tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74170662024-03-18T21:02:10.073-07:00LISA SOLOMON :: m u s i n g slisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.comBlogger789125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-7483709937941862102023-08-27T11:39:00.001-07:002023-08-27T11:39:20.047-07:00there aren't enough cliches for this<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQGGGuVAbR-GfrYEBsuR4IRIdrfatIvOh11d94BoBQZsRB_GYnYRS1yYq4xglIAarsGqny3GrPuS05v4FJSULEI05QegPHyU3DG1HZ4o-6kmA--5ujoVVImT1--Qi9C70deH0J1KXPGql7p1ZZOzkTCJfQwrPrk910DwpxFu7S7ktlhcG7LbrlzA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQGGGuVAbR-GfrYEBsuR4IRIdrfatIvOh11d94BoBQZsRB_GYnYRS1yYq4xglIAarsGqny3GrPuS05v4FJSULEI05QegPHyU3DG1HZ4o-6kmA--5ujoVVImT1--Qi9C70deH0J1KXPGql7p1ZZOzkTCJfQwrPrk910DwpxFu7S7ktlhcG7LbrlzA=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">it's been a year. a year today. 366 days ago i had to make the decision to take you off your breathing support. it took about 24 hours for you to physically leave the planet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i think of you [and frankly many others] almost daily.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i see the stuff i walked down the street from your house to mine and it reminds me of the way you laughed. the obsession we shared for beauty. the meticulousness with which you curated. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i am still legally wrapping up all the loose ends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i have learned a lot about the mechanics behind the scenes of death. i remember making calls trying to find a crematorium to use that could get you, didn't cost 3x more than another, and didn't offer these hokey "full luxury" packages of boat trips and fancy urns. is it a surprise that someone might try to upsell you in a time of grief? nope. is it nonetheless weird? yup. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">this isn't the first time i've gone through people's things, but it's the first time i've dealt with it on my own. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">is it wrong that in somewhere in the corner of my mind i'm thinking this will make it easier the next time i have to do this? how do i make this easier for my child? less stuff. i definitely need less stuff [but know this is almost impossible to achieve]. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i watched the marc maron special on netflix and spit laughed when he talked about the contingent of people who send a year of magical thinking when you are dealing with grief. i am that person. i've sent it to several. i almost reread it. but i couldn't quite. i realized i can't really internalize didion's grief again. it was helpful many moons ago when i read it on a plane in one sitting in grief. now i know enough and have done it enough to not use that bandaid. this time i'm giving it air. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the thing about getting older is you have to just accept that death is closer. it's closer for you. it's closer for those you love. and if you are lucky you actually accumulate these notches of grief on your belt. the grief means there was love. love for many pets. love for many people. the loss stings, but then at some point the loss switches from sharp pain to ache to a fondness for the memories and appreciation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">is this a consolation? on good days yes. i mean i'd rather have the love in my life to feel the loss. and the good thing is that perspective kind of makes you just laugh at the absurdity of all the things in life that go wrong. there is no rhyme or reason as to why some installation dude broke my cold water washer valve and didn't tell me. or why they delivered a brand new washing machine that didn't work out of the box. or why the plumber made the problem worse before fixing it 4 hours later with our water off [such first world problems]. or why customer service on the phone is so absolutely terrible at best buy [but shout out to the manager of my local store]. or how if i hadn't called AGAIN AND AGAIN they wouldn't have actually submitted the claim for my plumbing bill - that was totally their fault. one they submitted but with an error and didn't bother to tell me that that hadn't worked either until i called to follow up. you can't help but think they were hoping it was a waiting game and that me and my claim would give up and disappear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">so yeah. that stuff. it still bothers me and i still yell and do my best karen impersonation but i also laugh. and i also think of how you in particular always said - don't make lisa mad. you don't want to mess with her when she is. </div><br /> <p></p>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-91597227532338264822023-03-11T12:50:00.004-08:002023-03-11T12:50:57.311-08:00a fictionalized recounting of a friday in march<p>((to the writing together crew - i have not been here. i don't know how it is already march. i just don't. but i am here again.))</p><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">3/10/23</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Scumbag!” </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-ec23a0a5-7fff-b040-aee2-d6b1c8f92ba0"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She looked up. It had been quiet, yet forcefully muttered under his breath. Was it directed at her? No way to know for sure. She went back to checking the target app for throat numbing spray. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A day that originally seemed fun. Mom and kiddo going to museum. Eating lunch at a fancy Japanese matcha place. Only to be foiled by a sore throat. Not hers. Kiddo’s. Insert womp womp noise here. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9GWIrvdWiAJsa6HwhgcwFDbHbrP3afeRXDvnuckxejZAiD6ZNU2y5_zI4o2zGQCbkTzh1EvwrbPZv7RzUMgGY6o96t1rwrxnZB_2-b_Sn-RwK5sS6p6did76GR5MzM8fdXkIIChI2XQJBRL-JtulQ1y0LFUvymT8wAXT8r5BisjSvYYazQ8/s4032/4B956B2D-2D0D-41C4-9DEF-2AD561C8D941.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9GWIrvdWiAJsa6HwhgcwFDbHbrP3afeRXDvnuckxejZAiD6ZNU2y5_zI4o2zGQCbkTzh1EvwrbPZv7RzUMgGY6o96t1rwrxnZB_2-b_Sn-RwK5sS6p6did76GR5MzM8fdXkIIChI2XQJBRL-JtulQ1y0LFUvymT8wAXT8r5BisjSvYYazQ8/w300-h400/4B956B2D-2D0D-41C4-9DEF-2AD561C8D941.heic" width="300" /></a></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was, though, the last weekend to see the Joan Brown show. And she had tickets. So she had to go. Her MO was to speed thru exhibitions anyway. So 3, 2,1. She was the FIRST to arrive. The whole damn show to her whole damn self. As she exited the elevator all the guards sitting on a bench. Waiting. Dispersing to their assigned rooms as soon as they saw her. A flurry of quiet good mornings leaving their lips. Those were definitely directed at her. She smiled widely under her mask. ((you can tell when someone is smiling under their mask, right?))</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCzkUKVcjCCoFhmL-oFCMNmb2LWG3SRFKbKdER5k-D1DJvzSoPNgFMvlma3XZS3LFVgBvcHdw_xuo5Non2yTiOeOo2y_L-SDIntUzx4T7hAh7nioyWFZG0FMDPMcE331W5n_JuCtY_PPEoapYz8qAsUuA8zNcReMvXSUDQk-yqYnyJpfYOCM/s4032/9CFF0307-E627-4B43-B934-7067C962AE46.heic" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCzkUKVcjCCoFhmL-oFCMNmb2LWG3SRFKbKdER5k-D1DJvzSoPNgFMvlma3XZS3LFVgBvcHdw_xuo5Non2yTiOeOo2y_L-SDIntUzx4T7hAh7nioyWFZG0FMDPMcE331W5n_JuCtY_PPEoapYz8qAsUuA8zNcReMvXSUDQk-yqYnyJpfYOCM/w300-h400/9CFF0307-E627-4B43-B934-7067C962AE46.heic" width="300" /></a></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Joan’s early work is breathtaking. The physicality of the paint. ((maybe they are still wet in the middle)). The documenting of her child, before the current era of OH WE LOVE WOMEN MOTHER ARTISTS - said while they still circle the margins. She had missed Brown at Berkeley by 1 year. This always saddened her. Not that she felt like she missed out on anything. Just that it would have been </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">more.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVi8CDR2oOrYhj4Fd922OvndmLTM8HHjx1uab4eNbSlQqljwVkMWk9FjxneIJ8o92hPLVSj6itb1Psz8K19f8E5WXBMd_IbJAIDrLcyH_kOVANt4IoRidifxW0pbn470MjUxLOq_ByQNyx0dPwkPd92HUxmljF-Jh3JlJUK1BAJ2rdB0j95pI/s4032/14575442-5789-4A6A-AC00-DAE32E03E419.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVi8CDR2oOrYhj4Fd922OvndmLTM8HHjx1uab4eNbSlQqljwVkMWk9FjxneIJ8o92hPLVSj6itb1Psz8K19f8E5WXBMd_IbJAIDrLcyH_kOVANt4IoRidifxW0pbn470MjUxLOq_ByQNyx0dPwkPd92HUxmljF-Jh3JlJUK1BAJ2rdB0j95pI/w300-h400/14575442-5789-4A6A-AC00-DAE32E03E419.heic" width="300" /></a><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Transitioning into weirder flat paintings. Still personal. Still documenting. Love, loss, swimming. Herself. In lingerie, in swim caps, as a cat, in a fur hat… doing the thing that painters are doing so much now. But then. BEFORE. When it wasn’t cool. Or taken seriously. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsY4nhzecNAyL-yhLJSTR7YoYdjRbpc2okEJl2nHu23Ou50plFzMdw7riGvgCW6fC_l_RIUJg0Eq1F3NLFhLzcGv4Rxyh24Gb0hLrmnegWQ2olYy0M44DJUMf8e856tCsE1nd2fH6DBKCbnQzYaHBJJ-9h4NQ3eNtNn_baHfxD7v3NcZ9xaY/s4032/6B59966E-0D17-469A-87C7-596BF22F0F59.heic" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsY4nhzecNAyL-yhLJSTR7YoYdjRbpc2okEJl2nHu23Ou50plFzMdw7riGvgCW6fC_l_RIUJg0Eq1F3NLFhLzcGv4Rxyh24Gb0hLrmnegWQ2olYy0M44DJUMf8e856tCsE1nd2fH6DBKCbnQzYaHBJJ-9h4NQ3eNtNn_baHfxD7v3NcZ9xaY/w300-h400/6B59966E-0D17-469A-87C7-596BF22F0F59.heic" width="300" /></a></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking close you can see all these small drips. Movements of her hand. Fraught with decision making. Smart decisions. Smart moves. Pattern on pattern. Floor lines, water lines, spiritual lines - all crossed. Still painterly while flat. It’s all an illusion anyway. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Died at 52 says the wall text. She’ll be 52 soon. Rori was 52 last year when she died. Should she fear 52? What the actual hell? Knowing that someone died too young is one thing. Actually confronting the wall that lays this fact flat out for you is another. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEngH5JmicX8Yc8QeBL2xnE1H40L8ELnMprBJG4z7Cfcb5E-nvX56ZvQi9u5o6sJwbtCXfhbIPSaz9wfE3jHDJ8z1augCxbjtALxjZgrScGAodxQR2D2mdsER_ZNqD7w9dWEmzToHTirHRrDIWHD0ZANzs3GWwF4xJ7YWSRWTaO4nrJG6Br18/s2293/7DDDEA32-B380-42E9-84E7-3B1A96C309D1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2293" data-original-width="1290" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEngH5JmicX8Yc8QeBL2xnE1H40L8ELnMprBJG4z7Cfcb5E-nvX56ZvQi9u5o6sJwbtCXfhbIPSaz9wfE3jHDJ8z1augCxbjtALxjZgrScGAodxQR2D2mdsER_ZNqD7w9dWEmzToHTirHRrDIWHD0ZANzs3GWwF4xJ7YWSRWTaO4nrJG6Br18/w225-h400/7DDDEA32-B380-42E9-84E7-3B1A96C309D1.jpeg" width="225" /></a><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then as she ran around the rest of the museum she kept thinking about the ages of the artists. Born in the 20’s died in the 2020’s. Born in 1991 ((BABY!)). Born before her. Born after her. What difference does age really make anyway? Anything and everything… for the young ones she thought - ah. Younger than me. Do they know how lucky they are? Even if they are deserving. For the ones older she thought - i still have time then. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mAhLx2g4SUlmpn6NWxHPRwmqxipdiX5Pde3yeu5JFXJouhcl1LNJOa5Ef2ZTvBlKNETqZIoWZs9xX51-MCsnU3auDKBEGIqMs7-dwAWno9jgsnUTFgaRQwjHKdjv2a-p2oOCYf7moelDsR4M3fyIIUcG3lipjer-Pnf9yJqFbTUvXC04qb8/s2293/0F1D43DA-0534-445C-BDF3-CF5E70840955.