What better way to test out the settings for my new camera than vlogging?
I hope to stick with it!
{happy accidents!}
My thought process when I returned to this piece:
“I really don't want to sit up and paint her in acrylics.”
“Really?”
“Really. What if I did her muted, like Cassie?”
“Eh.”
“Plus, I like being able to see the map and dots.”
“OH! What if you painted her in watercolors?”
“YES. WINNING IDEA!”
So I collected together my watercolor set, waterbrush, and intense pencils, curled up on the couch, put on a movie, and finished her.
AND I LOVE IT.
I love how her hair came out. I love the shading I was able to do. I love the shirt and skirt. I want to do more more MORE!
This is how new ideas are born, guys! You just need to think outside the box of what you're supposed to and just do what you think might work.
I've gessoed some pages in my journal, put House on, and am ready to sketch and play around!
(I'll have this one up as a print later this week.)
{how I draw}
I took a little time for me today.
That may sound silly -- I get to create for a living! But the truth of the matter is, I'm usually working on pages and projects for others, and don't really get to sit down and play. Do something for me. I really should work this into my day, and I do get to write in the evenings; I really missed it. I put in my headphones, turned on good music, and just said,
"World, I am taking a break for a few minutes. I'll be back."
And picked up a canvas.
I love working on paintings. I often start with a quote or idea, then build up the layers from there. This one's surprised me with how it seems to just be coming together on its own. I haven't done a painting like this on such a tiny canvas before, so I'm learning as I go along how to put things together. As I look at it now, I realize I don't have any room for the writing I want to do -- I'll probably end up covering the tree.
But that's OK. It all is OK. I'm playing and experimenting and trying to figure things out. Does my girl look odd, maybe. But that's how I draw. You can draw perfect faces or realistic portraits, but I'll stick with my illustration style. I adore it. I can speak through it. This is me -- how I'd like to be, what I strive to be. And this is my world as I see it. No one will ever experience this piece as I do, but if it does anything once I finish -- if one single person is touched or gets the message -- then my work is done.
Time to head to the post office, put together kits for others, do a little extra for a new contact, go out for coffee. Take photos for a short piece, email an editor, and then, maybe, get to my journal.
Thank God for weekends.
(And Fridays, for Fringe. *bounces*)
PS. I've uploaded to Flickr, so you can once again click through to see the larger size. Also, sorry for the blurry-ness...I snapped these with my phone while working!
{contemplate, plan, doodle, and dream}
So, uh, hi everyone! I'm still alive. I think this may be one of the longest times I've gone without blogging. It wasn't really for any other reason than feeling I had nothing in my life worth blogging. But as I look back on my week now, I realized two things:
1. I totally had stuff to blog about.
2. I need to take more pictures, because wordy posts can make your brain hurt.
Not that I don't love writing. I can write for hours without a break, just letting the words flow. In fact, this morning, my mother was telling me about a book she downloaded to her Kindle.
"There were all these errors," she said, then explained them. "Kira, you're such a gifted writer. You should be submitting your stories to the Kindle store."
"Naw," I blushed. (I am one of those people who can't take a compliment; I get really uncomfortable and shy!)
"You could just change the names and publish them!" she smiled.
And I love that my mother knows the stories I spend my nights writing aren't original pieces of fiction (sidenote: I've been working on the same fan story for about two months, now, and it's at 35,000 words. I'm a wordy girl!). But her comment got me to thinking: Why not try to write something original and submit it? There's something that tells me I'm GOOD at this -- that I can put together words in an eye-pleasing way. That I can pull you into a story. So why haven't I done this, yet? Why haven't I gone ahead and tried?
Anyway, there's one thought rattling around in my head!
--
I also headed over to Glendale with Tina for the area's mixed-media meetup group thingy (collective, right?). We always get there early because it's either get there an hour early and wander around the shop, or get there late because of rush-hour. I'm pretty sure everyone else in the group is from the west valley, but I've never been one to shy away from something fun just because of a little drive.
