An 1889 Victorian and The Catalog Model

The housing hunt is over. I (along with Belle, the mastiff-lab, my husband, and my new roommate, the Professor) will soon be living in the most gorgeous little 1889 Victorian.

I could not ask for more. Packing boxes and cleaning closets seem rather insignificant knowing my new residence is everything I could hope for. Surrounded by an enormous lush Oregon garden my summer afternoons shall be spent drawing in the sun and picking strawberries, kiwi, raspberries and grapes. Barbecues shall abound and Belle can run around like a wild monkey.

My anxiety assuaged, I am packing up shop. Treasures abound as chaos ensues. I found this painting recently; it had found itself behind some supplies. She is "The Catalog Model" and was based on a Louis Vuitton advertisement I found in the New York Times.

Thank you to everyone for their well-wishes during my housing crisis and thank you for the great suggestions for sports players prior to 1960. If you think of any more, let me know!~

The Art Nouveau Ketubah

Finally, after three odd years, I sifted through all my wedding photos. Despite a constant conversation with myself about why I chose to wear that particular hairstyle, I love my wedding pictures. Reminding me of joy and insanity, friends and family, the photos serve to highlight that blur of a day. I do not know if I would have remembered Uncle Stu wearing a tuxedo with a clown nose or "Redbeef" (my husband's roommate from college) donning a kelly green suit and matching top hat.

However, while photos jog the memory of a place and time, the Ketubah, or Jewish marriage contract, serves to remind the couple of the emotion felt, the feelings had.

The Art Nouveau inspired Ketubah pictured is just that. An original design painted in gouache, the stylized waves are reminiscent of the bride and groom's time in Santa Cruz, where they met many years ago. Contacting me personally to execute both the text and design, it was a joy to create. The text, Art Nouveau inspired English and Hebrew calligraphy, is their vows: promises to each other to be met over a lifetime.

A Garden of Shoes and The 1960s Psychadelic Mod Fashion Plate

I keep everything. I have broken dishes, an entire couture collection of single shoes, (Belle, my mastiff-laborador, having chewed the other mate--most recently a pair of handmade snakeskin Italian leather pumps that I picked up at a thrift shop in London years ago. Alas.) almost every single piece of correspondence that I have ever received, and boxes upon boxes of clothing.

I have it in my head that someday I will create some sort of art from my history. Most likely these treasures will remain in my attic, sit in my basement and wait to be moved to their next domicile.

My imagination can actually see the beauty I could create. The broken dishes to be made into a Gaudi style backyard bench, the clothing resewn into gorgeous new frocks, and all those poor single shoes? I once saw a famous garden where old purses were bronzed and placed about. I liked the way it looked. Could definitely do the same with the shoes. Especially my old cowboy boots.

This week I went through my art studio looking for inspiration. I always joke that my workshop looks as if it was hit by a natural disaster. People don't quite believe that until they see it. It's quite amazing, actually. Utter chaos. I love it.

So I am sifting through boxes and drawers and find a linoleum block/woodcutting kit bought about ten years prior. Thought I would give it a go. I found that I truly enjoyed carving the blocks with my various Art Deco inspired images, retro fashion plates and an Art Nouveau inspired nature scene as well. And I enjoyed the printing itself. A new found medium.

Pictured is my 1960s Mod Psychadelic Fashion Plate. A limited edition, signed and numbered linocut print, she is available in my Etsy shop.

I Love New York and All That Jazz

As a child I spent the summers in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn visiting my grandmother. In her one bedroom apartment, walking distance from Coney Island, my sister, my grandmother and I would bunk together in the living room. Almost the last stop on the F train, the dishes would rattle and the seventeenth floor shimmy as the nearby subway traveled the one and a half hour distance to and from Manhattan.

New York was the most different place from New Mexico I could conceive of as a child (as an adult as well). But I loved it. Sojourning into the city each day, my father would act as tour guide (as a relocated Bronx boy he claimed ultimate authority on everything New York). Worrying my sister and I would wander off, my dad made us memorize the entire F train route and study city maps.

