stuff about artstuff.

Other Projects

An outing a couple months ago launched a few very different non-illustration creative projects I've been having fun with lately.

We wandered around salvage yards

and dug through scrap bins at a leather and hide seller.

The salvage pieces were to become display pieces to feature my friend Joe's hats for a few pop-up shops he would be having at our local Fluevog store.

For these I relearned how to do paper mache

and had a blast collaborating to build the pieces.

I think my favorite was my Medusa head, designed especially for the event that would coincide with a mythic-themed convention.

She looked pretty awesome showing off the snake hat, too.

Digging through the leather scrap bins started a-whole-nuther fun project:

I've been back making earrings again, and having a blast.

I realized that my older jewelry had sort of gotten lost in my main Etsy shop, so I've opened up a second shop: Artstuff Jewelry. I'm hoping that having a place of their own to showcase my earrings will help customers find them and ultimately, give me an excuse to make a lot more - because it's super fun for me.

These projects have gotten a different flavor of creative juices flowing which feels awesome, and there's actually more of these kinds of things on the back burners - can't wait to share the rest of it with you guys. In the meantime, I'm busy working with my awesome licensing partners on a few new collections and will keep you posted about that when I can, too.

Happy Spring to you all and thanks again for visiting!

xoBeth

Pinterest Attempts to Sum Me Up:

Here's one that falls under the "probably only amusing to me" category: are you a Pinterester?  Have you tried this "Explore Interests" feature?  I just discovered it and it's sort of cracking me up.  I realize it's just a handy way to entice me to interact with new and different pinners but somehow I'm more intrigued by the list itself; it's like they've written my very own personal Pina Colada song:

Hi, I'm Beth. I like Crows, Garden Accessories, Iris Apfel, Atlanta, Radishes, American Beauty, William Morris, Elephants, Fairy Houses, Typography, Wedges (the shoes), Birdhouses, Avocado, Tree Houses, Fonts, Fairies, Easter Card, Pantone, Anthropologie, Monday Quotes (hmm, really?), Ravens, Quinoa, Garden Ideas, Fennel, Bats, Washington State, Wes Anderson, Plants, Vanilla Cake, Lambs, Plates, Syrup, Fairy Doors, Hand Lettering, Old Signs, Trellis, Cauliflower Pizza, Vintage Fonts, Kale, Greeting Cards, Gingers (no offense to my extremely-redheaded friends but I think this is supposed to be about recipes, not hair color), The Life Aquatic, Louise Fili, Paper Mache, Chickpea Salad, Honey, Carrots, Ireland, Olympic Peninsula, Salads, Blackberries, Sheds, Pets, Industrial Interiors, Quilt Shop, Polka Dots, Kombucha, Old Photographs, Vintage Christmas, Garden Gates, Lemonade, Ginger Beer, Vintage Photos, Rabbits, Bees, Sand Castles, Buckets, Open Shelving, Wallpaper,  and Barns.

I can't say there's anything here I don't like - so they're probably not too far off.  They've decided that I'm a big American Beauty (the movie) fan because I've pinned a lot of my fabric of the same name . . . but it just so happens that it is one of my favorite movies, too.  

I mean, I like lambs and syrup just as much as the next guy (not together, silly) but honestly I never gave either of them that much thought . . . or so I have been telling myself all these years.

So if you also have a thing for radishes, tree houses, William Morris, polka dots, or ginger beer, maybe you should follow me on Pinterest (or I should be following you!) because apparently we have that in common.  Or if not - well, you might have even half as much fun as me finding your own "Explore Interests" list.

The Glamorous Life of a Licensing Artist

If you know me and have had a conversation about working at home any time in the past few years, there's a good chance I've told you this story at least once already.  This post is for the rest of you, though (specifically the friend I was chatting with this morning about the subject!).  Not sure why, but it has been sitting in my Drafts folder here on my blog for almost 4 years:

 

Running my business here from home, most days I only really get dressed enough to walk the dog in something that won't upset the neighbors, yet I still exist under the delusion that clothes and fashion actually matter in my world; case in point:

A while back, dozing off with the television on; a beautiful actress is a guest on a late-night talk show.  She looks flawless in an amazing purple dress.

Beth:  (struck by the lines of this gorgeous dress, then suddenly horrified by terrible images popping out of her long-forgotten subconscious) "Wow, weird.  I haven't seen shoulder-pads in a long time.  This must mean they're coming back?"

Husband-guy:  "Hm.  You say that like it matters to you somehow."

Beth:  "But everything will have shoulder pads again!  Ugh, I look terrible in them . . . I'll have to cut them out and--"

Husband-guy:  "Why are you worried? They won't be putting them in t-shirts and jammie-pants."

Yeah, I hate it when he's right, which happens way too often (don't tell him I said so).  I guess as long as they are used for good and not for evil this won't be so bad...