As always, it was fun to hang out with all the gals. Tina has some photos on her blog, as do Dina and Julie (who was our special guest!). And remember that starburst stencil I used? I know someone asked me where I got it/who made it. Turns out it is by Crafter's Workshop, who's owner, Jamie, came to our little shindig as well and gave us stencils. YAY! How can you turn down free stencils? She's such a sweetie and her company makes the best stencils ever, so head over there and check them out!
--
I've had a few deadlines this week, and a few more things moved around, so I never know if I'm coming or going! I did, however, get things done early (shocker!) and am now reading things over, formatting stuff, and taking many pictures to really get the best one instead of the one I quickly snapped.
As for my journaling/art/paintings/creations:
I'm going through an awkward growth phase. I'm flipping back and forth to work on several pages at once, and my new explorations have the thick stretched and bulging so much, I can't use the elastic to keep it closed anymore! I'm trying to figure out a way to put all this newness into words I can share with you, but until I can, I shall leave you with some photos of the pages I'm working on/have recently finished.
Maybe, tonight, I'll sit down with my notebook and try to figure this all out. I know it's something new and exciting and amazing, but haven't been able to do words -- just images and little doodles and things here and there. A painting is taking shape in my mind, an idea, a bit of wonder. I just need to be open to it all.
--
Here are two final bits of stuff! (can you tell how cluttered my head has become?)
1. I've put up the button journal I made as the example for my Button Journal Workshop on Etsy. It's such a darling little thing, and when I made it, I was originally going to use it, but then I found some things to make a new journal and am going through this odd patch, so it needs a home!
Sold before I could post this!
2. I've started a side-project called Born Brave. It's a newsletter of sorts -- more letters & essays. A diary of possibility & living with chronic illness. I've gotten tons of emails and comments over the years about how, by sharing my story, I've inspired others to try. And I've written essays on creativity and chronic illness for years, just never knew where to put them. Why is it paid? For two reasons. A. Because I get really personally -- more so than I ever have in public before. A letter system like this keeps the actual content off the internet. B. Chronic illness means no insurance, tons of doctor's appointments, and meds. And I'll be honest, I'm struggling on that point. I'm hoping to get guests to write essays and letters, too, and if this grows large enough, be able to pay them for their help (right now, they will get a month free).
Have I talked your ear off? Or your eyes, since you're reading? What do I sound like when you read my words in your head?
Ahem. I'm going off to contemplate, plan, doodle, and dream. I'll catch y'all tomorrow.
with love,
Samie Kira
{two amazing lessons on one adventurous night}
The cover for my new (next) journal is drying, and the sun’s casting a warm glow over my little area, so I thought I’d pause from picking the PVA from my fingers and finally sit down to write this post.
It’s a week late, as in the events in it happened a week ago, about 30 minutes from now, but I haven’t really been in the mood to write it until now. Forgive me if I ramble, or get deep; I’m writing this as I think, more like telling a story to a friend rather than writing a concise blog post.
Then again, I treat this blog as an open letter to a friend, or to myself, beginning with art six years ago.
There’s this thing in Phoenix called First Fridays. I heard about it pretty soon after I moved here in October, while searching for artful gatherings near me. It’s described as America’s largest self-guided art walk, with galleries and shops opening their doors to a wandering public looking for a good time and great art. There are vendors at several points along the way, and a free trolley helps you get around.
Last Thursday, I was watching Up. And you know the beginning, the part that makes you cry? It also made me realize that the way I was going, I’d have dreams painted on all my walls and never have done one of them. So I decided there and then that I was going to do First Friday. I’m usually hesitant about such things, not because I don’t like crowds or adventures, but rather know I’ll pay for a long walk and physical activity the day, or days, later. A nice little Fibromyalgia parting gift.
But I was going to do it. I had a back-up Vicodin in my pocket, and packed my purse with my journal, a handful of art prints, my wallet, and digital camera. I also packed my younger brother, K, in the car, and we drove to the Phoenix Art Museum to park and catch the trolley. I don’t really know the area, so I figured this would be the best way to go.
