Friday, December 12, 2008
'Tis the Season #2
Sent by Myrna (thank you!!!) and had to be shared with the world.
So - what are you getting for the holidays?
Labels: Creativity of Others, Damn Technology, Family, Faux Pas, Holidays, Meta Bloggin', Ouch, People
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Sentence of The YEAR
T'was the day before Christmas Eve. TreatieL and WeldyL came over, bringing a fun guest with them: KnocksYourSocksOff, to whom - in the name of syllable rationing - we shall refer to as Knox.
We had a great meal at one of our favorite restaurants, Ginger Cafe, where TreatieL made sure the waiters there won't forget her (it's a habit of hers...), and came back to our house for a post-dinner hang out, or as The JohnnyB put it in his hospitable way: "Why are you following us into the house?".
There we sat and sipped a The JohnnyB home-brew, talked and laughed and chatted and laughed and laughed and laughed. A lot of tongue fencing was going on, with The JohnnyB excelling himself again and again, exchanging deadly jests with TreatieL and Knox. WeldyL and I chose to take the fifth, as we could see we stand no chance against them.
At some point, TreatieL spotted a pair of charcoal drawings I did 3 years ago as an exercise in a basic drawing class. To me, they are successful technical exercises, but she gasped with awe, "You did THOSE?". WeldyL (an incredible welding artist) and I started to complain about how no matter what breakthroughs you make or what major progress you do as an artist, some people will always tell you "Ah, I like the way you used to paint before much more".
As we were discussing this existential issue, Knox stood up and walked towards the kitchen. With starry eyes and all the sincerity in the world, he said:
"Hey, you know which painting is my favorite? I really like THIS one!".
Took The JohnnyB and I a while to recover from the fit of hysterical laughter. The JohnnyB's was hearty and joyous, while Mine was mixed with deep offense...
...'coz Knox, who stood there with an innocent expression on his face (maybe for the first time that evening), was pointing at a one of the framed watercolor paintings on the wall. A wonderful dark painting of an island, mostly in muted grays except for some golden yellow shapes that stood out. A great painting. Definitely a work of art. Only... it's a painting by an East German artist from the island of Rügen, that The JohnnyB's bought when he went with his mother to visit her birth-place in Germany.
So - of all the paintings in our house, Knox liked THAT one the most.
As in, a painting I did not paint.
Needless to say, the level of joy went high (way TOO high, if you ask me!), with Knox, whose face turned an intriguing hue of a deep rich red (Perylene Maroon comes to mind), trying to make up for his faux pas, saying "Ah.... this is even worse than 'I like the way you used to paint!' This is like, 'I like the way you used to paint when you did not even paint'".Yup.
Later, I mentioned my pottery period, when I was failing to do one decent pot, and my pottery teacher commented with sarcasm, "You know, Nava, it's so interesting that so many experienced potters take years of pottery and struggle to reach the freedom that you seem to have right away..." (meaning - I suck!).
Knox sat up full of piety and fury, and said "I so disagree with the fact that someone else had the nerve to tell you to stop doing art!!!".
"Yup", said The JohnnyB, "you'd rather tell her yourself!".
And so, for next year, I wish that one of MY paintings will be someone's favorite.
Or, I can simply take down all the non-Nava stuff...
previous Sentence of The Month... ...next Sentence of The Month
Labels: Art, Faux Pas, It's All About Me, Major Achievements, Ouch, People, Sentence of The Month
Monday, April 16, 2007
Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind
Got pulled over today, by a cop!
For the very first time!!
I am here for just over 5 years, been here on several business trips before moving here, and - being the honorable truthful person that I am - I cannot quite attest that I've always kept the speed limit.
And yet - this is my very first encounter with the law.
(well, actually, it's the second.
The first time was when I called 911 by mistake, without even knowing I did, and 20 minuets later, three cops with drawn pistols and two police cars in the background were at the door... but that's another story...).
There I was, today, on a gorgeous shiny afternoon, driving back from my trip to the art store, with additional paint and brayers in the trunk.
I was speeding.
Not outrageously, mind you! Pretty much like anyone else.
I cheerfully sped along, as I caught a glimpse of a motorcycle in my rearview mirror, about 3 cars behind me. And the motorcyclist, y'know, seemed a big official.