New York Minute (Plus Extra Bonus Surtex Advice)

Hey there Blog Pals!  Look what I just found, a post I had written a month or so before Surtex. 

Normally I would say something shiny must have caught my eye to draw my attention from this and cause me to forget it, but in the month leading up to the show, it doesn't even take shiny objects.  Could have been anything.  Piece of dust, a hiccup, a loose eyelash, who knows. 

Anyway, here you go, a couple months later:

 

I've been traveling to New York for the Surtex show every May since 2000.  So long now that many of my family and friends have stopped calling it Zyrtec or Syntax or Snorkel or Merkin, and actually remember, and can say, its correct name.  Not all, but many.

As my annual pilgrimage Eastward looms nearer, I am reminded of some of my favorite little moments from past shows.  Not the kind I usually share with you here on my blog, but those odd little private moments that most likely, only I appreciate.

Just last year, this memory is still quite fresh: I found my Happy Place, for about 3 minutes until I was called back to my booth.
I cannot disclose the ultra-top-secret super-hidey don't-even-try-to-find-it location, but oh my word that was an amazing bagel. 

Or there was this pearl from 2006.  Next to my booth was an alcove left empty for the fire-extinguisher.  At some point during the show, a folding chair appeared.  This particular day was bustling and noisy, but this gentleman managed to sleep rather soundly in the hard little chair for about 45 minutes. 

Another favorite chair-related moment, this one walking back to the hotel after the last day of the show in 2007.  A priceless little still-life on West 34th Street.
God I love New York.

You get extra points for today if you remember my little friend Ibbs.  He is actually a useful and practical Bucky neck-pillow that I take with me on airplanes.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
But that face, gosh how it makes me smile when I get back to the room after a long flight, or even longer day at the show.  I just can't help it.

And speaking of long days, the following is still in the running as one of the longest in my entire life:

3 or 4 years ago, on set-up day. 

Sloshed through the streets with a hand-truck in some kind of crazy out-of-nowhere monsoon, after finding out the main Manhattan FedEx office where I'd shipped my displays had recently moved from its convenient location across the street from Javits Center to 11 blocks north.

Good times.

Crossing streets that were literally underwater.  Actual rivers with cars driving through them.

Soaked to the bone (you should have seen the looks on their faces when I splashed through the door of the FedEx office like a soggy dish-rag).

Dried off some during the long hours that followed, setting up my booth.

Exhausted and starving at the end of the day, I could not decide which desperate urge was stronger, so I multitasked.
I am not sure I have ever had a more satisfying slice or a more comforting, refreshing bath.

This time of year, the old Interwebs is bursting at the seams with Surtex advice: new exhibitors looking for it, and seasoned ones giving it.

Although he may not appreciate me sharing this here on my blog (but here I go anyway) I believe Husband-Guy has the all-time-best-bottom-line-Surtex-advice-ever.

A few years ago, it was that usual last-day-afternoon-lull after what had been a very busy show for us.  We finally had a moment to breathe, and he left the booth to walk around and take a peek at the rest of the hall for the first time.  When he came back, he said, "I have 2 pieces of important advice for anyone exhibiting at Surtex: 1. Always have a smile on your face, I don't care how miserable you feel, and 2. Never, ever sit in your booth like you're sitting on the toilet."

Since then, I have been too often reminded when walking the aisles exactly what he was talking about.  It's impossible to never be caught off-guard while "on-display" at a trade-show.  You can't get lipstick off your teeth without making a horrible face.  People yawn.  Heads itch.  Clothing scoots out-of-whack and requires adjustment.  All this happens under those bright lights in a 10' cube, we've all had that sheepish look on our face at one time or another when we realize it's happening.

On busy days with no time for an actual lunch-break, I've been approached more than once having just stolen a bite of something big, chewy, messy, or God-forbid all those things at once, from behind my booth-table.  Actually, doing so pretty much guarantees that the incredibly important person (or group of people) you've been dying to meet with will pop in at that exact moment. 

And many will falter, just for a second: you take a deep breath, lower your head, rest your elbows on your maybe-too-widely spread-apart knees, and forget where you are, even if just for a split-second.  You may not notice in your periphery that someone is passing your booth, and if you could see the look on their face you would be painfully aware that it says,"ew, that guy looks like he's sitting on a toilet." and you can be sure that they do not want to see what fabulous art you are showing on your now might-as-well-be bathroom walls, they are going to dart away quickly, trying their hardest to erase that image from their brain forever and ever.

The highs at Surtex, or any show, are supercrazyhigh.  The absolute exhileration of making deals, brainstorming projects and collections, compliments flying every which way - the excitement is amazing.  This is why we pay the big bucks, it's what we've been leading up to all year.  There's nothing like it.  But between those highs are moments that can feel endless and tortuous in comparison.  For those of you new to the show: be prepared with incredible endurance, patience, and thick skin that you never imagined necessary.  Really, you'll need it.  I don't care who you are, you will.

