Our Projects

Looking at our pictures from our little family getaway with Jessica, our doula, (yeah, now we call her our life doula. ) I noticed that we all have projects we work on for fun. It's how we roll.
Even in the woods, you bet Paul has fun making mighty fine coffee.

Ezra and Gibbie did a very involved work involving corn cobs and fire. The hay meadow was planted, I think, to field corn last year, but it never dried out well so it was left on the stalks and little animals grabbed them and now the cobs are strewed all over the woods. They took these and charred them in the fire, and then Gibbie brought them to Ezra who had a station for scraping them. It was all very systematic and satisfying.
Empty pop cans became ammunition. Ezra hoarding cans. It was quite a battle.
They made torches. Sticks with dried leaves tied on with grasses. They really worked, though more smoke than light.
I like to make flower crowns.
Scouts tending the fires.

Don't tell me nursing isn't a project. I know better. This little one is still in the making.

Bill Watterson on Selling out

Bill Watterson, an artist who wouldn't merchandise his work despite heavy pressure and substantial enticements, and fought hard for having a real life:

"Selling out is usually more a matter of buying in. Sell out, and you're really buying into someone else's system of values, rules and rewards. The so-called "opportunity" I faced would have meant giving up my individual voice for that of a money-grubbing corporation. It would have meant my purpose in writing was to sell things, not say things. My pride in craft would be sacrificed to the efficiency of mass production and the work of assistants. Authorship would become committee decision. Creativity would become work for pay. Art would turn into commerce. In short, money was supposed to supply all the meaning I'd need. What the syndicate wanted to do, in other words, was turn my comic strip into everything calculated, empty and robotic that I hated about my old job. They would turn my characters into television hucksters and T-shirt sloganeers and deprive me of characters that actually expressed my own thoughts."

The above, quoted by Nevin Martell in his unauthorized biography of Bill Watterson, Looking for Calvin and Hobbes. I almost included two paragraphs of rather pointed analysis of said book but Upon Reflection, I'm not sure those thoughts are worth airing. I'll just say, "Hear, hear!" to Watterson's words.

Ezra's Sunshine Quilt

I made a quilt for Gibbie when he was small, and have been intending to make one for Ezra ever since. Gibbie's is rather a Valentine's quilt, in reds with lots of velvet and corduroy and flanneliness. Ezra, of course, needed something different. I believe the first time we took Gibbs to church, he was wrapped in his quilt, as it was winter and none of his limbs would stay in their places in a snowsuit yet-- Ezra's, being just finished now, obviously was not in use as a baby quilt, but has been fun in a different way because he can be a part of it.
Ezra's quilt is sunny. I remember sitting all day in my nursing couch with this one when he was yet tiny--my August baby, and just thinking how sunny and joyous all was. He has often chosen bright sunny colors. In fact, I often look to his drawings for color inspiration; he picks loud but harmonious combinations I wouldn't think of.
We went to the fabric store together, and looked at fabric. There was also a lot of searching in the piles of old clothing and linens. My neighbor Wendy gave us the backing fabric, which had been a crib sheet, and was nicely softened. I embroidered all the borders between squares. That was fun. Embroidery is one of my favorite crafts, and I don't do it very often. Partly, I just like looking at and using my amazing embroidery floss box, which I started way back in junior high or high school, when I did a rash of crazy quilting. (still working on that quilt too!)I have these lovely blue birds from an old garment my friend Maggie gave me. They have been waiting for homes. Two flew onto Ezra's quilt, where he wanted them, in the middle of the back. One alighted on Gibbie's quilt. Another reason I like quilting is that we can always add on later. Working on this has given me all kinds of ideas--how fun and easy to add pictures, or sew on special things, or stitch in a little poem or song.
For batting, I used an old lambswool sweater that was beyond repurposing. I think this will be warm. It is not bulky at all. The binding is inspired by those blankets that were always on the bed at Gramma Loretta's house, with the silken edges--so nice to rub as you fall asleep.

A good small quilt remains good. It can always be used along with bigger blankets to stay warm in bed. It can go on laps to watch movies even for teenagers or grownups. Kids use them to lie on the floor, or build forts on the couch, or any number of other things. And the more loved they are, the more reason to keep growing them, with new patches and pictures! Plus, they're good for you, with all that love stitched into them!