To be on the safe side, I switched to the right lane, and slowed down, as he switched to the left lane, slowing down himself.
I kept driving at a decent speed, with the most innocent face I could dig out of my repertoire, awaiting him to start the audio visual show of lights and siren.
Nothing.
"Cool", I thought, "He was not after me, after all!".
Wrong!!!
I looked to my left, and noticed that he has slowed down even more, and was saying something, in addition to waving his hands in a weird way.
I was very tempted to cheerfully wave back, but I pulled over, rolled down my window, and looked at him curiously. Hey, these cops really do look like on TV: nice and friendly and cordial and all.
He stopped near me, almost smiled, and said "You slowed down just in a nick of time, didn't you?".
Now, in such cases, the best thing is to just surrender. No use arguing, Eh? Especially when I knew I was sinful.
Plus, he didn't even call me 'Ma'am'. I was starting to like him a lot!
I smiled a guilty smile and said, "Yes, I did. I am sorry", feeling my face lighting up in a graceful hue of vermilion.
"You were this close to getting a ticket", he pantomimed with two fingers, and added, "Slow down".
"Thank you", I said
('Thank you'!? 'THANK YOU'!??! what a dumb response!!).
"You see", he continued to mused, ignoring the fact that he is creating a serious traffic hazard with the two of us chatting like that on the shoulder of the quite narrow road, "When I see a car doing zigzags like you did, I go after it and give a ticket".
The Queen of Zigzags apologized, yet again.
"Slow down", he repeated with a lawful voice yet in a very benevolent fatherly manner.
"I will", I promised with doe eyes, and we parted as friends.
No ticket.
He took off, continuing his quest for other dangerous speed delinquents, and, after a surprisingly short while of waiting for someone to let me get back into traffic, I continued to drive.
The cop was out of sight - - -
- - -
- - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - -and yet, I drove just at speed limit all the way back home.
'cause he was so nice.
Damn, it's slow to be a good law-abider!!!
Labels: Driving, Faux Pas, Major Achievements
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Meanwhile, At The Framing Table...
Been framing again.
Only this time, without last-moment hysteria.
My two paintings are hanging in our new group show (reception April 13th, and y'all are welcome to attend), nicely matted and framed and looking good.
Now I am on the roll. About to be done framing three other paintings, in order to get juried-in as an exhibiting member at another art association, which is much smaller than the one I'm active in for the last two years. They go for all kinds of media, not just watercolors, which opens a door for photography and drawing and pretty much any form of visual art.
It's quite tedious, to frame your own paintings.
Actually, the framing bit is extremely easy, if you're using metal frames: just assemble 3 sides, insert the sandwich (made of Plexiglas, foam core backing, and in-between the painting which is hinged to the mat), add the fourth side, garnish with a hanging wire attached to D-rings, tape the ends of the wires, and - voila!
But the matting!!!
The matting takes forever.
First, I need to decide on the size of the opening (as in, exactly how much of the painting do I want showing?), the color of the mat, whether or not I want a colored inset (and if I do - what color? and how wide should the inset be?).
Then come the mind-boggling calculations of sixteenth of an inch and forty-seventh of an ounce, which commences the edgy stage of speaking fidgety Inchish to myself and to the miraculously-patient The JohnnyB. I can't quite explain it, but once I need to add and subtract in the diaspora of the non-metric system, my left brain goes numb and I become a complete idiot, while The JohnnyB watches in awe. This transformation never ceases to thoroughly amuse him.
Once all the numbers have been checked three times and audited by the somehwhat-less-patient The JohnnyB, it's time to mark the lines on the back of the mat (in the good case that I remember to do it on the back).
And then, finally, cometh the moment of truth, done with awesome reverence: the cutting of the mat.
This stage involves a lot of debates between me (yes, me!) to make sure the crucial cut is correct, and plenty of theological and existential questions arise:
Is the mat cutter aligned?
Am I aligned?
Will I remember to put the production-stopping thingies at the right place, or will I screw up (yet again) a perfectly good piece of matboard?