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2293" data-original-width="1290" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mAhLx2g4SUlmpn6NWxHPRwmqxipdiX5Pde3yeu5JFXJouhcl1LNJOa5Ef2ZTvBlKNETqZIoWZs9xX51-MCsnU3auDKBEGIqMs7-dwAWno9jgsnUTFgaRQwjHKdjv2a-p2oOCYf7moelDsR4M3fyIIUcG3lipjer-Pnf9yJqFbTUvXC04qb8/s320/0F1D43DA-0534-445C-BDF3-CF5E70840955.jpeg" width="180" /></a><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">WHO FREAKING CARES anyway. Art isn’t a competitive sport. No matter what anyone says. So then she just judged art as she always did. What made her heart sing. What was technically sound and respectable. What she really didn’t like or didn’t need to spend any time with. Too shallow. Too easy. Too lacking. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In target the lady monitoring the self checkout looked at her ID - it’s cause you’re buying cold medicine. Oh ! I recognize you. You come here all the time. But she hadn’t been in this target in probably 3-4 years. She didn’t want to confirm or deny. So she let her eyes smile. Above the mask. And just said thank you for your help. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Exiting target 3 unhoused people with dogs sat within 10 feet of each other. The ones with dogs always get to her more. The combined feeling of i’m so glad they have a pet, but how do they take care of said pet swirling. One dog looked longingly at her and she just about cried. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><img alt="A family of four (with a couple and their children) sits on the back of a pickup truck near the port. The tagline above it reads "Every family has its own language." The poster shows the film's titles, awards from the Sundance film festival, and a list of cast members." class="thumbborder" data-file-height="387" data-file-width="258" decoding="async" height="400" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/8/89/Coda_poster.jpeg/220px-Coda_poster.jpeg" srcset="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/89/Coda_poster.jpeg 1.5x" width="267" /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the car thinking about CODA - the movie - and youth and desire for something outside yourself and for “success” at that. And for family and flying free of the nest ((which her child will do sooner than she’s ready for)). How we can all simultaneously know and not know what we are doing. How no matter how corny something might be, it might still make you cry. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A tesla cuts her off. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scumbag! She mutters under her breath. </span></p></span><div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div></div></div></div>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-80474456085261366712022-12-01T13:03:00.004-08:002022-12-01T13:05:10.920-08:00acupuncture for me?<p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="About Acupuncture" class="n3VNCb KAlRDb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://www.willowtreehealers.org/uploads/8/4/9/4/84940822/maxresdefault_orig.jpg" style="-webkit-user-select: text; height: 489.0929095354523px; margin: 0px; width: 574px;" /> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">i have always been terrified of needles. it's irrational - other than the fact that needles do actually hurt. just looking at an exposed hypodermic needle makes my skin crawl. my parents and i always joked that i would never be a junkie because there was no way i could inject myself. truth. </p><p><br /></p><p>this is still true. </p><p><br /></p><p>but the universe has a way of forcing you confront your fears. at least sometimes. and in that is a greater moral life lesson right? [always. there always is]. luckily i don't have the same practically paralyzing experience with sewing pins/needles, or my whole art career would be a futile attempt of work arounds. BUT a few years ago our cat became diabetic. and i had to give her daily injections of insulin. those needles are small and short, but i swear it felt like some cosmic force was kind of snickering at me. so you don't like needles huh? yeah, well here's some good exposure therapy. i silently apologized to lulu each time i pricked her. luckily she didn't seem to care at all. </p><p>here i am. still pretty afraid of needles. i put on a good face to get vaccines. kids will do that to you. force you to put on a heroic front when confronting terrifying things. spiders? not creepy - they eat bad bugs. vaccines? sure no one likes them, but they keep us safe. </p><p>acupuncture has been recommended to me several times over my lifetime. each time i found a different remedy to try. massage, electric pulse therapy... sure i'll try some herbs, but no way can i lie still with needles poking out of me. but i now have carpel tunnel. and brain fog. my cold feet aren't getting any warmer and my ribs have never recovered from pregnancy. AND acupuncture is covered by my health care. $15 co-pay 20 visits a year thank you very much. so i tried it. and i'm frankly still bone chilling scared. and sometimes they do hurt or sting on initial entry, but then dull to an ache or heaviness - i keep thinking no pain no gain is no longer a meaningless platitude. i like my acupuncturist. she has a<a href="https://www.rbleckner.com" target="_blank"> ross blackener </a>print in her office on loan from <a href="https://paulsonfontainepress.com" target="_blank">paulson fontaine press</a>. apparently her husband is friends with ms. fontaine. small world. actually this connection made me instantly feel better. </p><p>i DO NOT look at the needles. the second she comes to put the first one in my third eye, my eyes shut. the first time tightly. the last time, just shut. i wonder if someday i'll even be able to look [i doubt it]. </p><p>i don't want to be an advocate for a rah rah overcome your fears and all will be well... but this has been interesting to say the least. even with just a few sessions i can feel a difference. my hands aren't falling asleep when i sleep [and i don't have to wear the god awful braces on my wrists all night long. they woke me up even if they were working]. </p><p>the biggest thing is that lying still for a half hour with my eyes closed in a warm room is such a gift. i very rarely stop in a day. as i've gotten older i've had to slow down. and i sometimes literally have to close my eyes and cat nap in a chair [don't laugh young-uns. it will happen to you too. you also won't be able to pull an all nighter]. </p><p>it hasn't all been a bed of roses. after one treatment i had a frankenarm for almost 24 hours. it was like my hand was disconnected from my arm. i could feel things in it and i could drive and pick things up, but it felt like my hand wasn't connected to my body. and it all kind of ached. but in the end it felt better. some of the dull ache around my elbow was gone. </p><p>do i claim to understand the wonders of chi/energy and how this all works. NOPE. but i don't really need to. and even if it's psychosomatic - the key is that it's working. and so my friends i am willing to be a vodoo doll occasionally and try and turn of the drum of i really hate needles, i really hate needles, i really hate needles in my brain. also it is NOT lost on me that my last show has pins literally sticking out around me as i pinned clothing on. very reminiscent of these acupuncture needles. oh universe. </p>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-66959614962753162122022-10-21T01:48:00.002-07:002022-12-01T13:04:28.943-08:00but where are you FROM from? <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAs7YvG38hM2QS8OQkGDMs0TDt3CiJvrDyqFan1oQr_H5-AnmWnbkpIYbw74tlQvvRqxxO5WNUVvnMOh5NCqT5Y32F0E13LmYMNJ_lsOCh4H7hzMyBKKTWjUBtSsqctnvMOJPLMt3ZIYiTETTnVa_o9rDKcC_GYPaMkV_YK68uUjzBeQ80V8/s4032/1743B1AE-A3E3-4E75-91DB-6B2E561681D2_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAs7YvG38hM2QS8OQkGDMs0TDt3CiJvrDyqFan1oQr_H5-AnmWnbkpIYbw74tlQvvRqxxO5WNUVvnMOh5NCqT5Y32F0E13LmYMNJ_lsOCh4H7hzMyBKKTWjUBtSsqctnvMOJPLMt3ZIYiTETTnVa_o9rDKcC_GYPaMkV_YK68uUjzBeQ80V8/w480-h640/1743B1AE-A3E3-4E75-91DB-6B2E561681D2_1_201_a.heic" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">but where are you FROM from - not tibet, 2022, watercolor, embroidery and paper on Yupo, 14"x11"</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>i am making new work for a show that opens quite soon at <a href="http://www.waltermacielgallery.com">walter maciel gallery</a>. [opening is nov. 5th from 3-7pm and i'll be giving a short walk thru/talk at the start]. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">this might be the most personal work i've ever made. ok. let's rephrase - all art is personal. even if you think it's not. it is. you choose the color, the media, the technique - all of that is influenced by your existence and experience. what you gravitate toward, how you know [or don't] how materials work. what excites you... </span></div><p></p><p>but for this show i'm literally painting self-portraits. if someone from now came and spoke to my past self and said - oh just wait until the day you do a whole show of yourself i would have laughed in their face. first of all PEOPLE? i don't paint people [i broke that rule with my last show - although i really started breaking it in grad school when i embroidered some portraits]. second of all self portraits? i HATE them. but i have done them occasionally and it's definitely necessary for this show]. </p><p>i think in the past i hated painting people and more specifically myself because i didn't have the skill to do it the way i envisioned in my mind. and even more because i was scared. what if it isn't recognizable? </p><p>i definitely believe that when you make art the best stuff tends to come when you are scared or feel a bit out of sorts. like you know your idea is sound, but not sure you have the technique. or you have the technique, but have to shift how you use it. there's something about being off balance that allows you to enter a new space and make decisions you might not normally do. this helps the work. almost always. it at least pushes you in a direction that perhaps you wouldn't have fathomed in comfort and familiarity. </p><p>complacency can lead to boredom which often can lead to boring art. i didn't get into this [art making] to repeat myself over and over until i can't make things anymore. to be sure, there is something to be said about consistency and cohesion and for doing what you love over and over. repetition isn't a bad thing [says the person who makes 1000+ of the same thing] but when it isn't wrapped up or in with some kind of exploration, learning, discovery, sharing... i often ask what is the point? </p><p>my whole entire life people have assumed or asked me if i'm from places that i have no personal tie to. maybe i've visited that place. maybe i haven't. there are people who have asked where i'm from out of pure curiosity and genuine interest - perhaps a desire to find a common ground. there are those that want to put me in a box, or "understand" something - as if my ethnic heritage will put me in a place where they can see where i'm coming from. or they need that info to decide something about me for themselves. there have been moments where it is inherently racist. or fetishistic. there are some - like a Vietnamese barista - who insisted i look like their sister. and then when he brought in a picture to prove it - indeed i did. this fostered a sense of connection, not alienation. people come up to me and speak in their native tongues, surprised when i can't answer. </p><p>i have tried multiple approaches to answer the question