So we grabbed a map and stood in the crowd waiting for the East trolley. And that thing was packed as tightly as a Japanese train during rush hour (I presume; I’ve only ridden the Japanese train system during their 9pm rush hour, so the earlier ones could be lighter. Then again, I doubt that very much!). We were the first two to have to stand, and so we rode on down to Roosevelt holding onto the gold bars running above the seats that were smudged with fingerprints.
It’s a week late, as in the events in it happened a week ago, about 30 minutes from now, but I haven’t really been in the mood to write it until now. Forgive me if I ramble, or get deep; I’m writing this as I think, more like telling a story to a friend rather than writing a concise blog post.
Then again, I treat this blog as an open letter to a friend, or to myself, beginning with art six years ago.
There’s this thing in Phoenix called First Fridays. I heard about it pretty soon after I moved here in October, while searching for artful gatherings near me. It’s described as America’s largest self-guided art walk, with galleries and shops opening their doors to a wandering public looking for a good time and great art. There are vendors at several points along the way, and a free trolley helps you get around.
Last Thursday, I was watching Up. And you know the beginning, the part that makes you cry? It also made me realize that the way I was going, I’d have dreams painted on all my walls and never have done one of them. So I decided there and then that I was going to do First Friday. I’m usually hesitant about such things, not because I don’t like crowds or adventures, but rather know I’ll pay for a long walk and physical activity the day, or days, later. A nice little Fibromyalgia parting gift.
But I was going to do it. I had a back-up Vicodin in my pocket, and packed my purse with my journal, a handful of art prints, my wallet, and digital camera. I also packed my younger brother, K, in the car, and we drove to the Phoenix Art Museum to park and catch the trolley. I don’t really know the area, so I figured this would be the best way to go.
So we grabbed a map and stood in the crowd waiting for the East trolley. And that thing was packed as tightly as a Japanese train during rush hour (I presume; I’ve only ridden the Japanese train system during their 9pm rush hour, so the earlier ones could be lighter. Then again, I doubt that very much!). We were the first two to have to stand, and so we rode on down to Roosevelt holding onto the gold bars running above the seats that were smudged with fingerprints.
We didn’t really know where to get off, so I suggested the second Roosevelt stop. Why? Because it looked close to stuff. So we waited and soon were released from the trolley in a gush of human traffic, running into those collected on the corner. We were bombarded by hand-outs and fliers from all sorts of people, our hands quickly stuffed.
But it wasn’t until we began wandering down 5th Street that we really realized where we were.
A magical, awesome land.
I don’t really know how to describe it other than to show you photographs K took, as he lifted the camera from me sometime on the trolley (note: I wish I had the names of the artists pictured here, but since I wasn't paying attention, I didn't grab cards from all of them). Which was fine, as I was jumping after everything. There are little coffee shops (one sold coffee and crapes!) and tiny galleries where the owners sleep in the back rooms. Giant covered front lawns cluttered with mismatched picnic tables. Back lots with more art to see or bands to hear.
People were selling paintings and prints, jewelry and sculptures made from found objects. One woman had several hula-hoops with ribbon wrapped around them. The night was warm and all around us, conversations blended into that rich background that makes you feel more alive just through knowing there are others around you. You could close your eyes or look up at the stars and just feel the creative energy saturating your clothes, your very bones.
I quickly reconized the need to carry a water bottle, and bought one at the coffee and crepes place. K declined. And then, suddenly, we came upon a table covered in cupcakes, water bottles, and --
“Or any of this stuff!” the girl said. “We don’t take money, only trades.”
“And no cell phones,” the second one added.
K laughed. “People have offered you their cell phones?”
“Yep!”
“What’s all that?” I asked. The first girl had a flashlight pointed at a pile of seemingly unconnected junk, random bits you’d find at the bottom of your purse.
“Things people have traded us.”
“Well,” I said, “Those cupcakes look delicious.” I quickly balanced my purse on the table and began digging through all the papers and fliers we’d already collected out of wanting to avoid confrontation, looking for the pile of prints I’d shoved in ‘just in case.’ I pulled out You Can Fly and handed it to the second girl. “Here. K, do you want something?”