But don't forget to enjoy those moments, those odd little private moments that most likely, only you will appreciate.

Don't forget those during this busy preparation time, either.  Stop and breathe.  Take a walk.  Smell the flowers.  Listen to music you love.  Light a calming candle.  But if you do, never, ever, ever, EVER do this:

(yes, you're really seeing that).
And that, my friends, is the single best piece of advice I can ever give you: "don't set your art on fire" (unless, of course, you are a conceptual artist and fire is part of the piece itself and you have all safety issues under complete control - other than that, don't do it).

Dia de los Muertos

Halloween's not the only skeletonicious holiday just around the corner, don't forget the 3 day celebration following Halloween...

And for all your Day of the Dead craft-y sew-y needs (you don't think I'm serious?) Joann has brought back my fun flower-skulls pattern again this year!
You can purchase the fabric here or in-person at your local Joann store.

Lurkers Welcome

No, really.  I know you're out there, and it's ok.  There seems to be much ado about the comment thing here in Blogland.  Most consider it impolite if one visits a blog but has nothing to say.  A breach of etiquette to read in silence.

But I've always known that many of my "regulars" are lurkers.  You mention it to me in person, or by email.  Or, my personal favorite ... this was at the bottom of a particularly adorable and cool Christmas card we received this last year... 
(hi k) ...makes me happy to know that there is some connection to people in my life that maybe I'm not talking to as often as I should be, or would like to be ... makes me smile to know that you're out there, even if you're not feeling chatty.

I myself am a pretty shy person.  I know, I know.  Here I am putting myself out here on the Great Big World Wide Interwebs for God and Everybody, and I claim to be shy.  But no, really.  I am.  There are some blogs I've stumbled on, loved, and go back and visit whenever I get a chance, but still have never had the nerve to comment.  I know!  I am a lurker.

I just don't always have stuff to say. 

Or I'm bloghopping on the laptop with Vista, which fights with pretty much all the blog-provider sign-in cookies and sometimes erases comments and shuts down when I try to leave them, so why bother. 

Or, I just don't have stuff to say. 

There was an 8 year lapse between the first time I was introduced to Husband Guy and the time we actually struck up a conversation immediately falling ridiculously and obnoxiously in love, completely aware of how and with whom we would spend the rest of our lives.  During those 8 years, I would see him now and then at parties; we would make short but pleasant small talk and go our separate ways.  My reason for not striking up a conversation? "I don't know, he was always making everyone around him laugh and seemed really funny and entertaining, and I just never had anything clever enough to say to someone like that."

Friends who put up with my constant jibberjabber have always rolled their eyes at this one, but 18 years later, I guess I'm the same way when it comes to chatting up folks I don't already know.

In regular life, one is maybe considered quiet or thoughtful, but in Blogland we become Lurkers.   Mysterious, secretive. 
I do enjoy gabbing with buddies on their blogs, and I can't say I don't totally appreciate each and every comment that I do get here ... you make me smile every time I hear from you, really you do!  But Lurkers, it's alright.  I do it too.  I'm just glad you're here.  I hope you enjoy yourself.

And since I brought it up, although I'm not usually much of a linker or networker here in Blogland, I decided it's about time I give a polite nod toward some of those entertaining and beautiful blogs that I do visit every so often, but have maybe never had anything clever enough to say while visiting (see the new sidebar links!). 

The Legend of the Fallen Creature on the Beach

We came across this guy on a beach walk and wondered who we was, where he had come from.
Just lying there on his back, with dem teeny tiny little feets in the air.
Little Miss Agatha was pleased to be able to give him a proper dog greeting.
When your nose is only a few inches off the ground, good bottom-sniff-greetings are hard to come by.

He had landed quite peacefully, actually. From the trail of clouds, it looked as if he had been launched somewhere in central Oregon. But where ... and why?

For thousands of years, deep within the thick deep old-growth forests of Oregon where some of the oldest trees on the planet reside, there has lived a tribe of woodland creatures that no human has ever seen. The creatures are shy and secretive, and cherish their quiet life among the giant evergreens. Long before even the first Native American set foot on this continent, they erected a grand statue of Magic Wood - a monument to their society and their home in the ancient forests.
As rumors spread throughout the old-growth forest that a logging operation could be closing in on their pristine and private homeland, they realized they must relocate to a deeper, denser area. But their grand monument - he was much too large to carry with them (the creatures are very small, you see). What would they do? If they left him behind, Evil Loggers would try to cut him with their saws, maybe even burn him with fire, and the secret of the Magic Wood might be revealed. The statue must go as far from Evil Loggers as possible.