Kid's Blogs

Drawings, photos, coloring pages, and real life photo journalism by the children of The Full Cup!
Gibbie's work can be seen at Gibbie'sPhotos.

And original work by Ezra may now be viewed at Ezra's Picture Pages!
Artwork is chosen by the kids, with text dictated by them also.

Collaborative Art with a Child

This piece was a collaboration between Gibbie and I. I was working on a small piece Paul's mom commissioned, and Gibbie was so enamoured of it he wanted me to make a copy for him. I said I wondered if he wouldn't rather choose a favorite animal, and that launched this simple project.He drew the landscape and the sky, and told me which animals to put and where they should go. He brought his stuffed animals as drawing models and set them up for me on the dining room table. I drew the animals and painted in the colors, with consultation and discussion about the Antarctic. This is a painting of the time of year when it is dark all the time--we don't really know what that looks like, so we surmised, and we will learn more about it later.

We talked about painting snow. At first, Gibbie said it was white, and wanted me to use white paint. I suggested he look out the window at our snow heap and asked how he can see the shapes in the snow. He decided that there are blueish parts, so we put those in.

For the sky, I just used a watercolor wash, sprinkled with table salt . We both signed it. The most challenging part of this painting for me was keeping my admirers from sliding the tablecloth off the table and bumping my arms in their excitement while I worked.

I love working together with my kids! We will both treasure this painting.

Urban Owls in the Woods

I have discovered a Wonder not far from our house. There is a beautiful park, Reservoir Woods, just up the road from us. No one talks about this place, and I had never heard of it until last summer, but it is so lovely! There are wetlands, buggy lowlands, butternut woods with currants, a sunny vineyard of sumac, and lovely tall piney woods.
It is in the piney woods that we have seen owls. Or rather, an owl. I don't know if two owls would ever sit together like that--it is a fanciful rendering for a nursery wall. I think I could have been more realistic if it weren't the dead of winter--so this picture shows all the gaps in my memory of one of my favorite forests. I did try to show the forest floor, sparse of plants, and covered with a thick mat of orangey needles. A fallen log with that bright orange fungus spotting it. Sunny greenness and sky showing farther away. I wish I could depict the feeling of depth in these white pine stands. The trees are so tall, and the woods adopt a stillness. It is like a chapel.

I first saw the owl high in the trees, far off, with that distinct shape. I have seen him close up too--covered in fluffy grey feathers, as wide as my car when his wings were spread, silent as the woods when flying, even from very close. It was a gift, one that I treasure. I do hope this owl
has little ones to nurture in the spring?

Gifts of living Unexpected and Unearned

It's been so fun watching Paul reopen his darkroom and dust off the cameras. We've been going on dates and both bringing the tools of our art, my paints and paper, his camera and film. I've enjoyed the togetherness, working on things, making images in good company. We've also been discussing our surprise at seeing one another's growth as artists, considering our long hiatus from working on our art. I think though our technical skills have stalled--and we pick them up where we left off, or with a little catching up to get back to where we were--the other parts our ourselves have continued to grow, even when we weren't making much art. Our eyes, the way we look at and process what we see, grow of their own accord. We pick up our tools and are amazed to find we have new resources at our disposal!

A Vat of Indigo

This picture shows a scene from our backyard several nights last week. I am swishing fabric in my indigo vat. Newly dyed cloths and shirts hang on the clothesline. Gibbie is making a giant mudpuddle out of his digging hole. Ezra is in the hammock hanging from the clothesline. His foot is sticking out.Indigo was easier than I expected and super gratifying. The color is rich. My indigo I got in a kit at my fabulous local art store, Wet Paint. I dyed cotton and linen, including t-shirts for Ezra's birthday, as well as clothes of mine that were formerly white. White clothes and I don't get along very well, as they soon become no longer white. I also dyed plain fabric that I have an array of plans for. The colors turned out strikingly vibrant! Rich, lovely blues. We will see how they wear--I am expecting a gradual fade as with blue jeans. Next time I do this, I would like to make it an event, as the vat can dye so much fabric, and have others join in.

Mmmmouse Museum

At a coffee shop we like to go to, there was a tiny little display called "Mouse Museum".
Little folded pieces of cardstock displaying tiny paintings. As you can see in the photo, the mouse museum was patronized by cattoy mice.
Ezra had endless fun picking them up and rearranging them.