“That bottle of water,” he replied.
“This is so cool!” the second girl said, once her friend shined the flashlight on the print. I smiled, K opened the bottle of water, and we continued on.
“I can’t believe my art just bought you that bottle of water,” I told K.
“I know. It’s awesome.”
And he drank half the damn bottle right there.
--
We stepped up onto the high patio of a print shop, where K looked through screenprinted t-shirts. I eyed the decorated flasks in the corner. Outside, on the patio, a DJ changed songs, the beat vibrating through the brick shop.
“These are cool,” he said.
“They’re screenprinted.”
We walked back out into the heat of April in the desert. As we hopped down, K said, “You should do that, Sam.”
“Right. With my little Yudu.”
“It would be really cool.”
I laughed into the night air.
We walked back towards the corner where a company was handing out free cans of something called Sun Drop. I took the offered drink, and so did K. As we neared the corner and the amber light of a streetlight, he held his out.
“I got diet.”
“Good,” I smiled.
We switched drinks and popped open the tabs. It wasn’t half-bad.
--
We entered a white building with chipping paint, deep red showing through the cracks. A fence inside guided us around to a gallery area, where paintings and pieces from all sorts of mediums stood freely or hung on the walls. Right next to the entrance sat a grey box with
THIS WAY TOWARD ENEMY
stenciled on it. It was painted on all visible surfaces.
K laughed at the mirror and camera installation that showed your image over the word SUSPECT.
We went up a staircase to nowhere, descended, and headed back out.
--
Across the way, an open field boasted tented stalls of all sorts of things. K pulled out the camera while I explored one covered in pink. Another had hand-made jewelry that took my breath away and made me regret not pulling any cash out of an ATM before driving down. A display of brass stencils caught my eye, and as I went through them, I remarked,
“Wow. I had about 500 of these in Illinois.”
The owner sighed. “You should have put them on eBay!”
“They might still be in the garage,” I replied.
I grabbed a card after running my fingers over darling earrings, the pang of not being able to bring them home with me a pain that would remind me for next month.
--
We crossed the street to where a band was playing in front of a record shop.
As I walked through the latticed walls covered in paintings, I couldn’t help but feel small. Not in stature, but talent. And here’s where the first amazing thing of the night happened.
Instead of feeling hopeless and depressed, I felt empowered.
Why? Because seeing the work there, being in front of the paintings and saying hello to the tattooed artists who probably have jobs during the day and do this on the side, or struggle by on sales alone, showed me what is possible. I remember reading an interview with Pam Carriker, and the intro said, “She has 20 years experience in art.”
20 years? How can I possible think my art now can be compared to anything like that after only 6? Yes, some people succeed overnight. Others need practice and passion. I was wailing to Lia one night a year ago and she told me, “You know, it took Sabrina [Ward Harrison] 10 years to make any money off her books.”
And walking around, seeing those pieces, I realized I’m only in my artistic infancy. I’m just starting, drawing stick figures with my fingers in kindergarten. I have so much yet to discover and uncover in myself. There’s so many things I need to go through in order to get the rich stuff out. And I’m doing the best anyone wanting to be an artist can -- I am making art every day. A sketch here, watercolors there. Maybe some writing in my Harajuku Lovers composition book Lia sent me to fill with new Arizona dreams. Other days, I’m experimenting with the laugh and disregard of rules of a mad scientist.
Maybe it won’t happen today or tomorrow, but it will as long as I keep showing up. I love the paintings I do now. I love the paintings I did last year. And I can see, when looking between them, how much I’ve grown and learned. There’s a adage in the TV business that goes like this -- in order to get a writing gig in TV, you have to submit a spec script (a script of an episode of an established show in the genre you want to write for). And everyone tells you you don’t submit your first or second or even your fifth. You submit that sixth one, because every one before that was just for practice.
I’m pretty sure it’s the same for art.
--
Our finale for the night was the Firehouse, where artists from all over sell their artwork, jewelery, clothes, and other odds and ends. I walked around and felt like I had to do something. Like this was one of those moments I could either grab for or paint on my walls.