Thus, I can navigate New York pretty well for a western girl reared on the Rio Grande. Recently vacationing there, I felt at home despite many years absence. A movie I saw in college came to mind. The Cruise, a black and white documentary, celebrated both the city itself as well as a quintessentially New York Gray Line Tour bus guide. In one scene, the guide, with an encyclopedic knowledge of New York culture, recalls literary giants, artists, politicos, criminals and silent movie stars as the bus whirs past their former residences. So much spark within such a small space. The energy is real; the buzz almost tangible.

I love New York. Therefore, you may imagine my excitement at a mention by the New York Public Library in an article entitled "All That Jazz". So thank you New York from a most grateful gal out west.

A Grand Wedding and The Art Deco Ketubah--A Modern Jewish Marriage Contract

The Ketubah, a Jewish marriage contract outlining a couple's commitment to one another, is an honor to create. Given pictures of the groom's grandparents 1940s Art Deco style Ketubah, photos of grand interiors, and cutouts from magazines, I set to work designing a hip, modern take on the Art Deco Ketubah.

Working with the bride to create an homage to her beloved's family yet incorporate the couple's own aesthetic, I set to work painting in gouache the image of the tree and birds as well executing my own unique English and Hebrew alphabets in calligraphy.

The bride sent me the pictures following the wedding. Held at the Ruins in Seattle, it was most certainly an affair to be remembered. My jaw literally dropped; she was so beautiful and the wedding a spectacular gala event, reminiscent of a scene from The Great Gatsby or maybe Grand Hotel. I felt like a movie star myself to be in some way part of such a lovely Art Deco inspired scene.

Permanence and Transience: Cooking vs. Art

My mother is an excellent cook. She can make just about anything from Moroccan tagine to traditional pot roast. And she can cook for the masses, catering my entire wedding, my cousin's wedding and both mine and my sis's Bat Mitzvahs. Absolutely none of this talent was passed on to me. Or maybe it was but never fully realized as I hate to cook.

I like the idea of pleasing my friends, exacting their love and admiration through gastronomy; but I loathe the notion of spending time creating these pleasures. Food is temporary. Hours spent, adding a pinch of this, a spoonful of that, seem wasted on transience.

Please do not get me wrong. I love cooks. I love food. I love home cooking. I am fortunate to reap the benefits of those whose creativity is ignited by food, whom are impassioned by the combination of spices, the grouping of flavors.

My art, however, is born out of a yearning for permanence. I screen print my images so they will last for centuries to come rather than using a computer to lifelessly copy my work. I hand-paint my cards so they are kept; records of a time and place serving as personal histories. The notion that what I create may last lifetimes excites me and serves to motivate.

But a good meal is remembered. I will never forget the calamari in Turkey or the steak in Belgium or my mother's homemade grapeleaves. And that recollection I pass on to others, as I do now. Thus cooking is not momentary, rather the memory intangible.

Thus I present Bouillon Kub (my homage, painted in gouache on wood, to the original bouillon cube packaging in France circa 1920 and, from what I understand, still used today) to all the amazing cooks out there. May your food be forever remembered.

Just Waiting

Much of my time spent as an artist is in waiting. Waiting for the next show, waiting for the customer to call back, waiting for the paint to dry. Just Waiting. And while waiting, beginning other projects that will soon, in turn, be waiting themselves. If patience be a virtue, right now I have virtue in spades.

Currently I have three projects in wait. Two Art Nouveau inspired marriage contracts and an Art Deco style wedding invitation. Both marriage contracts are actually Ketubah (Ketubot in the plural), Jewish legal marriage documents with both English and Hebrew calligraphy denoting the text. One is a simple black and white Art Nouveau inspired assymetrical frame with Hebrew and English written in a simple, yet elegant hand. The second is inspired by the bride's grandparents' Ketubah ca. 1940.

The wedding invitation is in an Art Deco style specifically inspired by the Oviatt Penthouse a Los Angeles Art Deco landmark reminiscent of a F. Scott Fitzgerald novel in beauty and opulence.

The waiting, however, is over for the purchase of my images on iPop magnets. Femme Fatales four pack set and the Fashion Plates four pack set as well as the large La Belle Vie single magnet are all available for retail purchase via the website.

So I sit and wait. Not a bad thing. I sit in the sunshine and work, my art in constant revolution as each project takes a turn in time to become whole.

iPop Magnets and Octavine Illustration

I am most pleased to announce the launch of my new magnet line now available from iPop, a division of Madison Park Greetings. Nine of my Art Deco inspired original images were chosen to be licensed and placed on magnets. Available at museums and fine bookstores the world over, this is my first foray into the international market on a mass scale and I am simply glowing with excitement.