Some of the little creatures decided to build a catapult, and thrust their statue into space to live among the stars. But the older, wiser creatures realized that Magic Wood was much too heavy to make it all the way to space, and would fall short; they suggested aiming it toward a land birds had told them of: The Beach. The Beach is a magical place covered in soft sand, which would provide a gentle landing for the statue. And even better, there was a beach north of them that was the longest, straightest sandy beach on the face of the earth. This would be perfect ... a 28-mile runway in which to land.
The creatures gathered in a somber ceremony to bid farewell to their monument. Their world was changing, and all they could hope was that they could find a new little piece of forest in which to live, forever hidden from humans and their destructive ways. They watched as their grand monument launched into the sky, as if on fire - contrail billowing behind him - far, far, away, to land softly in the distant sands of the Long Beach Peninsula.
There he rests peacefully today. As predicted, humans have tried to destroy him with saws,
and with fire,

but he is made of Magic Wood, and he remains solid and constant - a silent monument to the Creatures of the Old Growth Forest.

And Now, for Something Completely Different:

Did you know that bubble wrap just turned 50?     
Yes, I am a known bubble-wrap hoarder and addict.  As a child, it was not uncommon for a new toy to be tossed aside until the "poppy-paper" it had been packed in was satisfactorily flattened, one at a time (I'm sorry but I've never approved off mass-popping by smashing or stepping on the stuff).  To this day, certain close relatives will save it and give it to me as a special treat on holidays, to which I react with uncontrollable excitement and glee.  Yeah, I know.

So I hope you will take a moment from your busy day, from the stress and worry of real life, to celebrate this monumental occasion with me.  Allow yourself to destroy a sheet.  No really, a whole sheet.  Next time, you can pack stuff in some of that other paper or peanuts I'm sure you'll find in the spare room or basment.  It's alright to waste just one to celebratory popping.  It's its birthday.  And you know it will feel good.

Or, if you don't have a piece handy, use this one.

There's One Every Year.

Tomato with a face, that is.

I had wondered in the last month or so if this would be the year - the year there was no face in the garden. A little upsetting, I must admit. But today while wrapping the last few green ones plucked from the icy grips (alright maybe not quite icy yet but wet and miserable for a tomato) of November's rain and hail storms to ripen inside, I finally found him. Quite adorable, I must say. Tomatoes can have the cutest faces.

So now I feel complete somehow; satisfied with the harvest ... and I will be savoring these last few juicy tidbits as they ripen, before cardboard-tomato-season begins again (sigh).

Good Intentions and Plain Old Brown Leaves

I have been particularly enamored with big leaf maples this past year or so.  I'm not sure why now, I've been surrounded by them my whole life here in the Northwest but for some reason last year I went from pleasantly complacent to privately obsessed ... with each subtle change in color from week to week all year round, the variations of color in each tree from top to bottom, the mere size of each leaf. 

I have been especially obsessive this past month, making notes in my head about every change I see and every color I perceive. I've been totally geeking out on this.  So on a little walk last week I decided to gather some to photograph and scan for color inspiration, and eventually draw them.  I meticulously gathered and neatly stacked each leaf, only the most perfect specimens showing the myriad of color variation and pattern, from vibrant lime to fluorescent gold to gorgeous coppery burnt sienna.  Oh boy this would be fun.  How cool was this.  Oh yeah.  I hummed and smiled at myself, I was just so pleased by this plan.  I told you.  Geeking out.  Totally.

I brought the neat and tidy stack of brightly colored leaves into the house and set them down.

And that's usually where this sort of thing ends.  You know how even the best intentions can often dry out, curl up, turn brown, and eventually get dusty. 
I have passed this brown pile of leaves a thousand times this past week and haven't really focused on them.  Today I stopped and smirked at them for a second, thinking they sort of sum up my entire month of October in the same way that this little sketch seemed to sum up this past July. 
That wasn't meant to sound devastating or melodramatic, there was just a lot of stuff going on.

So, usually, this is where I beat myself up gently and move on.  Oops. Missed that chance.  Geez Beth, that was a waste.  Oh well, off to the compost pile, let's get this out of the way.  But then I took a closer look at the brown stack of leaves. 
Wow. 
I mean, I realize that most people on this entire side of the earth are trudging through piles of rotting brown things that look exactly like this, raking and blowing the buggers out of their way ... there is nothing special or different about these dying pieces of plant material I have ignored for a week.
Just some brown leaves. 
That's all. 

 
Only one kept a hint of it's former yellow glory.

 
It might not be what I had intended to document, but  I was (maybe not so surprisingly) still smitten with them, even after the sunny bright splashes of color had faded. 
Nothing wrong with a plain old brown leaf, I guess.

As for good intentions, I suppose even dry, dusty ones can get a second chance to shine.