where are you from? sometimes i say where i'm born [arizona] which often leads people to assume i'm native american. sometimes i ignore the question and divert. or i walk away. sometimes i try to make the person asking squirm - esp when something like - you are so exotic looking comes out of their mouth. when i was young i had no response. no witty retort to something to profoundly offensive. now i either snap back or smile big and reply like a dancer or a spice? don't even get me started on the times when i've been referred to as oriental - yeah. like a rug or a vase. </p><p>appearing multi racial, or put more simply NON WHITE, but often not what people think i am, has lead to some really interesting conversations. it's also been confusing. it's challenging to hover between people's expectations and cultural frameworks. i'm not "american" enough for some - and when i'm in japan i'm definitely not "japanese". i have cellular memory experiences or moments of what feels like complete understanding and synchronicity in japanese spaces, but am still so very white, jewish and american. i'm not seen as "white" but also am not not white. i am privileged and with all the cream in my coffee have a point of view that isn't brown or asian enough for some. </p><p>there is something to be said for being surrounded by those like you. some of my closest friends are also blended. or have married someone outside their cultural experience. i feel "home" in hawaii where so many are mixed and people are surprised we're from the mainland. but really it's hard for someone who isn't combo'd somehow to understand some of the nuance of this experience. </p><p>so this show is about THAT. about being seen as french, hmong, hopi, south american, indigenous, european, etc. etc. i made a list of all the places that people have assumed i'm from, or the languages that people have spoken to me [especially in airports]. then i made a list of the places of my true heritage -japan, russia, lithuania, romania and poland. </p><p>i started by looking at western traditional portraiture. think manet, vermeer, sergeant. how do the women pose, stand, where are their hands, what are the looks on their faces - usually not smiles. then i took photos of myself copying those ideals. i painted the images in watercolor in black and white. </p><p>i also took photos of myself in a "mug shot" fashion. head on, 3/4 and profile view. because i have 5 "true" ethnic identities, i thought using this framework would be good. japanese in the middle. in the "real" place portraits i painted life size and in color to contrast with the black and white.</p><p>then began the process of researching traditional clothing of the places people think i'm from. this was actually trickier than i expected as some places have multiple ethnic groups within them or borders have shifted and/or traditions have been lost or changed. i actually enjoyed this research so much. it took me back to my days when i was a costume designer and had to look at the history of fashion. i began pairing the portraits with regions. oh - i look more asian in this one, or more latina, or more european. </p><p>i then painted the outfit of the area - this was such a fun process. when i paint i realize i look for that balance between something looking real and something being painted. i want people to KNOW it's paint. i want it not to be photo realistic, but still have the feel of the real thing. that's the space that excites me the most. </p><p>and in an act of mimicking paper dolls, i pinned the clothing on top of my portrait. completing my transformation and becoming the ethnic group that had been pinned on me. </p><p>it's funny because this whole process reminds me that i started my artist journey very interested in costumes and even contemplated that as a field of employment. i did a lot of costume design in college - and if it didn't involve working with a lot of clashing huge and fragile egos i definitely could have pursued it. </p><p>if you are in LA the opening will be from 3-7 on Saturday, November 5th, 2022. i'll be giving a little talk/walk thru at 3pm. i'll be posting images of the show first on my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lisasolomon/" target="_blank">instagram</a> account and then on my <a href="http://www.lisasolomon.com" target="_blank">website</a> [which finally got an overhaul this year]. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-5156258776012695262022-09-01T13:11:00.087-07:002022-09-03T09:46:02.996-07:00what do you wear to say goodbye?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3CM5hAVOl9pbygKshLAqwHeqM37qgDXeEqsDwBNiniHNoqaRGsc_vs1ci3xD0gZuEWL2UGtix6w3UQ-QdxLuoPh93IIngGjwKXfq94QrTMevIi-lfd_d1JlJfUqyWtHs5c_4D32-JGdW-CBINxAhJvlL9hwJsJMdDzdSfTsk42B9Vzyls0s/s4032/D48711FC-3A38-41F3-A349-AD2BDD56199C.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3CM5hAVOl9pbygKshLAqwHeqM37qgDXeEqsDwBNiniHNoqaRGsc_vs1ci3xD0gZuEWL2UGtix6w3UQ-QdxLuoPh93IIngGjwKXfq94QrTMevIi-lfd_d1JlJfUqyWtHs5c_4D32-JGdW-CBINxAhJvlL9hwJsJMdDzdSfTsk42B9Vzyls0s/w480-h640/D48711FC-3A38-41F3-A349-AD2BDD56199C.heic" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>at some point in your life you will have to confront death. it could be when you are young - the loss of a first pet, a grandparent [or someone like a grandparent]. it could be as you get older - parents, mentors, more pets... as death becomes something more familiar, you begin to have coping mechanisms, routines, strategies that you rely on. you might <a href="https://amzn.to/3KrX6A2" target="_blank">read books</a><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> ((this is an affiliate link to amazon))</span> that help you process grief and loss. you might feel comfortable offering someone else a shoulder to cry on when they confront loss. we all intellectually know that death is an inevitable part of life. that heart ache is more than just a phrase as your chest pounds and your eyes swell. <div><br /></div><div>also as you get older you start to notice things. knowing that death is coming might help you cope. you might intuitively know when someone passes. some people hang on. some people go freely. some deaths are harder - those that are accidental, sudden, unexpected or feel too soon and hit like a ton of bricks. for whatever reason the person having a long life may give solace and comfort. the inevitability of death doesn't seem fair, but it feels justified. </div><div><br /></div><div>and here i sit. confronting the loss of a friend. my peer. someone i've known for much of my adult life. someone who has been woven into my family - coming to thanksgiving and christmas. someone who i could count on to help with my child. to go on dog walks with. to complain about being and artist and self employed. someone whose dark humor matched my own. someone whose aesthetics were impeccable. someone who always managed to find the most thoughtful and perfect gifts. i looked forward to any present from her. wrapped beautiful, seamlessly fitting into my horde of things.... not just someone i knew casually but someone who while maybe we didn't share our deepest secrets, we had a camaraderie that was genuine and true. </div><div><br /></div><div>the other day i had to decide that it was time to let her go. she has no real living family except for an aunt who she reconnected after the death of her own mother. and a long distance 1/2 brother who she hadn't spoken to in years. that's it. she started a health directive and i was listed. this was good enough for me, the hospital and the aunt. i had to make a decision that she couldn't make. i consulted with her friends. the aunt. my husband and friends. my morality. the support i have received from those close to me is indescribable. it's hard to know what to say when people say what can i do to help and there isn't a concrete answer to that. other than tell me i'm doing the right thing. tell me i'm doing what they would want. what they deserve. what is humane. </div><div><br /></div><div>the night before, after the decision was made to stop any measures keeping her alive i couldn't sleep. and then this ridiculous thought got stuck in my brain. what the hell am i going to wear? i mean i will remember this outfit. it's not going to be "tainted" but every time i put on XXX i will know that is what i wore as i went to hold your hand as they made you comfortable. this isn't a funeral. or an "event". i don't really want to remember every detail. and then in delirium of late night dark humor i giggled. because for a moment i thought that she might actually have the same thought. is the scarf too much? i shouldn't wear a bright color. i don't want to dress up or dress down too much. our brains are so weird. i mean i'm kind of curious how many people would even think this thought. just me? a handful? a lot of people? </div><div><br /></div><div>what the hell do you wear to say goodbye to the dying? </div><div><br /></div><div>i honestly don't know. so i picked a gray shirt she actually gave me. because i already associate it with her. and my lockets. the ones i keep as a mini shrines to the pets and people lost. they all came with. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-90915712185531246362022-06-07T11:28:00.001-07:002022-06-07T11:28:26.176-07:00come watercolor with me in a beautiful setting<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-uPs3GgW47dd01xTQuubWl0BcklW4sXX7Qp8ykQWduyN5TUqj_OOE0tLab67hLzZbqsHFmOhTqAZyzsOOMr07_b_ocb0NEb_oV9rfyfqcDnyAzSbkfZyGWYf_hR3VjrN2bqYlMik5_V-MyPQ6emmQIcmnN2-oByYrRYgID_g4nIFpV-bGkk/s1800/9F2C9C78-80EB-4751-9D3E-3BACF6A4C562.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-uPs3GgW47dd01xTQuubWl0BcklW4sXX7Qp8ykQWduyN5TUqj_OOE0tLab67hLzZbqsHFmOhTqAZyzsOOMr07_b_ocb0NEb_oV9rfyfqcDnyAzSbkfZyGWYf_hR3VjrN2bqYlMik5_V-MyPQ6emmQIcmnN2-oByYrRYgID_g4nIFpV-bGkk/w320-h400/9F2C9C78-80EB-4751-9D3E-3BACF6A4C562.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">OH HI. it's been a minute. a very very long minute. where many things seemed a bit groundhog day in nature [like returning to teaching online for a spell. don't get me started on that]. to counteract that sinking feeling i'm happy to announce this amazing in person watercolor course at <a href="https://www.madelineartschool.com/product/a-field-guide-to-color-a-watercolor-and-color-theory-workshop/" target="_blank">Madeline Island School </a>in what might be one of the nicest settings i'll ever teach in. see for yourself :: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwS9Xvrjt74Ou0qHdMihxSflvWmi13NMLQRWehparnf8mYpPNNnYTn2ifXpTYoGFhySVcq7tMDHDk0dRwLLpPbG6c83hKTGkHrIsDQUo_dur6Hoe3lp8BaJQY1BVBNNDW0sk1orFhiYHElN-dmBcIYc6iN1KUJZGCRsPpCkEhhA2-ynav5afY/s5472/F85AC40B-BC6A-4629-A8A6-C8DA1D75E86A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwS9Xvrjt74Ou0qHdMihxSflvWmi13NMLQRWehparnf8mYpPNNnYTn2ifXpTYoGFhySVcq7tMDHDk0dRwLLpPbG6c83hKTGkHrIsDQUo_dur6Hoe3lp8BaJQY1BVBNNDW0sk1orFhiYHElN-dmBcIYc6iN1KUJZGCRsPpCkEhhA2-ynav5afY/w400-h266/F85AC40B-BC6A-4629-A8A6-C8DA1D75E86A.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_W7xFDgaS0PJMVggcNhTvIy9oQhWuCxuvNihkJxusjgxmb5Y_I_rP_fWxLJ9SJ5c-eGUJrQI7J9oJRJA7V5tkq579sFHKb3WTeF9hTZg-oU84nxn1RN8yLrR9I-M-XmJx4syIpKIrbg1GU9NXHD7j--Twvcs2M-FiQ3iHvYAhZ85tR70CH20/s1686/B3043711-7287-48E7-B4AD-F53F0EFC7DA9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1239" data-original-width="1686" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_W7xFDgaS0PJMVggcNhTvIy9oQhWuCxuvNihkJxusjgxmb5Y_I_rP_fWxLJ9SJ5c-eGUJrQI7J9oJRJA7V5tkq579sFHKb3WTeF9hTZg-oU84nxn1RN8yLrR9I-M-XmJx4syIpKIrbg1GU9NXHD7j--Twvcs2M-FiQ3iHvYAhZ85tR70CH20/w400-h294/B3043711-7287-48E7-B4AD-F53F0EFC7DA9.