I've decided to take the plunge and move my blog to my new website: www.tigerfoodpress.com. In a few days, I'll be redirecting this address to my new blog site - http://www.tigerfoodpress.com/blog/
Blogger has been such a great community, and I'm going to miss seeing my reading list every time I log in to post, and more often, when I'm not posting but just checking in.
I do intend to keep up with you all - I hope you'll do the same in my new home. For the record, I think it looks great over there. I'm trying to figure out how to include an easy way for you to get RSS feeds, etc., but in the meantime, feel free to bookmark, post comments, and share.
I was happy and honored to be invited by Barb Tetenbaum to show a piece along-side her own, a part of her latest work exploring the reading of Willa Cather's My Antonia. I, of course, sent in a print of...a rock.
If you missed my solo show last year at the Oregon College of Art and Craft, Tuf, this is a chance to see one of those rock prints hung for a day or two.
The entire festival looks like a blast - there'll be music and tons of art taking over the town for the weekend. Check out the full festival schedule here.
Two bits of news before I head off into the weekend, in which I will be teaching a workshop both Saturday and Sunday called The Power of the Pamphlet. Bind on!
But first I have to tell you how difficult it is to stay inside to work when the spring is calling so temptingly outside. Things are really crazy right now. Not in a bad way, I just have a lot on my plate and I'm not sure when I'll get a day off for a while. So I try to sneak off for an hour here and there just to get my boots a bit muddy and to make sure I don't miss the budding trees.
News bit #1: My new website is up! Please wander over and take a look. The first stage of this site is still kind of rough around the edges. Over the next few months I'll be adding a commerce section for my posters and prints, as well as offering a new customizable print line and better wholesale options. But for now I'm very happy to have this stage finished.
News bit #2: My huge spring sale in my Ephemera shop is still going on! If you still need a 2013 calendar my abstract forest print calendar is still available. And notecards and notebooks are reduced and ready to ship!
May your weekends be bright and delightful and just the way you would want it to be!
Hayden Island is a spit of land that fingers its way through the western end of the Columbia River near the I5 bridge in Portland. Long ago this island was a sandy getaway for Portland's youth. There were amusement parks, parties, tragedies and heartbreaks throughout the roaring 20s and into the Great Depression. Take a look. Glamourous, right?
Today's arial views make the island look to be an almost bucolic place. A beach-lined, treed island oasis straddling state lines. I don't walk here often, because the reality is that it's a city, and this is one of those weird, lonely places that only a city can contain. I'm not a paranoid person, but when I park along a sidewalk that ends in a sand pit and a pile of garbage out of someone's dumpster, I have to consider that my windows might be smashed in when I return. A littering of broken glass indicates that this has happened before. When I dip into a little ravine which cuts across the expanse before the beach, I can't help but brace myself to stumble into someone's makeshift home. And when I take note of the stern "NO TRESPASSING" signs and the warnings about sewage overflow that line the perimeter of the forested inland, I feel thankful that I remembered to wear my tall, waterproof boots, and I make a note to take them off before I enter the house when I get home. For a few long moments I wish I had a dog. Having a dog is a 'socially acceptable' excuse for a woman to be walking alone in this potentially threatening land. But also, I kind of want a dog.
Lonely is the best way to describe a place like this. Until you stop and hold your breath as you try to take in exactly how many crows are lining a particular section of beach. Until you are stopped again in your tracks by a heron taking flight in front of you. Until you smile with pleasure at the family of ducks coyly connected in a little cove created by a big pipe dumping into the Columbia.
The other side of the river is lined with barges, a wheat processing facility, silos. This side of the river has let nature reclaim it. Spring growth blends with the smell of creosote.
I walk to a point along the beach where someone has built a barge just offshore. It appears to be constructed of discarded material, and it's well covered in tarps against the weather. There's a tent inside a little sheltered nook, someone is living here. I could live there, I thought. A moment ago I was concerned about tracking river sewage into my own home.
There are dog-walkers along the beach. I only encounter two, but tracks are indicating this is a popular dog spot. I pass a woman with four very large dogs. She has them firmly under control and is walking them closely at her side.
As I'm walking back, another gang of dogs approaches. This time there are eight of them, half of them are attached firmly to leashes held by their walker. Of eight enormous dogs, one of them bolts from the pack and comes at me. Something about me is really, really bothering him. He seems like a bit of a pup, small and uncertain. But he's a big breed, and his bark is loud and insistant and really, really close to my face. Right now I'm so glad I don't have a dog.
The dog-walker is hurrying toward me, calling this little paranoid dog's name. I see he's a startlingly well dressed, handsome cowboy type. It feels like a full minute before he can reach me, and he's losing control of his herd one at a time. Suddenly I'm swept up in a flurry of big, big dogs. They're all at least as tall as my hip. They're all wet and running and circling me, barking, barking, barking, barking, barking. I've been accidentally caught in a vortex. I've been handed a leash to hold while my little nemesis continues to circle me and elude his human caretaker. This is so strange.
"Thank you for being so unbelievably fucking calm," the handsome dog-walker says to me as I smile and hand him back the leash.
2. My business plan stated specifically "no more cards."
3. I'm working on a new paper goods line.
4. It includes cards.
5. I'm super excited about it.
6. Super Spring Sale to help clear out old inventory!!!
Please head on over to la shoppe for discounts of up to 25%.