They are available for both wholesale and individual orders through http://www.ipopshop.com.

Months in the making, I received the package with the magnets yesterday and proceeded to jump around the house squealing with delight only to get my dog all in a dither and some funny looks from my neighbors and passersby.

iPop magnets, my designs presented for the first time in the National Stationery Show in New York City last month, come in four packs and singles and are designed by independent artists from all over the United States.

I cannot imagine walking into a random museum or bookshop and seeing my art. I hope this will happen. In the meantime, I sit and stare at my magnets still brimming with happiness.

So Tired (Daydreaming on a Scarlet Sofa)

So titled is this painting. And so titled am I--last week spent painting many new panels; this marketing said paintings. Becoming so engrossed in my work takes an emotional toll only later realized.

My images haunt me--they appear in my dreams, not as people from ages past (haute couture in an Art Nouveau style) but splashes of color I know are mine. They vex me, sitting in wait adjacent to the bedroom (my studio and drafting table are in the "vanity room"--a small Victorian style dressing room with a built-in armoire and dressing table) not having seen the light of day.

I find it peculiar that art should thus exist virtually; a series of code rather than a tangible image when a tangible image does indeed exist. And even more odd, that the audience also be virtual--a set of avatars and comments suited to inspire progress and provide inspiration.

As one who normally eschews technology, I could not be more grateful for it right now.

I shall post each new painting over the course of the next month and will execute many more. They are all painted in gouache (a water-based paint similar to watercolor but with more pigment producing a bolder, matte tone) on Plywerk (a handcrafted wood panel made in Portland, Oregon and using environmentally sustainable practices), ready to hang and available exclusively through my Etsy shop.

Queen of the Surface Streets

I spent the past week in decadence celebrating my beloved's birthday. One night spent swaying to the gyspy rhythms of Devotchka, the next dancing to the indie jams of Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks provided a much needed rock out.

Dinner at Le Pigeon, their chef voted by Food and Wine magazine as the top chef of 2007 capped the week off perfectly.

Interspersed therein was First Thursday, Portland's swanky art walk, skate show, and street party replete with large groups of revelers congregating in an open appreciation of culture and art.

I painted the above following the Devotchka concert. My favorite tune of theirs, Queen of the Surface Streets,

(I'll give my days to the Neanderthals
With the classic rock
And the wrecking ball
I'll go swimming in the wet concrete
And I'll cast my pearls at the unpaved streets),

inspired her, Art Deco style.

This Old House

I was born and raised in the beautiful state of New Mexico. Hailing from this "Land of Enchantment," I believe, creates part of my need for space and time. I deplore the notion of being caged in by my surroundings; and the open sky and few people, endless desert and cowboy mentality allow me to breathe freely, openly and privately.

Everything is old in New Mexico. Not like in Portland where everyone lives in a Victorian, but rather old as in "old as dirt," literally. Many homes are built of mud and straw and many date back three hundred years and more.

The image pictured, done in the style of a 1940s postcard, is a piece commissioned by one of the members of a Boston knitting group that was screen-printed onto Eco-totes for use as knitting bags.

The retreat was held at her family home in Tularosa, New Mexico. This southern New Mexico home was an actual military fort used by the Spanish and has served as the family's private residence for three generations.

Listed on the National Historic Register, this centuries old adobe is essentially a fortress with walls three feet deep and window slats used to aim rifles through. The illustration pictured is based on this historical and architectural gem and is my first foray into architectural rendering, Art Deco style.

My First Album Cover Part II

First approached by Brian of Jive White Boy (don't let the name throw you) through my myspace page to illustrate his debut album, I held zero reservations as this has always been a dream of mine.

Part Eliott Smith, part Leonard Cohen, this local Portland singer songwriter's music is darkly folky, sweetly biting. A fan of Art Deco and Art Nouveau style, he felt my illustrations lended a classic yet slightly sinister quality to his indie rock musings.

The inspiration came from listening to his songs on repeat whilst sketching. The 1920s Jazz Age style image seemed an appropriate one and was also reminiscent of Brian himself. The CD should be available sometime this summer, hopefully in a wide release (or at least it may be purchased globally through the internet; I will provide a link on this site when it is released).



