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7w0UdX5eJl9QfZu803k6HGYt9KMJ2b4LQ-MXswj7Yy2dwqoSUdNdPdCOpT2y_LxUSbb5ITJTBvR2gzu-DuptQY2bwQEfjA9ntQ4jLybGkVTtapmiVASSeklimuXkQtNurntkHEf5R4Hef7TDdbV7MrrFiQYpwPuMLWny1bB2T8SiwPAdTIiM/s1528/8EF58A50-09CD-4ADE-ABFF-2ADE28B585B4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1528" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7w0UdX5eJl9QfZu803k6HGYt9KMJ2b4LQ-MXswj7Yy2dwqoSUdNdPdCOpT2y_LxUSbb5ITJTBvR2gzu-DuptQY2bwQEfjA9ntQ4jLybGkVTtapmiVASSeklimuXkQtNurntkHEf5R4Hef7TDdbV7MrrFiQYpwPuMLWny1bB2T8SiwPAdTIiM/w283-h400/8EF58A50-09CD-4ADE-ABFF-2ADE28B585B4.jpeg" width="283" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivDNxlgqpXFGv_CM_mHeH_y9iUdudOE3eyKJ8D2fdUP76gXJIAF_WtzjimzFfELgnC90Vt4DKm2Yg2i9Y1aqY26eBYIRVXciJ7atd1KjoAhW0o3hLLhywnXfFh6aHJH5AwJ8vMtejy8MOztHbaUjvuUmveVK8_BCKOhnC1rfAPuomigzeZq0/s2000/2C02068B-2283-4DE2-9333-1A1B5198C9C2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivDNxlgqpXFGv_CM_mHeH_y9iUdudOE3eyKJ8D2fdUP76gXJIAF_WtzjimzFfELgnC90Vt4DKm2Yg2i9Y1aqY26eBYIRVXciJ7atd1KjoAhW0o3hLLhywnXfFh6aHJH5AwJ8vMtejy8MOztHbaUjvuUmveVK8_BCKOhnC1rfAPuomigzeZq0/w400-h266/2C02068B-2283-4DE2-9333-1A1B5198C9C2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div>yes. i want to be there. and apparently august is one of the nicest times of year. so... i'll be condensing my semester long watercolor course into a 5 day extravaganza. [with a whole heck of a lot of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/lscolormeditation/" target="_blank">color meditating</a> going on too]. we paint all day - we'll take walks, paint plein air and i'll show you a lot of tricks. you can ask me any questions and we can figure all kinds of things out together. and we'll make cool looking charts. because i love charts</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnc_oau46Xuu-wfGEbGipuu-JIQEhxVp0cfUGGCejeinhgZfq4xfCen8ZCd7h-s9mo4i4XeBqhLN1MbgOMggiz703oQda19bkQhCB5h-LpthE1utoE2ZdleLnF6r6893meUlL8lcoWiqSMxRC_Z0BTLwUFRB-WJGV8_cqFE6SgxvE72c3-BGY/s1764/IMG_7753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1764" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnc_oau46Xuu-wfGEbGipuu-JIQEhxVp0cfUGGCejeinhgZfq4xfCen8ZCd7h-s9mo4i4XeBqhLN1MbgOMggiz703oQda19bkQhCB5h-LpthE1utoE2ZdleLnF6r6893meUlL8lcoWiqSMxRC_Z0BTLwUFRB-WJGV8_cqFE6SgxvE72c3-BGY/w326-h400/IMG_7753.JPG" width="326" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">FYI you can stay on the campus [they have all kinds of rooming rates] or you can find your own lodging or commute in - Minneapolis is close by.... hope to see you there ! <a href="https://www.madelineartschool.com/product/a-field-guide-to-color-a-watercolor-and-color-theory-workshop/" target="_blank">REGISTER HERE</a></div><div><br /></div>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-43697349503968250632021-07-11T10:06:00.002-07:002021-07-12T10:25:26.733-07:00the loss of feeling refreshed<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCGvEFt6OU7-PdJ1OmPOnCbd7L9CAV6BQ2LvMXXZXxlA5JkNxiJgnw6mxX5m5FVgk6QTPwQt810zxV5CXz9sP-oZ4qYRlK3GahCgkVNNfO7T9EbDBXsjs7CIEONgseVddAYfP-w/s2048/6C7EB266-5274-4B44-BAC6-B706BB7F7F24.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCGvEFt6OU7-PdJ1OmPOnCbd7L9CAV6BQ2LvMXXZXxlA5JkNxiJgnw6mxX5m5FVgk6QTPwQt810zxV5CXz9sP-oZ4qYRlK3GahCgkVNNfO7T9EbDBXsjs7CIEONgseVddAYfP-w/w480-h640/6C7EB266-5274-4B44-BAC6-B706BB7F7F24.heic" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">often when i hang out with the little before they go to bed gyoza here comes and sits with me. he's one of the sweetest creatures i've ever met. he has a very loud and comforting purr. he chirps and meows and rolls over. when he's really in the mood he will climb on top of me, continually rub into me, and plop down on my chest or lap as if to prevent me from leaving. watch out though. don't scratch is butt too much or he goes insane and might attack. otherwise he's a ball of love. kissing my nose and eyebrows and forever grateful for all chin scratches. last night i told him how appreciative i was of his continual love. many evenings over the last 16 months he has distracted me by his demand for touch and care. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgPlEWrinZQ5QcZ_aXpeo0cNM6cuxvMjW2V8jOSAN9OmApab44A0DmaR_6Itfr6-VVXIl0gkljL6udImMD7cvlnEjvHCYy_lk2ftng5QuIioDfHeJOfMebmvBT2qxY90lOqBlFg/s1440/761657FA-9A5A-4EB3-8BA0-23BEEEDFAEA8.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="1440" height="608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgPlEWrinZQ5QcZ_aXpeo0cNM6cuxvMjW2V8jOSAN9OmApab44A0DmaR_6Itfr6-VVXIl0gkljL6udImMD7cvlnEjvHCYy_lk2ftng5QuIioDfHeJOfMebmvBT2qxY90lOqBlFg/w640-h608/761657FA-9A5A-4EB3-8BA0-23BEEEDFAEA8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a chromatic wonder by teresita fernandez @sfmoma</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">as i've slowly wandered out from the cocoon of home - a few outdoor eating experiences, a return to a museum, chats with real life humans IN FRONT OF ME - no brain working overtime to understand societal cues over the ether and across screens... one thing has become abundantly clear. while many of us are incredibly fortunate to have survived the pandemic relatively unscathed [i think new understandings of trauma and ways to speak about it are in order] we do not quite have the words to describe how we are doing. we ask. we mean well. we really want to know. we want to connect. we want to comfort. when i mention some of the really hard and sad things that have happened over this year i feel silly. no one in my immediate family contracted covid. we have food, shelter even lysol, toilet paper, and no threat of a building collapse. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the answer i keep sharing, because it's truthful, but hopefully doesn't come off as ungrateful is - i'm fine. but every morning i wake up thinking this will be the day i wake up refreshed, but instead i just keep waking up tired. nothing i do - i've been doing yoga in the mornings. i even have done nothing - literally nothing - for days on end, drinking more water, eating healthy, taking vitamins, getting more sleep has changed this. granted i am waking up slightly less exhausted, but feeling refreshed? nope. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">everytime i say this, a flash of complete recognition appears on the face before me. i'm not sure if i feel better or worse that this is a universal experience. it just is what it is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and i can't seem to write my way out. or art my way out. or sleep my way out. at least not yet</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH36PQwm7W2lzHnBzWfSSTQMikDyPTf7ldeMbtVk9a-FC3FtWd8y1PdlRiJPAoce1BdDBypEBj_itekhhS2dImul6_jL1PLOsdThpXAIn_cmca37qs95N2sXzxN7v1-hOPgBGO4Q/s2048/712B9022-DE22-4782-8F53-B014F53276BD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH36PQwm7W2lzHnBzWfSSTQMikDyPTf7ldeMbtVk9a-FC3FtWd8y1PdlRiJPAoce1BdDBypEBj_itekhhS2dImul6_jL1PLOsdThpXAIn_cmca37qs95N2sXzxN7v1-hOPgBGO4Q/w480-h640/712B9022-DE22-4782-8F53-B014F53276BD.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-63695869955173116672021-02-09T13:53:00.001-08:002021-02-09T15:29:33.960-08:00the loss of solitude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeUQAUzw0gjTAdpHyZee9bGeNo4u31vwEZrUIl6IAft8p4NTdGl4MMpVdttYxgepaACPB66jQerLLAiYyINMzByxPnVOlrWrPDKleeYuaVernHQeVIiDHcf1BJw66dIbTOqTf3w/s4032/61EF161B-B8EC-4D6F-893A-863C689F8088.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeUQAUzw0gjTAdpHyZee9bGeNo4u31vwEZrUIl6IAft8p4NTdGl4MMpVdttYxgepaACPB66jQerLLAiYyINMzByxPnVOlrWrPDKleeYuaVernHQeVIiDHcf1BJw66dIbTOqTf3w/w640-h480/61EF161B-B8EC-4D6F-893A-863C689F8088.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>my oh my we are coming upon a year of actively dealing with a global pandemic. one that millions of people - at least here in the US - still seem convinced isn't real and in this defiance won't wear masks, or do the things we need to do to stop this in its tracks. [i do firmly believe that 4-6 weeks of us all wearing N95s - if we could get them - and social distancing as we vaccinate would actually get us over the hump. it's so simple and yet so absolutely unattainable]. instead this purgatory seems to drag on in perpetuity while we wait in line for vaccines that may or may not work as well against the new variants which may or may not cause more illness and death. </p><p>in the land of silly trivia related to this - my hair is longer than it's been in 30 years. double masking is the new black, i've started a digital drawing <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/alphabetflowerproject/" target="_blank">#alphabetflowerproject</a>, and i've managed to figure out how to teach two new classes virtually. there still is no good answer to the oft asked question - HOW DO YOU TEACH ART ONLINE? it just is what it is. zoom fatigue continues to be real and continues to become a sadder and sadder state of being. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOW_1-vms4NccoHCv7c8UscnclsmacR_QgGLrQDMb4prGXrsGhFhZdN3SwLPxJFIPn6SyIOeyKYh7IGa1DBv9FFVNG04ZqDNfIMi-8zaRHI-awCVyrCZEXcG9alCJnL_hVLJ4fA/s4032/700518F6-1261-475E-862B-35C6BAD53F43.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOW_1-vms4NccoHCv7c8UscnclsmacR_QgGLrQDMb4prGXrsGhFhZdN3SwLPxJFIPn6SyIOeyKYh7IGa1DBv9FFVNG04ZqDNfIMi-8zaRHI-awCVyrCZEXcG9alCJnL_hVLJ4fA/w480-h640/700518F6-1261-475E-862B-35C6BAD53F43.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>the other day i facetimed with <a href="http://emilygainesdemsky.com/blog-1">a friend </a>who continually inspires me with her ability to find good in places where it seems none exists. and who also doesn't deny the absurdness or pain of our situation and who has in this last year especially been confronting her own privilege in a way i admire. she asked if i was making anything.... i paused.... pregnantly... </p><p>it would be a lie to say i'm not doing anything creatively. i am. i wrote a book [due out later this year i think]. i'm working on another color meditation project as a follow up to <a href="https://www.roostbooks.com/authors/o-t/lisa-solomon/a-field-guide-to-color.html" target="_blank">A Field Guide to Color</a>. i finished [but still need to send off] the quilt for <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/thechromachronicles/">#thechromachronicles</a>. i started a granny square blanket. i'm working on a 30 day sashiko class for <a href="http://bit.ly/CB_lisasolomon">creative bug</a>. i completed a knot commission. i'm beginning to work on another soon. i designed a poster for the <a href="https://www.vox.com/culture/21294431/new-deal-wpa-federal-art-project-coronavirus">WPA </a>!! (yes it still exists. yes. it is paying artists for their work. yes. yes.yes.)</p><p>and yet....</p><p>NO. i have not made any work. at least it feels to me not really. a project i started is stalled. i still want to do it - which is good. it still feels relevant - well hallelujah. but i can not really work on it. and why is this you ask [and i ask myself]? because i don't have the most underrated, underappreciated, underwhelming commodity. solitude. </p><p>there have been countless articles and thoughts about how the pandemic is<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/04/parenting/working-moms-mental-health-coronavirus.html?searchResultPosition=1"> affecting women</a>. and it does indeed seem trivial to talk about wanting and needing alone time when people are being forced to work in unsafe situations. when people are literally getting sick and dying. when people can't make their rent. </p><p>but here i am. i have always been an extroverted introvert. i love my time with my family and with my friends, but i also crave alone time. and not just an hour stolen here or there. chunks of it. these chunks allow me to get my art done. to do the research. to stumble, fail, climb the hill of perpetuity that eventually leads to something to share with other humans. i have come to guard my studio time like the precious commodity it is. i always knew i needed it. i always knew it was how i got things done. and yet there is nothing like the absolute loss of it to have it hit home how much i have been so lucky to have it. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5VMJQj3Fcvv69E3jneJNbiTFE1BZuf-m3aOZIKTWLGawVrueO4tMX2QQ68n4IKJ3JFtYBM18LauaetZc4b04oJUbjAxNq3AHXI-gB1HowRDIo2Ux1UtUfds0SJMPpvPhDk8WAQ/s2048/F3A60744-F4ED-4867-BE1C-A9ABB003A2AF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5VMJQj3Fcvv69E3jneJNbiTFE1BZuf-m3aOZIKTWLGawVrueO4tMX2QQ68n4IKJ3JFtYBM18LauaetZc4b04oJUbjAxNq3AHXI-gB1HowRDIo2Ux1UtUfds0SJMPpvPhDk8WAQ/w640-h480/F3A60744-F4ED-4867-BE1C-A9ABB003A2AF.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p>the last time i mourned it was after the birth of my daughter. and i pretty quickly found a way to get at least 4 hours a week of it back. and then as she grew preschool and school bought me more and more of it. but this last year complete solitude for a considerable amount of time has been unattainable. yes, while my daughter is in her classes i have some time to work. to do the enormous amount of work necessary to keep my own classes afloat (it is so much more work to teach this way. please be kind and grateful to the teachers of your children). to write and edit and fulfill the obligations i have committed to. but it isn't really alone time. my kid, while incredibly independent and autonomous still has needs. she's kicked out of zoom. she looses something, she would like someone else to make her a snack - all reasonable things that i want to help her with. but those small interruptions prevent me from <i>really </i>working. </p><p>oh yes. i can compartmentalize with the best of them, but i work best when i know i am ALONE. no one else home. no possibility of someone interrupting me. my phone on do not disturb. out in my studio (in which my kiddo sits doing her school as i type this) by myself. it may seem strange to some people. why can't you work when you are basically left alone?? dear reader it is the potential of interruption that is so profoundly altering. because if i am in my work. really IN IT and someone rushes in to ask me a question, or even to do something kind like bring me a treat, i loose that moment. that indescribable moment where everything aligns and some kind of alchemy occurs and things get made. if it's a new or challenging project that moment can't be paused. i can't get it back. maybe it's like being in the zone with sports. i don't really know because i don't play sports but i think this analogy works. where you watch someone who is just unstoppable and scores at will and then as suddenly as it came on - it goes - and they are no longer a magical creature. the mere threat of interruption holds me back. i can't get into the mental space i need to. i can do what i already know how to do. or i can do busy work - the repetitive stuff that is so often a huge part of what i make, but anything that requires that little bit of magic. nope. </p><p>and so. i adapt. i do what i can. i mourn the loss of solitude along with the loss of so many other things big and small. important and not that this bizarre historical moment we are living through presents us with. and i share this in case you too are mourning the loss of solitude. </p>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-20500614307741058442020-10-22T14:34:00.003-07:002020-10-23T07:56:34.078-07:00the contemplation of a looming loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupsKo4tZrSQzc40p7luuivil9hsZp8RUMyEgAnjU0IMNl_SrcZ6aE-xeBjNs4DPFmGVQqmFFvEYApszTBpYjNekMbV5rr6oTCGpXghApPduDsf8RiNMr03sg9b8QNcYG_9lTbZg/s1024/E4E714B0-67D5-433D-8C88-21CDD43C5065.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="1024" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupsKo4tZrSQzc40p7luuivil9hsZp8RUMyEgAnjU0IMNl_SrcZ6aE-xeBjNs4DPFmGVQqmFFvEYApszTBpYjNekMbV5rr6oTCGpXghApPduDsf8RiNMr03sg9b8QNcYG_9lTbZg/w640-h398/E4E714B0-67D5-433D-8C88-21CDD43C5065.jpeg" title="photo by jordan" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">photo by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/photobickett/" target="_blank">jordan</a></div><p><br /></p><p>i stopped thinking that 2020 was going to get any easier, any better, any more reliable, or any more hopeful around when ... may? 2 months into semi quarantine, no end in sight. wrapping up a semester from hell where mid stream we moved online and no one was ready or prepared and the workload was easily 10x what it was in face to face teaching. kid also stuck at home. not really distance learning, but instead distance time killing. screens used as babysitter, semi-teacher, waster of time, research device and holder of remembrance to a time when you could leave the house without a mask.</p><p>maybe it really gelled right around the time i wrote that <a href="http://lisasolomon-musings.blogspot.com/2020/05/in-middle-of-night-i-contemplated-loss.html">first post on loss</a>. i wanted to find a way to be stoic, to be as zen as possible. to be open to the idea that emotional labor and instability were going to be the swan songs of the year and that somehow i would be able to write my way out [yes that is a hamilton reference], or at least handle it all with a little bit of grace. </p><p>still, frankly i have been shocked at the depths to which 2020 has sunk. the barrage of upsetting and mind blowing circumstances that have stacked themselves upon one another to form a bizarre jenga like tower of a mess. where not only is nothing stable, the word unprecedented has lost its meaning through commonality, and brain fog has moved from being an occasional annoyance to a constant companion. the saving grace here is that every.single.person.i.know is suffering this fog too. so we all search for words and intelligence in never ending zoom meetings, emails and texts with a baseline of oh yeah we're all just not at our best, and who the F cares. the staggering amount of loss or calling a spade a space - death - unnecessary, aching, terrible death - let alone the loss of jobs, housing, school, etc. has moved beyond what we had hoped was a temporary trauma into something that i feel like many of us [those of us who chosen to not pretend like everything is find and pull the blinders on even tighter] don't even have the language to adequately describe. i can't help but think that even those of us [<a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2020/08/jesmyn-ward-on-husbands-death-and-grief-during-covid" target="_blank">looking at your jessamyn ward</a>] who can somehow write a way out, seem to then be confronted by a rug pulled out from us. </p><p>and so i am here. with my fog. trying to think about how to confront the looming loss of mildred. our family pit bull. in some ways she is the light of the house. always friendly. always looking at you with her amber eyes seemingly hung up on every word you have to say to her. the tail that thumps slowly as she realizes you are speaking to her. then faster and harder as she KNOWS you are speaking to her. lover of yogurt. picker upper of toys to greet you with. extreme licker - like stick her tongue up your nose if you let her excited lover of a girl. she has lymphoma. when she got scoped the dr. said it was surprising she was able to eat at all as lesions lined her esophagus, stomach and intestines. </p><p>and so we hospice. steroids, meds to coat, ani nausea meds on the ready... any and all foods on the table. i cook for her 3x a day like a good mother should. practically praying that she will want ham, hamburger, chicken, sausage, hotdogs, meatballs, bone broth, eggs, cheese, crackers, whatever in the loving world she will take and holding my breath that she keeps it down. knowing that we are just biding time. that every day we have to be thankful and that it is all "extra". and i speak to our 11 year old about how the loss of a best friend [her words] is indeed wholly unfair. and she is too young. and yes you had thought she would be there for you through high school and OH MY GOD 2020 is the worst possible year ever. and i curse that there is no possible reason that we deserve this loss on top of all the other loss. all the other stress, all the other other that has happened this year and surrounds us daily. </p><p>and so we brace - for the wave of grief. for the literal way our heart will ache. and we say what we always say. the love is worth the loss. and it is. but i'd be lying if i in a minute i'd bargain my way into some deal that would allow a longer stay from this grief if i could. if there was a magic wand, or a genie with a wish, or some kind of trade that i could make.</p><p>when there seems to be utterly no point, what is the point? what is the meaning? what is the reason? the undeserved of what feels like a punishingly amount of too much? i have no answer for that. but i do see the point of being vulnerable. to not letting the despair win completely and for taking a minute to say... I SEE YOU. i see you grief. i see you fear. i see you loss. and i see those of you that share in this. and for now that simply has to be enough. </p>lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-22998537812207640082020-05-15T21:13:00.000-07:002020-05-16T09:49:32.484-07:00loss of a parent [not mine]<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Agari-fuji - Japanese Patterns of Design" src="https://www.patternz.jp/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/Agari-fuji.gif" /></div>
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if we have had a conversation about first memories then this is not a new story for you. but my take on it has evolved so maybe i can preserve a bit of your interest.<br />
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what i <i>actually</i> think i remember - which is distilled and diluted through 40+ years of telling, re-telling, re-membering, hearing my mom's version... is really a series of fleeting but haunting images, smells, and sounds.<br />
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this whole project obviously has me rethinking how we arrive at and wade through loss. and in the middle of that night when this was all born i couldn't help but think - my first memory is a loss. not mine. not one whose complexity i understood <i>at all</i> when it happened. but a loss nonetheless.<br />
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i was 2-ish. my mother and i had flown to japan to go to her mother's funeral. i don't remember this clearly, but apparently we had to run thru the airport. i do sort of have this vague hazy image of a green/blue small tiled striped hallway at LAX [maybe it was another airport]. but i think that is my mom's part of the story. we were running to make up for lost time. [aka we were late].<br />