“How does one get to sell stuff here?” I asked.
I got a card. And an enthusiastic, “We’re always looking for new artists!” before we left.
And we were just about to turn and walk to the trolley stop when I noticed there was something pointing to the back lot. Hugging the side of the building was a path lined with roses and bushes growing over a lattice fence. We came out into an area with a stage and chairs and couches set out for the audience. Not knowing what we walked into, K and I took a seat.
Now, you know that feeling I had earlier? That push to go outside my comfort zone and do something? Collect stories instead of pictures on the walls?
I just knew it was going to get me into trouble, because not five minutes later, I was randomly chosen to go up on stage. This wasn’t a volunteer thing -- this was a, “We’re going to pick you and you’re going to do this, damnit!” kind of deal. And I didn’t know what we were going to be doing until I climbed up onto the stage -- and I can still feel the embarrassment tingling across my skin as I write this -- and found out...
Oh, you thought I was going to tell you, didn’t you.
I will reveal this: the second amazing thing that happened that night. A piece of advice for all you afraid to do things you feel in your heart in fear of being embarrassed or laughed at. For those moments when you feel like a moron and want to shrink and hide.
I’m pretty sure -- no, positive -- it is nothing bigger than participating in an orgasmic moaning competition on stage in front of 50 strangers and your little brother recording the whole damn thing on the digital camera he lifted from you an hour ago.
So next time you’re frightened to do something in order to save face or avoid embarrassment, think to yourself, “Is this more scary that what Kira had to do?”
Yeah. Didn’t think so.
And it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I didn’t come in first, but wasn’t last, either, which is a plus. And the rest of the night, I was laughing and smiling because nothing could touch me after that.
--
My brother opted to keep my door prize. And the camera. He said, “I’m so showing this to mom when we get back.”
“Uhh...just as long as it doesn’t end up on YouTube.”
He gave me a wicked smile as we reached the corner where the trolley would be picking us up.
It was across from a Light Rail station.
“Next time, we’re taking that down here,” I said with a tight smile, still wondering how I could get the camera back. “Cause we could have stayed so much later.”
--
K gave me the camera after I revealed, as we sat on the trolley back to the art museum, that I had the dongle that plugged into the computer at the bottom of my purse.
He asked for it back two hours later.
--
The next day, I walked into the bookstore and gave my number to the guy there I’d been crushing on for a few weeks. After the night before, what was a little flirting?
(And if you’re reading this, why haven’t you called? And if you did, why no voice mail?)
Perhaps that’s the final lesson. That you can have all the practice in the world, get rid of the embarrassment from your life, but in the end, you’ve gotta own it. All of it.
So stop painting pictures on your walls and get out into the world.
It’s waiting.
{video: art journal workshop's return!}
Oh, have I had the most frustrating last few days! I'll spare you the details, but I'm going to back off from the computer for a bit, get back into my creating groove, and take my cousin's advice: let it out on a canvas.
I'm going to be honest, though, with what little I feel to share. I have tons of blog posts piled up (rather, drawn on a nice, big mind-map), artwork to share, stories to tell. I've been having an amazing time just floating along, but it's time for me to start kicking my feet and taking stops on the bank instead of waiting for someone to call my name. And that requires a lot of thought and notes and good music.
One thing I really want to start doing again is record my process. I love sharing it, and have finally gotten a layout in the Closet Studio that works. However, when you watch the video, you may notice its quality is...lacking. As someone who prides herself on her work, I am so frustrated, I almost didn't share it. I want to present videos that are of stellar quality, yet don't have the ability to do it. My camcorder, which I've used to film workshops and videos for the last two years, is on its last legs. It makes this clicking and popping sound when recording, which means my audio for the video workshop, thus far, can't be used. Yay for voice-overs, right? Except the Mac doesn't have a mic, and I can't get one to work.