I am most proud to present this illustration as well as the back cover song list (all fonts wrought completely by hand in the Art Nouveau style of the early 1900s and of my own alphabet, of course) as it has been long in the making. I can't wait to see it on the CD itself. A dream come true. Thank you so much, Jive White Boy.

Venus in Spring

Today my tulips bloomed and I finished a painting inspired by said tulips. Entitled, "Venus in Spring," it is one of a series that I am currently at work on. In addition to a full-size painting, each image is burned onto a screen to print from. The canvas is a Moleskine notebook, favorite of DaVinci and Hemingway. Each notebook is screen-printed with one of my Art Deco inspired illustrations (Grandpa Charlie and Venus among them) and then hand-painted. They are for purchase in my Etsy shop.

Last weekend friends visited from Williams, Oregon, a very small town in the Rogue Valley (a most romantic name for a locale). Living in the country they see little of civilization, thus the opportunity to shop at the garage sale going on across the street was of immense excitement. Filling two cars full with garage sale wares, they made their way home. I picked up a stash of 1980s movies and spent the day painting Moleskines whilst conducting my own personal Christian Slater marathon.

Unlike many artists, I usually do not listen to music whilst at work. Rather I have a little television and VCR in my studio and I listen to movies. The dialogue allows me to focus whereas music zones me out. Funny where inspiration lies.

Thus, four new Moleskine designs and nine new paintings are almost finished. I'm not sure if the '80s movies rubbed off as my usual fare are black and whites, Hitchcock or James Bond (the action keeps me moving quickly), but needless to say I most assuredly enjoyed myself (Mr. Slater in Pump Up the Volume makes me swoon. Sigh.).

A 1930s Gentleman and The Birthdays

I never knew my Grandpa Charlie. A tailor in the garment district of New York City's Lower East Side, he died two weeks before my little sister was born. She was named Caroline in honor of him.

My grandfather exists in my mind through Grandma Minnie's wedding pictures--quite the 1930s gentleman with a flair for fashion, a confident gait and a sly look.

Delivered in the hospital on my third birthday (yes, we are exactly three years apart), Caroline's birth is my first memory.

Aware it was my birthday and the importance of having one as well as the fringe benefits associated, one can imagine my devastation at the conspicuous absence of both my parents. Rather, my great Aunt Octavine celebrated with me. I received first a Fisher Price record player, and then a baby sister.

Forced to then share all birthdays following, every year "our" birthday celebration included all the neighborhood children. With the Fisher Price record player in tow, we endlessly played musical chairs outside. My mother dressed us in matching Victorian style dresses in differing colors and put our hair in ringlets. Great Aunt Octavine made a cherry cake (white cake with maraschino cherries in the batter and pink icing and maraschino cherries on top) and we would blow out the candles...together.

Most of the presents consisted of Barbie and Tracy (Barbie with brown hair--a favorite among us brunettes) dolls. My mother, not thrilled with the whole Barbie idea, only let us keep one each. My father then stashed the rest. To this day, hidden in the depths of some closet lie various late 1970s and early 1980s Barbie and Tracy dolls, still in their original packaging.

My sister and I are very close and live only minutes away from one another albeit not in our hometown. We still celebrate "our" birthday ever year together and sometimes even wear matching outfits. I think Grandpa Charlie would laugh.

Disco, My Mother and The Brazilian Stacked Heel

I love fashion. And I love shoes. When I was little my mother had a pair of Brazilian stacked heels. It was the 1970s and they were black suede with a cutout toe. I used to play dress up in them. They were so beautiful.

But my mother is not a packrat. She does not carry that gene which forces one to keep everything out of sentimentality or a need to hoard.

As a small child, I vividly remember finding garbage bags destined for Goodwill containing her wedding dress (a red velvet mini later worn to my Junior Prom), various early 1970s formals and innumerable pairs of high heels. Apparently she no longer had a need for such things as a mother of two in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Salvaging what I could in the back of the car en route to the donation center, I managed to save much of the lot. But the shoes were lost; destined to exist only in my memory.

So I present to you my mother's Brazilian stacked heel disco shoes (now in red), a beret (from my great Aunt Octavine) and a Diane von Furstenberg wrap-around dress I remember my mother wearing when we went out somewhere fancy.
My tribute to fashion through my childhood self.