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i do remember her in a black kimono. with a white crest [similar to wisteria one above]. i do remember her being so very very sad. i remember tears [i do not remember tears from my mother too often]. i remember a smell [i think it's tatami. tatami to me is the essence of a japanese smell. there's also a japanese wood smell. i don't know what kind of wood it is. it's kind of like an incense. it's not overpowering. sometimes when you get something from japan when you first open it you smell this smell i'm trying so poorly to describe. my mom tends to look at me sideways when i smell things and say it smells like japan]. i remember a buddhist monk sitting in a middle of a room. chanting. we all sat around him. i thought the chanting would never end. i remember knowing that i should be quiet and not fidget. i don't know if i pulled that off. i think i felt the importance of this ritual... i think i felt the <i>loss</i> in the room. [but had no vocabulary or no real way to express that].<br />
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when i think about this now. i think about my mom. then 27-ish. who had moved away, so very far away, from her home to be with my dad. to start a different life. who had a young child. who then didn't have her mother. if i imagine my own life without my mother when my child was small.... my eyes swell and my heart starts to beat faster and my brain darts from fear to denial to relief that wasn't my path. or my daughter's.<br />
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i could speak to the loss of not having that grandmother. i wonder how my life might have been influenced by her.<br />
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but really i slide into the time when i did in fact contemplate my life without my mother. i was 20-ish. she was diagnosed with breast cancer. back then my eyes swelled and my heart beat fast and there wasn't any relief. until she made it through chemo. and then a year. and then 5 years. and i remember figuring out [also in the middle of the night] that when you think you are going to loose or as you frantically look for something you have lost, you hold your breath. holding your breath helps you fight back those tears. holding your breath is a silent and strange prayer to whatever it is you think might be able to solve your problem. you hold your breath while your brain rapidly fires - look over there, where did you last see it, maybe if you make a bargain, maybe you deserve to loose this, maybe there's something you can do, maybe not. and if you are able, lucky enough, persistent enough, tough and durable enough, vulnerable and accepting enough, you can release that breath and inhale deeply.lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-61905949294515745802020-05-09T20:24:00.000-07:002020-05-11T09:26:20.770-07:00lost in the pit<div style="text-align: center;">
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it was october 26th 1991. we had been dating for about 7 months. we had tickets to see nirvana at the warfield. it was the nevermind tour. we hated the jocks that loved the record [how did they not know they were the target of all the jokes and the wrath in the lyrics?], but still loved the record. it was the year, so they say, that <i>punk broke</i>. </div>
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we went to many shows then. he always wanted to be up front. close. where you might get a spray of sweat from someone on stage. i never cared where we stood. i always loved feeling the music penetrate what seemed like every pore of my body. my ears were never happy the day after [until i wised up to earplugs. so uncool, but so much better]. </div>
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he had a beautiful, vintage, fake but even better than the real deal london fog-esque windbreaker. it was the most unusual mustard color, it bordered on ochre... but that's not quite right; it was not your standard mustard yellow bottle, but high end, although not quite dijon, mustard yellow squirted out; it worn, but not too worn. he had worn it to the show.</div>
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it was HOT inside the show. before things got crazy he bought me a t-shirt. i still have it. i didn't wear it then because they got so popular i couldn't wear it out [i could not be seen in something that popular]. but i kept it. now treasure it [still don't wear it really]. once the nirvana started and cobain started wailing everyone erupted. </div>
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the pit was MASSIVE. it was one of the largest pits i've ever seen. i never felt in danger. he always protected me and kept me safe, but he had his work cut out for him that night. he got so hot he asked me to hold the jacket. i wrapped the shirt and the jacket together and tied them around my waist. with a big huge knot. a tight knot. one i thought would work. </div>
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the pit kept trying to engulf us. he battled them back. i stood gazing up at the band in awe. they seemed as raw, cheeky, engrossed as i could have imagined. </div>
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and then at some point we got a little separated - maybe i went to the bathroom and had to work my way back, maybe he went to get a drink? that part is fuzzy. i got sucked into a small side pit. i got pushed to the ground. i got up, he pulled me out. i was fine. but the jacket and the t shirt were no longer on me. i went back to find them. he was confused. what are you doing? he couldn't hear me. i found the shirt. but the jacket. it was gone. </div>
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after the show we waited for the crowd to disperse. i scoured the ground my eyes darting looking under everyone's feet. there were a lot of doc martins. i looked toward the sides, the stage, that feeling of dread rose as the jacket wasn't there. </div>
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he was angry, or more accurately, sad. but he never held it against me. although occasionally he'd smirk and say i wish i had that mustard windbreaker.... uh.... yeah. me too. for years i tried to find one similar. i found blue ones, and red ones, a bright yellow one, avocado green, but never ever again have i seen that mustard. [the above photo isn't right - too buttery, but it will give you an idea]. </div>
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and this was the show. no cel phones to secretly video. i don't even know who recorded this. but that was the night i lost the perfect mustard windbreaker. </div>
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lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-83479224044021726012020-05-06T20:49:00.000-07:002020-05-06T20:49:00.726-07:00in the middle of the night i contemplated loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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i was laying there. trying to shut off my brain. but it just wouldn't. i had past that point. that magical moment when sleep is possible. i had almost fallen so many times to be jolted awake by a snore, a cat meow, an itch on my ankle. all things considered [global pandemic and the like], i've been sleeping relatively well, so i gave in.<br />
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maybe with age i know better than to fight it - hello insomnia. formidable foe. one night of you will not kill me. so i played solitaire on my phone. i read yet another article on how we really aren't ready to reopen. i thought about how i miss the studio so so much more than i ever have in my adult life. i sang hamilton songs to myself in my head. i contemplated how to do more with less. i wondered how all my friends are doing. how anyone and everyone is doing. there isn't really coping, but just managing. a series of tests, a series of failures. a series of resilience. a series of just making it through one more day intact.<br />
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i thought about how i can't even read in this moment. the thing that has always brought me comfort. made my brain purr along. what has always allowed me to imagine all kinds of things. empathize all kinds of things. live through someone's words all kinds of things. and then i got to the point where i realized i missed writing too.<br />
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and then came the flood of loss. people we've lost. freedoms we've lost. convenience, toilet paper, time alone, time with family, time with friends, hugs, students, magical moments, sharing any and all things, security ... all the loss. stacked. a pile of it.<br />
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and then. then i started thinking about how our whole lives we prepare for loss. there is always loss. sometimes big, sometimes minisculely small. important grand heartache - to what seems like a big deal, but we get over it. and i started thinking about all the different losses in my life. and then i thought about writing them down. acknowledging them. maybe even thanking them for teaching me how to handle the grief. small steps in a human existence. giving into loss is staring your fragility, your lack of control, your mortality, the suffering in the face. and then i liked that idea.<br />
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this morning i quickly scrawled: small tragedies. big meaningful/life changing losses. small tales of loss. short tales of loss. all the little losses. something lost. something is always lost. pointed tales of being lost. fleeting losses.... and i think i have landed with the most simple of statements - contemplating loss.<br />
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i promise nothing. but grandiose in my mind is a continuing exercise of remembering moments of loss. there might be some regret. there might be some hope. there might be nothing at all. except for the feeling that it is the right moment to do this. and thus i might as well try.lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-90719645575929344022019-10-09T14:27:00.000-07:002019-10-09T14:46:48.213-07:00oh yeah, i have a new book<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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oh hello sad neglected little blog. i honestly don't know how anyone manages to do ALL the things... who are these mythical creatures that blog, play on social media, send out weekly newsletters and have a family or day job? if you aren't following me on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lisasolomon/" target="_blank">instagram</a>, or get my newsletter, then maybe you don't know but I WROTE ANOTHER BOOK. or you can just see the blog has a fancy new header. this is a book that i've needed my whole life to write. it is my true passion, and i really poured my heart and soul into it. i mean, i don't think i could have done it even just 5 years ago. it's <a href="https://www.roostbooks.com/a-field-guide-to-color.html" target="_blank">published by ROOST</a> whose catalogue i pretty much can't stop swooning over and who are just the nicest people. really.<br />
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it's 15 chapters of real and true color theory with some fun exercises that will actually teach you some skills and color theory even if you don't think that they are that meaty, or academic. in between each chapter is a color meditation. this is the practice i started in watercolor a few years ago where i repeat a shape and shift its color as i continue painting. these small, sometimes quick, sometimes slow paintings became a means for me to start my studio day, to loosen up, to try color combos i never would... and bonus they felt like MEDITATIONS. i feel like we are bombarded with talk about how important it is to meditate and be mindful, but it can also be so freaking hard to implement that into our daily lives.<br />