Will I leave an inked fingerprint on the clean mat after I am done cutting it? (yep, of course it happened. Yes, I had to cut a new mat from scratch. Yes, I screamed my lungs off).
This time, by sheer grace, the mat cutting went just fine. I actually enjoyed it.
And yet, that grace was limited and temporary.
As today I found out that I am talented enough to screw-up things even at the very last second.
There I was, about to complete the framing of one of The JohnnyB's favorites paintings (he even made a beer label using part of it), meticulously hinged to a beautifully cut double-mat with a glorious inset, the foamcore in the back, the clean Plexiglas in the front. I held the sandswich with confident hands, and carefully inserted it into the frame with one swift motion.
It felt so good I almost needed a cigarette. (only we don't have dem 'tings in the house anymore)...
But - - -
Something was a bit odd.
Something did not look quite right.
In my eternal wisdom, I have inserted it so that the Plexiglas was facing the back, with the foamcore gazing at the front of the frame, blinking its foamy eyes with confusion. Of course, nothing wrong with doing it this way, but it's not highly recommended, if you actually want the painting to be seen.
Muttering to myself some constructive criticism about my diminishing IQ, I shamefully took the sandwich out of the reprimanding frame (after a short pause for some passionate multi-lingual cussing) and redid it the right way.
Not a big deal, Eh?
It's not like The JohnnyB witnessed it and will be on my case from now on.
Looking with sheer pride at the framed art, I . . . suddenly . . . saw . . that the Plexiglas got decorated with two perfectly straight, parallel scratches along the sides, reminiscent of the previous misinsertion.
If you look closely, you can see it, so please don't.
Labels: Art, Faux Pas, Major Achievements
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Days Like This...
What a day!!!
After going to sleep at 02:30 last night (because I could, that's why!), I somehow managed to get up in time, and decided to go ahead and go on a paint-out day, at the Presentation Center, way down in the Santa Cruz mountains.
It was very straightforward getting there, and took only 30 minutes.
85 South, then 17 South, and then 2.5 miles on the insanely uphill-winding Bear Creek road.
On a normal day, that would be a fun drive.
Only today, with the remains of my cold, plus my deadtiredness, that little ride did not make my dizzy head very happy.
But I made it.
The Presentation Center is - apparently - an incredible place.
Quite rustic, very unpretentious, beautiful grounds, giant trees, heartbreakingly stunning in their post-fall colors, adobe buildings scattered all over the place - a haven for painters and photographers, and actually for anyone.
Just strolling around makes you feel on vacation, to the point that puts that idiotic grin on your face.
And, it was sooooooooooo warm and sunny!
December 7th, you hear "I'm Dreaming of A White Christmas" everywhere you turn - and we got a tan!
This place is really something else!
You can have a conference, party, lunch, dinner, they have rooms, you can just come and stroll the grounds.
Next time you want something different, check it out.
Whether it's during the week or on a weekend.
Apparently, not only is this place gorgeous, it's also packed with history.
Packed, I tell ya.
- - - - - - - -
OK, now I am getting this smirk on my face...
...and that would probably expand to the faces of some of my readers from far far away.
So let me just say this:
Among other things, it took me a very long time to get used to the usage of the word "history" in the USofA.
Here, a 200 year old building becomes a historical marker, and many places proudly claim "In business since 1950", which means they wallow in history.
And, hmm, how shall I put it gently: where I come from, history goes, well, a bit further.
Just a touch, y'know.
"Hey, when it comes to Western society, we go as far as 400 years!", reprimands The JohnnyB.
Yeah, well... that's nice. How's that working for ya?
- - - - - - - -
Anyway - that presentation Center used to be a school for boys, and they used to have ladders between the different floors of the buildings and all - must have been a very fun place!
Now they have staircases and other modern niceties, but the remodeling was done so that the place still retains its character and charm.
And it has a lot of both.
At some point, I realized it's actually a catholic place (well, that explains the crosses all around), but they welcome anyone through their gates.
I mean, really welcome.
And everyone!
There is even a sign that says "Welcome" in 15 or 16 languages (with an excruciating typo in Hebrew...).
Anyway - we had a fun day, a bunch of us painting, and BlaineyC hung with us for lunch.
BlaineyC used to be the leader of our watercolor society and is now the marketing person of the center.
