morning at the shore, when the wet sand in his "baby suit" starts to outweigh his ability desire to cart it around any longer.

He'll find out soon enough that this cheeky  behavior is frowned upon in polite circles. And even in picturesque and lovely Laguna Beach, with the hordes of camera-toting tourists milling about this time of year. Oh, they smile, but a tsk-tsk is often mingled in. Then there is the issue of all the cameras. I mean, look what happened here...

                                     

But lets not tell him this spirit-crushing news quite yet. Not while he still has such a tiny hiney, and while he still seems so completely innocent. And please, not while he still says "baby suit". sigh.

He has enough to worry about as it is. Little does he know I'm about to sneak up and pinch those sandy cheeks. However, little do I know that he is about to stomp in that deceptively deep pool of water to his right... I think he saw sensed me coming all along. The freedom from clothing restraint is clearly heightening all of his senses.

It's so true about everything being new and exciting through the eyes of a child.

"The End". ahem.

                                                                  
Photo by Gillian Crane.

Altar-ations

If you have been astute enough to notice that progress is grinding to a halt awfully slow on our massive restoration project...

Well, um, er.....*cough*. (Yeah, I've got nothin'.)

It's been painfully slow. Painfully. We're WAY behind schedule. Everyone is beyond ready to be finished. Please send help.

And yet, beauty is still forthcoming. The original pieces that were removed from the church altar have been restored and are being re-purposed as part of the kitchen.  Stripping and sanding off ninety-some-odd years of paint was no easy feat, and luckily that job fell to someone who took it on with much enthusiasm. And then he quit.

Needless to say, that person was not me. But it could have been.

Some pieces were cut short to fit on the sides of the island.

On this side, a spot was left open for an ice machine. Hey, it gets H.O.T. in Texas!

Other pieces were left longer to trim out the front of the counter that runs along the perimeter of the kitchen.

This counter will allow for seating on the main floor, and it steps up to serving height from the kitchen side.

The design runs in a graceful arc that replicates the original curve of the altar.

As luck would have it, we have exactly one piece left over. Divine provenance?

This gives a birds-eye view of what is happening in the space. Notice my workshop that is visible through the opening above the kitchen. I'm taking this photo from the loft completely on the other side of the building, about as far away from being hard at work as possible.

Did I mention that we are behind schedule?

And yes, the "living room" still looks like this.

Thanks for asking.

Stamps of Approval

Once long, long ago (18 months ago, give or take), and in a land far, far away (Southern California), I was a working artist.

This was before "the project". I think I still had a life then. I can't quite remember.

But I do remember the day in early 2005 when one of my brothers called to tell me about a piece of art that he had seen hanging in the offices of a large philanthropic organization. This piece of art had really mesmerized him, and he had been quietly obsessing about it ever since. 

And the reason for this obsession? Stamps.

He has had hundreds of them. He was careening perilously close to having thousands. From all corners of the globe. He and his family have been doing humanitarian work for many years, and it has taken them all over Central and South America, as well as several parts of Africa, Asia, and Russia. I have been with them to Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua, but I am still anxiously waiting for the mission trip to the opera house in Sydney, Australia. So far, that particular trip hasn't materialized.

Anyway, on these dozens of trips over these many years, he began to collect stamps from the countries they were visiting, and sometimes the countries they were just passing through. Easy to obtain, easy to pack and carry, relatively inexpensive. Then word spread that he was collecting, and people began to send him stamps. And the little manilla envelopes that held them all began to bulge and spill over. What to do...he couldn't just toss them, but really, how many stamps can a grown man have in a filing cabinet at work just lying around?

And then he saw it. A map of the world collaged in stamps. And he knew just who to call, because he knew I would be intrigued by the challenge. When he explained it to me on the phone that first day, I immediately knew just how it would look completed, even before I saw any stamps. He emailed me a very grainy image of the one he had seen, taken by someone's camera phone and emailed to him. What I could make out was a much more impressionist version, with simple changes in stamp color hinting at the land masses. It was beautiful, but as all artists do, I had my own vision for the project.

Of course, my vision was going to require tracing and cutting hundreds of tiny stamps into hundreds and hundreds of teeny-tiny pieces. Sometimes I wish my visions were simpler.

So he sent me the stamps, and I got to work.  (Actually I got to work about six months later, after he called and gently prodded me. I'm going with "creative block", because I have no other excuse, really.)