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the book came out on august 27th. you can get it on <a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781611806120" target="_blank">indie bound</a>, on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Field-Guide-Color-Watercolor-Workbook/dp/1611806127/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=a+field+guide+to+color&qid=1570653851&sr=8-1" target="_blank">amazon</a> [where it's #1 in watercolor painting. how ?? did ?? that ?? happen ??], basically wherever your books are sold. if you want a signed copy and can't make it to the <a href="https://www.roostbooks.com/colortour" target="_blank">remaining book tour events</a> i have, please reach out and i can get you one. i had a show of the color meditations i made for the book [as well as countless others] at <a href="http://longweekend.virb.com/" target="_blank">Long Weekend</a> in Oakland. </div>
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super fun to see the real things next to the book interpretations, right ??</div>
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creative bug also launched a <a href="https://www.creativebug.com/classseries/single/color-meditation-daily-practice" target="_blank">30 day challenge of color meditations</a> for september - so you get the 15 prompts in the book plus 15 more ! i have been loving seeing people's interpretations under <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/cbdailypractice/" target="_blank">#cbdailypractice</a> or <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/colormeditation/" target="_blank">#colormeditation</a>.<br />
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i also taught a color class at <a href="https://www.outletpdx.com/" target="_blank">outlet PDX</a>.</div>
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had a book event at <a href="https://lisacongdon.com/" target="_blank">lisa congdon's studio</a>, where my friend Bri made rainbow h'ours derves plates [swoon].</div>
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with <a href="https://www.andrealampman.com/" target="_blank">andrea</a> at lisa's [we have hung out so many times w/out a photo of us and have been blog friends SINCE THE BEGINNING. finally here we are.]</div>
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i also made it to DENVER to my pals at <a href="https://fancytigercrafts.com/" target="_blank">Fancy Tiger Crafts </a>to teach another color class...<br />
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i love making everyone hold their personal color wheel's up to see how different they are. </div>
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and i also taught a sashiko class. you can do an <a href="https://www.creativebug.com/classseries/single/sashiko-sewing" target="_blank">online version on creative bug too.</a> </div>
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if you want to take a color class with me there are a couple BAY AREA ones you can sign up for... one at <a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/a-field-guide-to-color-workshop-with-lisa-solomon-tickets-71599952385" target="_blank">Arch on November 2 </a>from 1-4pm. and one at <a href="http://www.handcraftstudioschool.com/workshops/-127" target="_blank">Handcraft Studio Schoo</a>l December 7th from 10-1. </div>
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also if you are in the LA area i'll be doing a fun book signing where you can play with some watercolors and match scents to your favorite color at <a href="https://www.phoebepeacock.com/" target="_blank">Phoebe Peacock</a>.</div>
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October 24th from 6:30-8:30pm. should be super fun ! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhZxatLcsklgtdUXNVdv6_hf9KdMQtGfsjS4ECD46jy97v3E2hbwNLbF4RFZCEkGtPVZdGN9TN1sPAOcp0gZjDwI_JKj1KyC3hDnWoultWWXHt1KG-u8w2GWoDV5qLKA4tZrutg/s1600/IMG_3709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhZxatLcsklgtdUXNVdv6_hf9KdMQtGfsjS4ECD46jy97v3E2hbwNLbF4RFZCEkGtPVZdGN9TN1sPAOcp0gZjDwI_JKj1KyC3hDnWoultWWXHt1KG-u8w2GWoDV5qLKA4tZrutg/s640/IMG_3709.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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finally, since the book has come out i have been getting a lot of materials questions, what brushes do i like? what watercolors do i use. i list many resources in the book, but decided the easiest thing to do was to make an <a href="https://www.amazon.com/shop/lisasolomon" target="_blank">amazon storefront as a giant list</a>. look, i'm not a huge fan of amazon or it's practices, but this was an easy way for me to compile this list. i do get a small [think pennies] commission if you click thru any of my items and buy them, but i REALLY HOPE you will take this list and get your local art supplier or bookstore or whatever to carry the items i list. it is a VERY curated list. only things i feel like i can personally vouch for.<br />
<br />
so there you have it. that's what's new here... and if you want to see images of my last exhibition they are now on <a href="http://lisasolomon.com/portfolio_r.html" target="_blank">my website</a>. i've also been on a couple of podcasts lately - <a href="https://craftindustryalliance.org/podcast-episode-151-lisa-solomon/" target="_blank">while she naps</a>, and <a href="https://www.ilikeyourworkpodcast.com/post/lisa-solomon-a-passion-for-color-her-new-book-on-working-with-watercolor-creative-meditations" target="_blank">i like your work</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-90020417768079259052019-02-19T17:06:00.000-08:002019-03-06T08:51:36.461-08:00hinan // evacuation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO3sy_f-2V9jyUWpxAnbqNZQlIWK5PUCdlGW6R4rh7VjIlN9szhU16go9JIZXTg2hHJv21Osb3C5InyuUasuxujOnvTozTf28L2kDjtDrok8g-ZwG5pGAUoaaxDhl_tg6NydlYg/s1600/QoM_side_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1175" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO3sy_f-2V9jyUWpxAnbqNZQlIWK5PUCdlGW6R4rh7VjIlN9szhU16go9JIZXTg2hHJv21Osb3C5InyuUasuxujOnvTozTf28L2kDjtDrok8g-ZwG5pGAUoaaxDhl_tg6NydlYg/s640/QoM_side_full.jpg" width="468" /></a></div>
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hello friends ! i'm super excited to announce that i'm going to have a solo exhibition with <a href="http://waltermacielgallery.com/" target="_blank">walter maciel gallery</a> that opens march 2, 2019. </div>
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there is an artist reception from 6-8pm that evening and i will be there. if you are in the area i'd love to see you !</div>
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above is one of many pieces i've been working on over the last couple years. the show is all about the internment of the Japanese during WWII. here's the press release:</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lisa
Solomon<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Hinan //
Evacuation<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">2 March –
20 April 2019 <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Opening
Reception: Saturday, March 2<sup>nd</sup>, 6:00 – 8:00pm<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Walter Maciel Gallery is pleased to present the
exhibition, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hinan // Evacuation </i>by
Lisa Solomon marking her fourth solo show with our gallery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The new body of work focuses on Japanese
Americans who were forced into internment camps and the consequences of
Executive Order 9066 signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt on February 19,
1942 during World War II.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The show questions
the physical and emotional effects left upon the Japanese American community and
will include a film series of short documentaries on survivors in Gallery 4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Solomon grew up in Los Angeles and Santa Barbara
with no knowledge of the Japanese Internment Camps as a young student in
California public schools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her mother emigrated
from Japan in 1971 after meeting her Jewish American father and she had some
affiliation with the Japanese American community in Southern California.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During this same period of history, the
Holocaust was happening across Europe using similar tactics to capture a
specific group of people based on their race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although the outcome for Japanese Americans was certainly different with
most being spared torture and execution, the parallels of human repression,
fear and racial bias became of interest to Solomon in the production of this
work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon further research she learned
that there were relocation collection points near her home in Oakland and she
could superimpose in her mind the lines of people waiting to be “evacuated” at
these locales. Furthermore, our current political spectrum has brought a lot of
racist, hateful, and illegal circumstances that have allowed for the attempt to
pass laws much akin to the notions behind Executive Order 9066.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his first two years in office, Trump
implemented the Muslim Ban restricting travel for specific ethnic groups while
separating thousands of families at the US border. It has become clear that our
nation is once again confronting, resisting and reasserting white racist and
colonial ideals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Some of the work in our show depicts evidence of racism
in the signage from businesses that had to close and the maps posted and used
to collect residents. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In one large work
a reproduction of a Western Defense poster reading “Instructions to all persons
of JAPANESE ancestry”, is reproduced as a drawing with the word JAPANESE
embroidered using a Sashiko stitch often used in Boro (the mending of clothing
with small scraps of fabric). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other works
focus on images from the camps that express human joy in celebration of the
holidays and family ceremonies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Solomon
became awestruck by the sense of normalcy keeping up with family traditions of observing
harvest festivals, Boy Scout parades and Christmas perhaps as subconscious acts
of resistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a series of paintings,
different women who were declared Queens of their respective camps during a
Harvest Festival are depicted with one crown displaying “Queen of Manzanar”.
The women are dressed in fashion of the time, their hair coiffed in Western
Styles, seemingly happy and carefree in contrast to their jarring
circumstances. Other works such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">25 Tea
Cups</i> exist as a sculptural installation with the number 25 representing the
number of temporary and long-term camps in total.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In thinking about how to keep things
“normal,” Solomon realized that tea is such a major part of daily life for
Japanese and she discovered there are 23 basic tea bowl shapes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this piece she made 25 tiny tea bowls out
of white paper clay using the 23 different shapes leaving them white as if to
act as a ghostly reminder. Each tea bowl has the name, active dates and number
of internees written in gold on its face and is placed on a long wooden shelf.