This would be such an easy little toy-game-art-project to make with things around the house.

What to do with Dried up Markers?

Just discovered something fun.
Now, as a rule, we try not to throw anything away. If it can be used, or fixed, or used for something else, I keep it. This often leads to...piles.
But anyway, one thing I generally just toss (when the boys aren't looking--Gibbie, like me and my father before me, will take anything he deems useful right out of the trash) is markers without caps. We have an abundance of markers, and once the cap is gone, even if we may find the cap a few hours or days later, the marker is a goner. It was a pet peeve of mine as a kid, going through the marker box, looking for a good marker of a certain color, and keeping finding dried-up markers, or mashed tips. I remember coloring layers on layers, trying to get a good look, from a dry marker that just didn't have the juice anymore. It occurred to me years later, that I might as well just throw away a dry marker as soon as I find it, as no one will ever want to color with it, and there is really no fixing it.
Well, this morning I found one good use for a dry marker! When watercoloring, as the child's interest in painting begins to wane, hand her a dried-up, capless marker! The moisture on her paper wicks pigment out of the-otherwise infuriating marker. Depending on how wet the paper is, it may also bleed in cool patterns. Fun is had by all.
Now throw away the marker.
**Okay, read the great ideas in the comments!**

Tribute to Zil, Inside tour of the Artist's Box

Sorry, that last post was just too complainey. So on a more positive note; I am so thankful for good friends. I have one friend who has had Mastitis way way more times than me, and her help has been invaluable this week! (not pictured)
I believe that when we meet someone with whom we are like-minded, with whom we can share our heart, and with whom we communicate well, we have to hang on to these kindred spirits. Many of you know how hard long-distance, heck, even short distance correspondence is for us! My brother once said that calling our house is like calling a black hole. Well, I'm rubber and you're glue, Robert!Anyway, this is Me and Liz and Paul. This is a fourteen-or-so-year friendship. (nineteen years if you count the ones Paul's been in on it, but that's not really fair.) I used to call her "Zil", after a funny trip where everyone briefly got called their backwards name, and I kept it up with Zil. We once made her watch a Will Farrell movie with us, to her loud protestations to the store clerk and to us all the way home that she hated said actor, and everything he was ever in. Well, I think she watched that flick about three more times before returning it, and her speech has been peppered with quotations from it ever since.
Duude, we miss her!
She has a master's degree. In Science.
Just kidding. She's a real live doctor. Of medicine. Wait, no-- of Osteopathy. I know what you're thinking. But she's not a quack. Osteopaths are even better than real doctors, and often even help people get better! Seriously. She's got healing in her hands. (Liz would be gasping and whacking me now, if she weren't in Arizona)
Okay, enough squirreliness. As Gibbie says, "Back to work now, back to work." (that's a quote from Birthday Bear in The Witch Down the Street. not the best writing, but really cute bears!)
Anyway, I just want to show y'all one of my own little pleasures in life: my art box. It's just a lil cigar box, filled with my essential art supplies. I take it with me whenever I might need a bit of art, anywhere, in a pinch, you know. Actually, with what's in this box, I can make almost anything two-dimensional I want. It's light, packable, durable, protects my supplies, and as beautiful as useful. Plus, it took no work to make!
My art box contains:
-Ink: walnut, my fave.
-Pen holder: that's the handle for the pen you dip in the ink. cheap, plastic, black, elegant.
-Erasers: kneadable, regular. I never use these.
-Pencil sharpener. I've just switched to a new one. My old ones bit it and it's tedious and messy to use a knife. Did you know there are cheap sharpeners with replaceable blades?
-Lead pencils. Okay, graphite. Okay, I don't even know that, you stickler! HB, 2B, whatever.
-lil ruler (six inch, wooden, metal edge. vintage!)
-X-acto knife. I like things that start with X-
-extra (X-tra) blades, and safe dispenser
-stoneware bowl for ink. I like to work out of a little well, to minimize the impact, and the loss incurred by spilling. I spill lots and I'm just dealing with that.
-nibs. These are the metal points that make the line with a dip-pen. My new favorites are at Wet Paint. They're the Japanese ones behind the counter, and they're like a thousand times better than any other nib ever. Seriously.
-a bamboo pen. for ink with thicker lines
-a wooden tool meant for throwing pots on a wheel, that I use as a paper folder. Actually, I never use it. I should trade it for my bone folder.
-a tiny chamois useful for blending, especially with charcoal
-a rag. for blotting ink
-watercolor pencils. I just love my Faber Castell Aquarelles. I use them for everything and they are fabulous. I adore how they work in conjunction with my Walnut ink. I have a big set, but mostly use about 6 colors, so I put them in my Art Box.
-a vintage eraser/brush tool. The eraser is a wheel with a brush attached. I use it exclusively for brushing dust or eraser dust off of work. It's from my late great-grandmother Daisy's paint box, and erasers that old oughtn't to be used.