Here's what I've had to do in order to present this video to you:
1. Record with the webcam via my netbook.
2. Import the video into Windows Movie Maker, then re-encode the video (takes about 35 min. per section, and I had 7).
3. Copy video files onto flash drive (another 15 min. per section).
4. Copy video files into iMovie on the Mac (a. 10 min per section, and b. the virus that killed my laptop killed Final Cut *sobs*)
5. Edit. And render everything.
Now, at this point, I'd simply upload to YouTube, right?
Except I can't. It times out or something after 15%. I've switched browsers, restarted the computer, tried the Java uploader. I can't seem to get this thing up on YouTube. So last night, I let it upload to my server while I slept.
So, 4 days later, here it is. And I'm not happy with it. I hate that the quality's so low. Wish I could have cut more stuff down. I hate presenting anything but my best, and part of me thinks all my problems were signs. Or lessons. Who knows?
Get the Flash Player to see this video.
Get the Flash Player to see this video.
I have put together some collage packs of all my favorite supplies from my stash, and am using them to raise funds for a new camera -- I've found an amazing, cross-platform, HD camera I'd pet and cherish and love -- so I can finish filming the video workshop and get back to being more consistent with my video creation. So if you like pretty things, please help a girl out?
Right now is a frustrating time for me. I'm between projects which means my income is next to nothing. This is part of the struggle trying to make a living off your art, and I hear the advice friends have given me echoing in my head. I just need to think and plan and create and stop getting distracted.
Now, if I could only get this menu program to work right, I could get these DVDs out today. I've gone through 3 trying to figure it out. My DVD program was also a casualty of the virus; I'm going to stay here and keep working until I get it done. No matter how long it takes, or how much my back aches.
(It doesn't help that my FMS is being extra-sensitive lately, and I'm getting next to no sleep. After a few days, you really start to feel it!)
{a mish-mash of welcome back stuff!}
I had intented on posting pictures from First Friday, but my brother, who flew in late last week and has since gotten the desktop back up and running (can we say horay for that!) left earlier with my little dongle that lets me plug my memory card into my desktop. Alas, you shall have to survive today's blog post with shots from the studio.
I know. We can get through this, together.
As you see, the desktop has been ressurected from near death due to, perhaps, contracting the only Mac virus known to man. I have all my things backed-up, but they have to stay on the second hard drive since restoring the old settings only crashes the whole thing. We went through 12 OS reinstalls before we figured that one out.
I feel like this post is just a mish-mash of things that have happened. Tomorrow, you'll get actual thought and theme -- I've discovered mind-mapping thanks to Violette, and have all sorts of stuff planned out for my little corner of the web.
As I type this, I'm converting video files on my netbook so I can edit them together on the desktop. It is a long process, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow to view it.
Still cooking up journaling and paintings like a mad scientist let loose in a Jo-Ann Fabrics (which will happen shortly). I've got so many amazing ideas I can't wait to share, and see it all coming together in something more like a book than a simple online class. I will, however, be doing the online version of it coming this summer.
(I just love summer for creative ventures, for lazy days and warm air and dips in the pool.)
I'm totally going for a list at this point:
1. The DVDs for the Button Journal Workshop are shipping tomorrow. Keep your eyes peeled for 'em!
2. Through the Lens starts this May. I've reworked it to be a self-paced class, making it easier for you to absorb all the information. There will, of course, be an online forum for you to post questions and results. It's a really awesome class for those of you looking to learn how to make videos of your art.
3. I'm putting together collage packs. I loved getting my first one of these about 5 years ago, and am aiming to re-create the experiance. Look out for them this week -- papers, trims, buttons, threads, bits, color....all kinds of awesome stuff, both found, purchased, and made!
I totally need to get moving! Being a night owl is fun, but stores don't really conform to my schedule! See ya tomorrow with a real post.
{a mosaic of journal pages}
I was recently asked over on my Tumblr if I could upload some journal pages. So, I grabbed my camera this afternoon and snapped some pics. Some are in-progress, some are finished...I'm really exploring what can be put into a journal, and trying new things. A lot of these were done in the past few days...I'm really flying!
I also have blue paint on my leg. Yeah, I don't know how that happened, either.
I've also written a tiny bit about each. Check 'em out on Flickr!