 

This piece is large. It measures about 44" x 60". You have no idea how small some countries get if the scale isn't large enough. I mean, Sri Lanka might have gotten left on the cutting room floor!

My goal was to represent each country with stamps that actually were issued by that country. That added greatly to the stress level challenge involved in this project. I would seriously have mild panic attacks about losing my one and only Madagascar stamp, and there were many times in the two months that it took me to complete this that I would lose track of my prized floral Indonesian stamps or my favorite statue of David stamp that was perfect for the boot of Italy. Ack! My studio space at that time was small to say the least, and stamps were Every.Where. Luckily, they were all ultimately found, even if sometimes it was on the bottom of a shoe.

Needless to say, my brother did not have stamps from every country in the world, and with his permission, I supplemented his supply with ones I needed from online auctions and private sellers. Stamps are surprisingly inexpensive when you don't need collector quality, and the small packages that arrive in the mail are magical in their diversity and diminutive beauty.

I have to say, I am really grateful for the way that this project reminded me about the details of world geography that I had become "fuzzy" on, and I was amazed at how connected I felt to the different countries as I was cutting and gluing their shapes to canvas all those weeks in my tiny studio. It was so interesting to observe the artwork that had been chosen by each government as a representation of their culture. Stamps from the African nations, for example, are very colorful, while the South American ones all have a vintage-y feel, very much like old cigar bands. Makes for very cohesive continents.

You may notice that all of the USA stamps are the traditional flag design, with the exception of the one along the Gulf of Mexico. I was working on this piece in the fall of 2005, while watching television coverage of Hurricane Katrina, so I used a "Love" stamp for the Louisiana/Mississippi region.

All in all, I used just over two thousand stamps. The distressed border is painted as part of the canvas, and there are many thin coats of an antiquing glaze applied as a finishing element, to sort of bring it all together.

This collage now hangs in the lobby of my brother's business. When I visited him last month, it was the first time I had seen it since I rolled it up and shipped it off to him. I am told that visitors love to stand up close to it, and are often surprised when they notice the detail. I am happy that it is well received. But mostly I care if he loves it, and I'm pretty sure he does. He was emotional on the phone when he first received it, and that made every stamp stuck to the table and every glue jar dumped on the floor totally worth it.

I had seriously sworn off of stamps forever after this project, but now that it has been nearly three years since I finished, I actually think I may want to do another one for The Boy. Cause now I'm the one with hundreds of stamps. Maybe close to thousands.

In a filing cabinet.

Daddies and Daughters

There was a June wedding in our family.

A bride and her bridesmaids.
Mothers and friends, aunts, nieces, female cousins.
The fairer sex was everywhere.

But other than the bride, which girl is the most excited at a wedding in that "deep-down, twirl-around-the-room" kind of way??

I'm pretty sure it's the flower girl.

So much joy in the celebration. Getting your hair done with the bride and her attendants. A beautiful new dress and slippers, a crown of flowers, and your name right there in the program! All-in-all, a dream come true for a young girl.

But, oh wait...the very best thing? A dance or two (or three) with dad.

Yes, this dad. This dad who doesn't dance. I have known this particular brother for forty-@#*%& years now, and he just doesn't dance. Sigh. I will never be able to figure out how men who are so athletically gifted just decide at a young age that they won't can't dance. They will publicly get knocked out, thrown down, battered, bruised and bloodied in the name of sport, but ask them to go "once around the dance floor"....Noooooooooo!

But dance he did on this stormy June night in Florida, as his youngest became the newest flower girl in the family. Bless him, he danced and danced. And she never stopped beaming. She probably hasn't stopped yet.

I picture bedtime at their house the past two weeks has gone something like this:

"Hey dad, remember when we danced at the wedding?"
"Yes, honey, I do."
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"That was really fun."

I wish men "got" this about dancing. It really does make them the total package. This particular man is kind and smart, funny and hardworking. A great father. A great brother. But when he dances with a woman who loves him, well, we (the females in his family) all stand back with our hands folded ever so lightly on our chests, holding our collective breath. We are moved. We are girls.

And this is how happy a little dancing made one lucky flower girl. And her dad.

(Let's pause here for a moment and try to determine where this beautiful child got her giant smile.)

Just because I love this photo so much, I'm adding in the color version. And now let's ponder where she got those eyes. Wait, actually I'm pretty sure those are from her mother. Sorry, bro.

And just for the record, yes, other males in my family danced that night, too. In public. And I have proof. 

Just sayin'.

Happy 4th!

Happy 4th, everyone!