fickle hearted francis

remember this? well. i have a confession to make. i’m a room changer. a constant room changer. ask my regular house guests. they will tell you. ask my mother, she will tell you.

as soon as my adolescent muscles developed i began my adventure in change. i got such a thrill from the whole process. the cleaning. the rearranging. and then the excitement of a new room. i remember dragging all my furniture and stuffed animals out into the hallway of my childhood home and sweeping the floor. i felt like cinderella, in a good way.

nick has been a good sport about it all these years. slowly my furniture has gotten heavier and my muscles can’t keep up. so he has been there to help. no matter what time of day or night. thanks cute boy!

 and so, without further adieu, here is our new look. we’ll call it: making lemonade out of one very tiny apartment.

same theme as last time. everything is used. the new to me sofa was a $80 craigslist find. it weighs about a gazillion lbs! all the tables, rugs, ottoman, and lamps were free. literally. giveaways.

i will never again alphabetize my books. rainbowtizing is just so much more fun.

one of many art clusters. this is my fav.

so that’s my free living room. always changing. and always perfectly us.

light my fire

i am a history nut. i love all things old and wise and full of stories. i prefer vintage to new, used to working, cracked and stained to pristine. (i only wish i felt this way about my face, speeding towards thirty).

i watch ‘history dectectives’ on pbs.com and my favorite film genre is old war. i have been like this since, forever. i remember being weston’s age and consuming one american girl book after another, so long as the time period was new to me.

i absolutely lit up when i saw this project over on poppytalk. i am willing to get lost over and over in these faces. inventing lifetimes, children, nuisances, affairs and bottoms. who says this lady isn’t wearing chaps and spurs?

 or that these guys are NOT wearing levi’s and chucks.

or that she doesn’t have her feet rooted strongly somewhere.

if you are in portland, check it out. if not view the work from afar. it’s so worth your imaginative time.

show!

we came back in one piece. it was an awesome first show. small and easy, a perfect start to what we hope is an ongoing thing. i haven’t uploaded the pics yet so you’ll get two posts on the subject.

i like lists. so today, i’m working that way.

*first, and most importantly i want to thank three people who graciously gave their time to make saturday happen for us. really. selflessness. heidi, jackie and keith. thank  you guys. thank you. thank you.

* face currency. i love it. i felt like i left so rich in face currency. smiles, chuckles (apparently people get the humor of barnaby and peanuckle), little lit up eyes, fingers pointing with smiles. it’s all worth a million bucks people.

* sold items say a lot. we each sold more of one particular print. and we learn from that.

*compliments are sometimes disguised. like “you are really out there” can mean, ” i really dig your style, it’s fresh and approachable”. if you want it to.

*artists support artists. it will always have to work that way. especially in the midst of depression like eras.

*and so, i went home with the most awe inspiring print from rob hemphill. quiet, unpretentious, uber talented rob. keep your eye on this kid. you heard it from me.

*and our booth neighbors, keath sodapop, his two interns (?), his lovely wife and little girl arianna (so cute! i thought she was going to lick barnaby). his street style totally transcended into canvas work, seamlessly. super impressed. at the end of the day he presented us with two really rocking little originals, and we gave him a creamsicle print for his popsicle loving kid.

*so we made money, had fun, felt good about our art, and met really wickedly talented artists. i’d say it was a total success.

goodness. gracious..

tomorrow we leave at 5 a.m. for our first art show. it’s a madhouse here. a jungle. mountains of art. looks like creative journey. mapped out on my living room floor. pure loveliness.

have a good weekend loves! here a peek at my newest.. 

a giveaway is happening!

on my dear, dear mati’s blog. its a good one peeps! hurry. now. go get yourself signed up. it ends friday.

sibling*love

this is a proclamation of my love for all things brother&sisterly. between the two of us we have five sisters and one brother. and lots of stories of who slept in the basement by the scary crawl-space and who chased who with utensils. there really is nothing like a sibling. {insert montage song now}

lindsay & gavin

 

emma

 

and jenny can fit her whole fist in there!