Isn't that amazing? The whole thing is maybe 5x7", all told. I holds way more in it than I need, and I love it so.

Conservatory and Photography

We went to the conservatory at Como park in St. Paul. It's a great "outdoor" indoor place to go on a winter day - full of light, warmth and humidity. As we walked in we were met by several young men with sketchbooks. An art class was having a field trip. The conservatory is quite the usual spot for artists and photographers. I have to admit that I've displayed a couple of photos I've taken there myself. After having sold some prints recently, I've felt encouraged to do real photography again. To me real photography involves film and chemistry and has at least as much to do with the forming of the print in the darkroom as it does snapping the shutter. I understand that some do digital as art; I'm just not one of them! I don't know and enjoy the digital process like I know and enjoy the chemical process. I mentioned in a post last spring that I think of digital photography as a kind of sketching. I can compose the image and capture it without going through the finishing process of development and printing that would make it a final print. It's a practice in seeing, more than anything.

The above is a small example. It's a kind of photography that I see in a lot in coffee shops, am very tempted by, but mostly avoid. The photographer's eye is attracted to beauty. Sometimes that beauty comes in the form of someone else's art and it's very tempting to photograph that art and make it into your own art. In a way there's nothing wrong with that. The photographed art is composed and executed in a way that is unique to the photographer and becomes it's own thing. It still feels like kind of a cop out to me, though. I don't think I would display something like this picture, but it was fun to "sketch."

These fish were the boy's favorite feature of the conservatory this time around. I had a hard time keeping Ezra from licking the rocks. They must have tasted good. Salty, maybe?

Brush Painting

This is a brush calligraphy set given to me by my dear chum Emily once upon a time. She brought it back with her from China. Thank you, Emily. It is really a wonderful little thing. Inside this lovely, silk-covered box, is a complete set for brush and ink work.
Gibbie is learning to do it too. His first job is to take each component out of the box, and set them up around his pad of paper. I fill the tiny water bowl with water. He uses the delicate spoon to move the water into the stone basin where it will be made into ink. Then we take the stick of compressed pigment, and grind it on the stone until we have a good amount of nice, black ink.There is a special porcelain stand upon which to rest the brushes, and places in the case for each brush. One brush has been designated as Gibbie's. I've noticed the most difficult thing for small children in painting is not destroying brushes. He's working hard on this, but still, just in case... I love this painting set because it is self contained (here we are using it at a local coffee shop) and very high quality, and getting to take out all the parts and mix the ink ourselves is an enjoyable part of the process rather than a chore.

I learned a lot more about Chinese calligraphy, and painting when I studied it in college. Enough to feel almost unworthy of taking a brush in my hand!

Oh, and the best part is the little chop, the stone carved stamp with which the artist marks her work. Emily tells me that mine is carved with the phonetic syllables of my name. Pressing the chop into the greasy red inkpot and making that clear, bright red square on his white paper is the best part.

Bookbinding, Garage sale season

These are the drawing tools I reach for again and again. Walnut ink can be homemade through a simple process, though this is store-bought. Of course, Gibbie loves to use them too! I get mine at Wet Paint, my favorite art store. It's five bucks and comes in a palm-sized Nalgene bottle, pictured above. I like this, as I can be confident it won't spill if I chuck it in my backpack. (A gift to a friend including a glass bottle of ink once broke on her as she opened it on a plane. Sorry, Emily! A thousand apologies.)