She gave three of us a tour of all the rooms and buildings, and brought us to the little charming chapel, where I made a highly bloggable mistake, which I cannot talk about, as it may offend some of the readers...
No, really.
Honestly, I cannot tell you.
Oh, OK, what the heck!
Better me telling you the actual version, and the whole truth, than The JohnnyB raving about his retarded wife and taking some artistic license...
So, here goes:
Y'see, in the little chapel, in a little corner, there stood a little table.
And on the little table, there was a little crystal candy-jar.
And next to it, there lived a little bottle-thingy.
I thought it contained olive oil (it looked like olive oil, OK?!?), and I was wondering (loudly, alas):
"Why would they put olive oil in such a little bottle?".
More than that - why would they have balsamic vinegar in a candy jar?
And why isn't the balsamic vinegar darker?
And why does it look like it has crumbs in it?
And then, Oh dear dear readers, as I got closer, I saw it was more like, well... kinda... very... flat... cookies... like, wafers... y'know?
Yep.
Told ya!
Well, I do have the ultimate excuse for this unforgiving ignorance.
And yet, BlaineyC and the other two took way too long a time to get over the laughter.
Good thing I was brought up to be so well-behaved, and didn't touch anything.
Bad thing I actually opened my mouth.
Silence is sometimes priceless.
Indeed.
Perhaps I should have started this post a bit differently: "A Catholic, a Unitarian, an Atheist and a Jew go into a chapel"...
A-n-y-w-a-y - look at the time...
Then it was time to head back home.
Winding road went fine.
17 North went fine.
85 North went fine. . . .
. . . but something seemed a bit weird.
And, as I saw the sign that cheerfully informed me "Oakland, 33 miles", I got somewhat uneasy, but kept on driving, sticking to my eternal optimism.
When I arrived at Mission Ave, in Fremont, I figured that perhaps I have gone a bit too far north.
And East.
And away from where I was heading.
Not that I have something against Fremont.
A lot of lovely people live there.
In fact, some of our very best friends live there.
Fremont is a very, very nice place.
Very.
But not when you need to get to Los Altos for a haircut!
Cussing with all my might, I drove back, without getting a ticket (that's the miracle of the day! perhaps all the good energy from the Presentation Center was protecting me). and made it just in time for the shearing.
My hair designer, however, could hardly do the job, as she was laughing so hard at the scenic route I took.
Yeah, VandieA, it's always funny when it happens to someone else, ain't it?
Other than that, the haircut was uneventful.
But then I got a deep cut in my thumb when I put my hand into my purse to get the wallet out (I still have no idea what caused this cut), and with a blood-dripping hand, I drove my poor-fuzzy-diddumed self (a-la ValieM) home, just to realize that I forgot my earrings at the salon.
If you happen to go there, (and I couldn't recommend it more!!!), would you please get them for me?
'cause I ain't no drivin' nowhere in the near future!
*** P.S. the photos so nonchalantly attached to this post, as if it's the most trivial thing in the world, took about 6 hours to download.
They are the very first pictures shown to the world, taken by LumiB, and I somehow managed to screw the card during the download... We almost decided to reset the card, but LexieV, who was visiting from England, has saved the day, big time, and from now on he shall be known as The God of Hacking.
But that is a whole different story, that shall hopefully be blogged by The JohnnyB.
When offered the idea, he snapped - good-tempered as always: "I will blog it if and when I feel like it".
. . .OK then.
I am going to officially put an end to this day.
It's been way too long and evenful.
Layla Tov. (means, Good Night, in the language of the land with real history).
Labels: Driving, Faux Pas, Photohgraphy
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The Ultimate Insult
Sometimes, you can tell by the way your morning goes, that it's not gonna be a good day.
My loving and beloved sister persistently refuses to read my Blog.
"It's in English!", she reprimands, "why don't you translate it for me?".
No, Duh **
(** I do apologize for this futile link, but some people just trademark everything...).
?האם זיהיתיך בתמונה לפי מוקסינייך - תואמי שלי
For the readers who grew up in the country that keeps you unilingual, it basically means:
"Judging by the moccasins - is that you, my sister?
Now, that just hurts!