lindsay, the grinning doll on top, is in town from montana and we are just overcome with adoration of her, her kids and her dog. i’m thinking we should start a compound and raise a litter of kiddos together. start a farm. i would even learn to play the banjo. just for them. so they could tell me to stop.

who else has a sibling they adore?

yeah, that’s my face

can you imagine the look on a crazy lady’s face if she just filled her mansion with dynamite and lit the fuse. it’s similar to the look you have after you just drank yourself silly and you are jumping on your bed, knowing that the hangover is gonna suck, but the boing is fantastic. which is not unlike the look of the teenager who just had a shopping spree on dad’s credit card and the loot out weighs the punishment.

yeah. you got the face now. that’s my face.

 it’s the face of a girl who decided she could literally do everything. everything! bring it all on. throw it on my back. sure. yes. i can h.a.n.d.l.e. that! i can live on nothing and have it all. i’m sure of it.

 sometimes my smile twitches. my knees wobble a bit under the weight. my eyes are a bit panicky.

i just can’t decide which consequence i’ll have. will my mansion explode? will i wake with a wicked headache? or will i have to return all my purchases?

or..maybe. just maybe.  i’ll be the idiot who lit the fuse wrong, drank the virgin punch instead and forgot to sign the credit card receipt.

we can hope right?

p.s. i’m letting the words back in. and now i bet you miss the pictures. funny people you are.

8:00 am

it’s monday morning. which means inevitably something will shock me into reality from my weekend haze.

8:00 a.m.- a knock on my apartment door. it’s a woman  in her fifties that lives in an adjacent building. i’ve helped her out before, a cup of coffee or what not. actually, i am drinking out of a mason jar right now because this women failed to return my favorite mug.

weston opened the door wide despite countless ‘what if it’s a bad-guy?’  talks. no chance of talking through the threshold. she is holding a cup. a small plastic one with a lid. ounces ticked off on the side.

she says i look “clean”. at first i look around and think to myself, ” thank you. thank you for noticing. i am very neat aren’t i? “. and then i realize that she is referring to my pee  not my tidy apartment. darn.

 

yeah, it’s monday for sure.

you know what?

*my sister in law is coming to town. giddy with excitement!

*i’m totally engulfed in this book. i love stream of consciousness writers. so good.

*i stayed up late last night rearranging my living room because of my addiction to this site. us mortals shall only hope to be so cool.

*i did this to my books. who would alphabetize when you can rainbowtize?

*oh and i have totally dreamed up a necklace with a pretty lace pendant like this. and that lovely sis in law is going to help me make it real. yay!

 what are your weekend plans? indulge me.

today i’m wearing jeans i can’t breath in

standing in line at the store yesterday my face flushed hot. i was holding a week’s paycheck worth of framing supplies. i had taken inventory of all the work, his and mine, worthy of such attention. and here i was ready to drop our grocery budget on it. lentils and rice. lentils and rice. buzzing through my head.

and then this woman, this track-suit wearing woman, appears and tells me she has just been in the bathroom and i’m standing in her place in line. she stares at me blankly.

“no. oh no lady. i’m not moving. you were gone! i’m busy too lady. oh god i’m busy too!”

no. i didn’t say that. i didn’t even want to say that. but it ping-ponged around in my stomach that moment.

what i really wanted to do is hug this small woman and cry into her velour shoulder. i wanted to tell her, between sobs, how thinly i was stretched. stretched between the cash in my pocket, my job, my senior year, an internship, art, shows, kids, housework, my bank account, my credit score, expectations, family drama , too tight jeans. oh the list!

but instead i watched as she slipped her credit card back in it’s plastic envelope and swayed out the revolving door. better for her, right? safe from sobbing girls.

i haven’t had the words lately, i’ve noticed too. the thing is, words need space to exist. and every time they come knocking they are turned away. and away they sulk.

i guess this is my temporary white flag. it’s an annihilation of control. i can no longer be keeper of promises, or always be on time, or worry about the outcome. i can only do what needs to be done this second.

and if that means i’m wearing jeans that are too tight today to teach myself a lesson, then lesson learned. soon i will have to introduce some control back into my life, but right now i’m laying down the struggle and getting what needs to be done right this second done. and that happens to be a kid on the toliet.