Sunshine and honeysuckle

See? I told you I had some drawings in the work--a pretty little bit of California honeysuckle for your Thursday morning? It's a west coast native, our east coast counterpart is coral honeysuckle, but for the purpose of this illustration {and it's other use, a project still in the works} I liked the form of the California flowers better.

Later today the kid and I are going to pick as many green beans as we can. I have a friend who is so tired of green beans he's just abandoned the picking--dilly beans and pressure canning are in my near future.

You know what else is in my near future? Homegrown, fresh field peas. "H" to the ellz yeah!

representative of who I am

As my interest in food (fresh and pure), art, and the activism innate to both intertwine with more complexity every day, I often wonder what that means as far as the direction of my art. I feel like my work needs to be representative of who I am; at least, that's the type of art that I keeps me most self-assured.

The thing is, there are lots of people with similar styles and that makes me question my originality. Enter Communal Table. A zine cookbook with illustrations so awesome they make me want to just go ahead and give up now.

party. travel. travel. party.

Hopefully I'm just fashionably late for the party, not missed the boat late, but I just joined GoodReads.


I haven't done anything with my account yet, but hopefully I'll remember to. I need to look back into that other site that was a book trade sight. . .hmmm. I don't even remember what that one was called.

Yellow Canoe has a new design coming out and I'm already eying one for my parent's beach house. Then there's this $12.50 necklace that I'm drooling over, and the price is undeniably good. Snap it up? Ack! Deep questioning over needs and wants ensues.

El Gato Dice Meow is too much for this senorita to handle.

Crappity crap, got to get back on the no buy bandwagon.



Speaking of impossible, this weekend is the Indie Craft Experience, one of the best craft shows in the Southeast--no joke. If you can, come out and say, "Hi!" and just try to not buy anything, I dare you.
This is one of those shows where I purposefully try to stay in my booth the whole time or I'll end up spending all of the profits and gas money home. Yes. It's that good.

Still don't believe me? Wolfie and the Sneak (below right) will be parked right next to Jess Gonacha (below left)--we're a double doozy of eye candy for your wall. Buy something from both of us, 'cause our work was born to hang together. (get it? ok, sorry, that was a bad pun.)

Isn't it wonderful how dreams can change so seamlessly. Usually it's in hindsight we remember what we were and what we've become.

When I was a little kid I played with my Barbies and played house, made mud pie and acorn stew. I thought I would never be 5 feet tall (and along with that thought I could be a professional jockey) and that all 18 year old girls actually looked like Barbie and went to the prom in a limo.

Now I wonder why I had those thoughts and dreams, how they've changed and how my home isn't the archetype, but it is absolutely heaven. I surpassed 60 inches when I was in junior high, maintained my brown hair and less curvaceous figure, and went to my junior prom with a guy who had a crush on my best friend. I totally skipped out on senior prom.
It all looks so different in the distance.

By now we've all come to realize the impossibility of originality, right? {my thoughts, another instance by Stephanie DosReis, Abigail Percy's recent post}
It's a concept that needs continual dialogue. It's important to recognize the individual artistic fingerprint, I believe. But I wonder, how we can each maintain our place and voice without seemingly copying?

This morning on flickr, I saw an uncannily familiar piece, by the very talented and popular Cecilia Levy. Or what about when you do a piece and find a close match elsewhere later, by a much more popular person? Does this happen to anyone else out there, and do you feel like I do once you stumble upon the other image?

{I feel like an impostor. Like I was singing with my own voice, only to find out I was lip synching all along, despite knowing I wasn't in the slightest informed of those pieces. Like despite my own previous body of work, in relation to the popularity of others I don't have the right to the imagery of my interests and imagination.}