Walnut ink is a joy to work with. It makes a sumptuous rich brown and is water soluble, so it combines beautifully with watercolors or watercolor pencils. I use a plain cheap pen holder with a bowl tip nib, as shown above. This is one of the only nibs I like to work with. It makes a fluid line, varies nicely between thick and thin, and letters without scratching. Sometimes I use another nib when I need a really fine script, as in my book, The Nightingale and the Rose. Even then, the bowl tip is the only one I really like. It may be because I am left-handed, but everything else catches and writes all scratchy.I'm calling this my Book of Days. It's a coptic binding. See? I sewed each pamphlet together at each juncture along the spine. There are twelve sections, one for each month. There is a pocket and a fold-out calendar in each section. I've just begun to illustrate them, using my trusty dip pen.
Resource-wise, I made the covers from bookboard I took from an old journal headed to the recycling pile, covered them with cloth leftover from books I bound in college, and the pages are surplus paper from our wedding invitations. Man, I use this heavy cream paper for everything!

Making books is satisfying. I've been toying with the idea of teaching bookbinding at next year's Creative Arts Festival at Clearwater Forest. Yeah--we'll see.

We will record birthdays, garden harvests, seasonal activities, and family traditions for each month, not as a scrapbook, but as a growing reference for future years. As I learn more of gardening and wild foods, I have trouble getting it all straight in my head. It would help me so much if I had been able to anticipate a month ago that right about this time I would want to be canning lots of applesauce and tomatoes this week.
I'm excited about this little tool tailored specially to our life, here in this place, with our own rhythms and history worked right into it to help me keep up with these days that rush so quickly by.

Speaking of seasonal activities, is it ever the time for garage sales! They're all over the place! This is one of the first notes to go in my Book of Days: September: watch for garage sales!
Lots of people move this time of year, so the thrift stores are full of new stuff every week, there're garage sales on every block, and alleys are full of unblemished furniture heading to the landfills*. I want to plan for this kind of stuff, rather than buying new when it's not necessary. Hmm... thinking ahead to what we'll need in the coming year. Actually, not much. Enjoy this lovely weather as you go saleing** this week!

*What? You never take stuff that people set out for trash? Ok, I melted with embarrasment at the mere mention of Dad doing this when I was younger, but come on; I got over it. Now I just think of Grandma Fern saying, "waste not, want not." We don't waste, if we can help it, and to our great thankfulness, we don't want.

**"Saleing" was what our sweet friend Ingrid called going to thrift, yard, or garage sales. As in, "I think I'll go saleing this afternoon. Wanna come along?"

Hope in God alone

I'm not entirely sure why, but I've been having a difficult week emotionally. I've been clinging to Psalm 62, especially this:
In God alone there is rest for my soul,
from him comes my safety;
with him alone for my rock, my safety,
my fortress, I can never fall.

At times I am so worried and anxious, driven by the need for approval. (I know, it doesn't always show.) But in God, my soul finds rest. He always loves. I may fail in everything, but in him, I am safe, even from my own failure.

In God, I find shelter; rely on him,
people, at all times;
unburden your hearts to him,
God is a shelter for us.

This is so true! I have found shelter from this heat, from my own fear. I love the picture of intimacy with god, "unburden your hearts to him." When other relationships are shaky, sour, or pressed, I can pour my heart out always to this love.

God has spoken once,
twice I have heard this;
it is for God to be strong,
for you, Lord, to be loving;
and you yourself repay
as my works deserve.

(Repayment as my works deserve is a whole 'nother conversation. ask me sometime if you don't know.)
In the middle of this stanza I always think it will say, "it is for you God to be strong, for you to be just," I don't know why I always expect that, but always am in wonderment to fine that God is strong, God is loving. Ahhh.

That is the way it is, and the next psalm, 63, says it so well. With God I find ever-increasing desire and ever-increasing fulfillment, like good love. I set my heart anywhere else, and find increasing desire and diminishing satisfaction, like an addiction.

We've been arty around here lately. I'm working on a little last-minute illustration project. (it's coming Abby!) I had been putting it off and as I started the drawings found to my surprise that I actually like art. No less, I'm good at it. Ha. A nice thing to rediscover.

These pics are from when our dear friend Liz (Dr. Fleming, that is) visited earlier in the summer.
Here Gibbie is watercolouring. This week he had his first try with the bamboo pen and walnut ink. His beautiful drawings are up on our front door if you want to take a look!