The Art Nouveau Wine Label

A year and a half ago I was approached by two wonderful young wine makers whom recently relocated from New York City to Walla Walla, Washington. Following their libatious dreams westward, they bought a large acreage, two German Shepherd puppies, and started their own winery. Fans of Art Nouveau style, the vinters approached me to illustrate the label and work together to design a concept for the winery itself.

Located on the North Fork of the Walla Walla River in the foothills of the Blue Mountains, Stella Fino winery pays homage to its Italian roots through both its namesake and old-world Italian wines similar to those found in Montalcino, Italy.

Pictured is my illustration of Stella Fino as she appeared in New York City in the 1920s. The proprietor's great grandmother, she arrived in the United States through Ellis Island in the early 1900s from Italy.

Perhaps my favorite commission piece thus far, I only last week saw the bottle for the first time. You can't tell in the photo, but all of the lettering and the image are raised. In addition, I also painted a 3' x 2' enormous painting of Stella to be framed and hung at the winery. Already reviewed by the San Francisco Chronicle, I think this amazing wine is on its way to greatness. I feel most honored to be a part of it all.

The Sunbathers

February in Portland means heat wave parties. Donning your bikini, flip-flops and sunglasses in the middle of winter is only an activity those absolutely starved for Vitamin D will do.

Last night I attended one such party. My wonderful friend Neal turned the heat up to 85 degrees, queued up various surf themed LPs, and mixed pina coladas. February in Portland was never so tropical.

Pictured are The Sunbathers. I proclaim to be an avid sun-worshipper and have spent many a hot summer's day cooking myself to a nice golden crisp. I drew this picture in honor of us leather-chesters. Seeking to capture that perfect sense of gluttonous behavior, note the slight snarl on their beautiful faces. Thus I present
Hedonism and Vanity: the sunbathers.

A Design Revolution

Last night I had the occasion to attend Design Sponge's Biz Lady Meeting. A workshop held by the wildy popular blog, Design Sponge, as local design success Amy Ruppel as well as a Portland independent woman business owner, a Mercy Corps representative and the founder of Design Sponge herself gave over precious marketing, business planning and PR advice.

As Portland is a hot-bed for indie designers from illustration to fashion to jewelry and everything in between, it was the largest event that the New York-based Design Sponge ever held. There's an design revolution a brewing here, I'm telling you.

For many of us artistic ladies, solitude is the norm. The opportunity to meet others in similar fields and discuss ourselves, our business, our concerns and our future is invaluable.

Thus, I dedicate this painting to Design Sponge. It is entitled Demeter, Goddess of Fertility.

Beauty, Art and Therapy

My friend Dani is an art therapist. When looking at my work she always analyzes me, rather than my art. She pointedly asks, "What were you thinking when you drew this?" Or, "How does this image make you feel." I simply chuckle at her, smile and ignore telling her to stop shrinking my brain.

Her comment on this piece includes the psycho-babble that I love her for: "This is really a significant piece. I love the tension between the green and the diagonal red and wine colors. This piece must have come from deep in your subconscious..."

To be honest, I have no idea where my inspiration is derived from. Most of the time, I find a model--a photograph, magazine clipping or even a poem and start from there; my creativity a force unto itself.

The Feminine Mystique

My images are primarily based on haute couture fashion portraits from ages past. I would love to have beautiful women posing for me in high fashion, but this is just not the case. Thus I settle for the glamour shots of Edward Steichen and other 1920s and 1930s photographers from which to derive my inspiration.

I sit with a photograph I fancy for hours. Studying the curves of the body, the lines of the dress and the expression of the model ignite a creative spark within. I begin to draw. I may alter her nose, fill in her lips, add a dress bow, change her hairstyle in order give her a bit of a modern sensibility and make her my own. Then I paint. Using gouache, I first see the painting in my mind's eye. I must have a complete visualization before I can paint. I mix the colors using whatever subconscious force brought me there to begin with.

Painting quickly so the gouache dries evenly, the most time-consuming process is the thinking, the visualization. The actualization is rather hurried as I have learned over the years not to over think; to use that inner-drive that forces my creativity.

This painting was executed as part of a series of wine labels for Stella Fino Winery in Walla Walla, Washington.