Overall, the show displays the high form of respect and self-discipline taught
in Japanese culture in adhering to the laws of the camps and adapting to their
restricted lives while honoring traditions mirroring what life would have been
like out of the camps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The show is a
powerful reminder of our government’s mistakes and the embarrassment of being
involved in a World War partly in aide to those being forced into internment
camps by racial identity all the while employing the same circumstances back
him in the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-87548498727217770242018-12-07T17:09:00.000-08:002018-12-07T19:37:19.488-08:00good bye ed. i will miss you immensely. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOMzCUMxBT5PgwGGs9tBM9Iuk8N4bfqpbDmjlKYQ2O8YjYv6A_lCIRKow7TYrd78aQD8d6EMT3qTUhDx8lnLbfRgri__GHeL87douTYRgHre9j9dxMnpPqjDXj4bQjHpSO-eR6w/s1600/ed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1221" data-original-width="1600" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOMzCUMxBT5PgwGGs9tBM9Iuk8N4bfqpbDmjlKYQ2O8YjYv6A_lCIRKow7TYrd78aQD8d6EMT3qTUhDx8lnLbfRgri__GHeL87douTYRgHre9j9dxMnpPqjDXj4bQjHpSO-eR6w/s400/ed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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there are some people who change the course of your life. ed was one of those people. i first met him when i worked for ruth braunstein at her gallery in downtown san francisco. he owned graystone contemporary - a small space right down the hall. i walked by his gallery every time i went to the bathroom.</div>
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i'm pretty sure that at first he thought i was some frivolous kid. an artsty fartsy type working for a gallery thinking i was cool for doing so. he would barely look up from his desk as i walked by. we'd say good morning, or nod, or a quick hello if we were in the elevator together. he'd come into the gallery and talk to ruth about business. he was loud, and confident [at that time i was neither of those and i just listened]. one day he looked up and had a quizzical look on his face as i passed by. and it was so funny to me that i stuck my tongue out at him. he guffawed loudly and stuck his tongue out right back. </div>
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after that when i'd walk by he'd ask me questions. if i was going out to grab lunch i'd ask if he needed anything. and slowly over the course of the 2+ years i worked for ruth we got to know one another. he sometimes had things in his gallery that i loved. we'd talk about them. then he got a girlfriend and we'd talk about her. then i met her [candy] and she was actually even cooler than how he talked about her. when it came time for me to leave ruth's - he offered me a job to work for him. </div>
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working for ed was a being thrown in deep end of a freezing pool and learning to swim. very soon after starting he and candy left to go on a trip. i barely knew what he had in inventory. he expected me to handle anything. he didn't doubt for a second that i could handle anything. and so i did. scared out of my mind i fielded phone calls from big whig new york clients who were wondering where ed was and what the state of his finding them IMPORTANT PIECE OF ART X was. i sold a five figure robert motherwell print to a european guy who was breezing through town. i held down the fort. i took copious notes. i made lists of things for ed to do when he returned that i couldn't handle. i put out any fires as best i could. when he did return i made sure he handled all those lists. he gave me a generous commission for the motherwell sale. i was 25. </div>
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ed let me curate shows in his gallery. any way i wanted. he might introduce me to someone, but i had to do the asking, the loan paperwork, the coordinating, the hunting. one of the most memorable was a show called "head to toe" about clothing in a contemporary art context that included my heroes <a href="http://www.lesleydill.net/" target="_blank">lesley dill </a> and <a href="https://www.sfmoma.org/artist/Paula_Santiago" target="_blank">paula santiago</a>. oh ! and an amazing 1950's painting by <a href="https://www.sfmoma.org/artist/Wayne_Thiebaud" target="_blank">wayne thiebad</a> of a guy in a leopard skin speedo. we also jointly worked on a show pairing <a href="https://www.moma.org/artists/3048" target="_blank">ellsworth kelly </a>and <a href="http://www.suzannecaporael.com/" target="_blank">suzanne caporael</a> - i loved the seeing their two takes on colorful abstraction in close proximity. through those shows i got to develop curatorial approaches that were mine. his implicit trust and excitement in my enthusiasm was exhilarating. </div>
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while i was there i also got to sit with the most beautiful cloud study maquette <a href="https://www.gerhard-richter.com/en/" target="_blank">gerhard richter</a> painted. for the 3 days we had it before it went to its new owner i got to the gallery, opened up and held it in my hands. i put it on the wall and stared at it. i ran my finger over richter's signature on the back. same with a <a href="http://joanmitchellfoundation.org/work" target="_blank">joan mitchell </a>wonder of a 18"x18" or so painting. the smallest but most perfect mitchell i've ever seen. at the time i knew it was amazing that i was holding work by people who were in museums [where you could never ever touch it]. the idea that these were going to belong to real people in real homes was simply astounding. but more importantly i got to see and hold them first. i don't think i'll ever have that kind of opportunity ever again. he once had me bid on a theibaud print via phone at a sotheby's auction. he was out of town. he gave me a limit. i bid. i won. it felt crazy and exciting and also is something i have never done again since. </div>
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ed and i argued over points of feminism. we argued over movies [he argued with lot of people over movies]. over the merits of photography [he thought it was useless and took no skill whatsoever. i disagreed]. he didn't respect people that couldn't stand their ground in an argument. we rarely changed each other's minds, but half the fun was in the arguing, and if you argued well you earned his respect. there would be a twinkle in his eye. he helped to teach me the power and importance of having a devil's advocate. i employ that approach in my teaching all the time. </div>
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ed became like an uncle to me. when you spend 8 hours a day together in confined space you get to know one another well. sometimes we'd sluff off working and we'd play backgammon [he taught me how to play]. sometimes i had to get him, my boss, to stay on track - he wanted to mess around and i told him he had to close the deal. he was so transparent - opened the books of his business to me - heck some months i had to balance all his accounts. i learned about how to run a small business, how to negotiate, all because he trusted me. </div>
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ed could walk into any space and be seen and heard. he got things done. he was opinionated. he was convincing. sometimes he was overbearing... but the flip side to that was he was one of the most generous people i've ever known. when he and candy went to vietnam they met a young man who was working for his family instead of going to school. they paid his salary for a year to his family so he could go to school instead. they bought him his first pair of sandals. how many dogs did he rescue and care for? when i was finally going to stop working for him to go to grad school he gave me a bonus that not only covered the costs of a laptop, but also other supplies i needed to start to make work. he bought me lunch more often than he needed to. he insisted on taking my artwork to an art fair and he sold it [and introduced me to my first gallerist]. </div>
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he and candy let me and my husband get married on a property they owned with a 400 square foot cabin. they put in a beautiful new bathroom in that cabin pretty much just because we were getting married there. forever forever the memories of one of the most important days of my life will be tied to him. the photo above is of him giving a toast at our wedding. </div>
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he also coined the term "jewpanese" - and we talked a lot about how it's an interesting combination of cultures/points of view. i've shared that term with other "jewpanese" folks and so i think that term will live on.</div>
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ed also showed me that you could and should appreciate things in life. when he and candy went to europe and drove in a citroen and he loved it, he tracked one down and bought it. he relished the hunt for unusual and interesting things - be it art, be it kitchen drawer pulls, be it miniature [we bonded over miniatures!] <a href="https://www.ebay.com/bhp/berndt-friberg" target="_blank">friberg ceramics</a> he bought on ebay before anyone else did [he got them for $30, $50, $100. now they are several hundreds] . he ALWAYS claimed to know THE BEST place for a sandwich, a suit, tools, for anything - and he'd tell you who talk to when you got there too. and if you mentioned ed when you did actually go there, there'd be a big knowing smile. </div>
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he was by no means perfect. i think i could write something just as long about those imperfections. but why. i prefer to remember him this way and to honor and cherish all the love and kindness he showed me. </div>
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lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-38012989996887609772018-11-07T14:51:00.001-08:002018-11-07T15:21:24.016-08:00pretty big things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
i am very thrilled to announce that i am in a group show at<a href="http://waltermacielgallery.com/" target="_blank"> walter maciel gallery </a>curated by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/brenda_addobbo/" target="_blank">brenda g. williams</a></div>
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i will be there this saturday - november 10, 2018 - from 4-8 pm for an artist meet and greet and reception. if you are in the area it'd be lovely to see you and say hello !</div>
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from the press release: </div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><i>Pretty is defined as being attractive in a delicate way. Big connotes a considerable size or intensity. Thing is an object that often has no specific identity but for this exhibition the thing is art. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><i>Pretty Big Things represents the energy of optimism and possibility while embracing beauty, meditation and positive anticipation. After a couple of tumultuous and emotional years in our political spectrum, the desire to experience the simple joy and satisfaction of engaging art work becomes the focus of this exhibition putting aside our thoughts of despair, revolt, anger and fear. The selection of artworks by six California-based artists generates a conversation of personal intent and working styles that will hopefully result in a movement of high optimism, reflection, action and mobilization for change as a way to empower our community. </i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZCLR9pAXlXEy4GzQb9p-79TyPo_Nr7CUYGTjgnwbyzQpzttBSPgBbpwocvqWKYScrnxtfIvs2lJ44EReZhHAYBTdNFbREIrtJntmHbGgJEaRmRIZxpCW8Tx9s-9MST_39YgPwnA/s1600/IMG_7215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZCLR9pAXlXEy4GzQb9p-79TyPo_Nr7CUYGTjgnwbyzQpzttBSPgBbpwocvqWKYScrnxtfIvs2lJ44EReZhHAYBTdNFbREIrtJntmHbGgJEaRmRIZxpCW8Tx9s-9MST_39YgPwnA/s640/IMG_7215.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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i have 4 large [over 4'] drawings in the show. i couldn't get photos of them in their entirety in my studio [can't step back far enough]. so instead i offer you some details. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoRtSVXSPrelKO_FfruglFLcr_Sxd5Sfo-oPSZA2Vl1JdjBVKPGdDfpUrBbfynjAZuuJ4qghBoRlyz-5IYY9FXp3MQbkBxM8P5kiDPVJQiXQoashkyGf2xhwnKbPBpBNXQAb7aPg/s1600/IMG_7398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoRtSVXSPrelKO_FfruglFLcr_Sxd5Sfo-oPSZA2Vl1JdjBVKPGdDfpUrBbfynjAZuuJ4qghBoRlyz-5IYY9FXp3MQbkBxM8P5kiDPVJQiXQoashkyGf2xhwnKbPBpBNXQAb7aPg/s640/IMG_7398.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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the 4 drawings revolve around my interest in ikebana - literally translated to "living flowers" it's a japanese tradition that started in the 7th century. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAAG2F404Zh3SpHQjvsEABrGPGSVJZzGfpmnrjkyCjPGUqQcfVArXXHwIm56WVH5Sx47iqjILNrEV1M0uWr6Khcd2tb3jEpVNDd_0dZEFFU2I40DeheUqRDqRqG2PrnbSmRq1gQ/s1600/IMG_7403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAAG2F404Zh3SpHQjvsEABrGPGSVJZzGfpmnrjkyCjPGUqQcfVArXXHwIm56WVH5Sx47iqjILNrEV1M0uWr6Khcd2tb3jEpVNDd_0dZEFFU2I40DeheUqRDqRqG2PrnbSmRq1gQ/s640/IMG_7403.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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often seen as a meditative practice and a chance to convene with nature, i decided to utilize collaged elements - some directly from vintage ikebana handbooks as well as one woman's personal ikebana sketchbook. i also made 3 dimensional paper flowers/leaves from gami paper, gold leaf and embroidery to depict the 4 seasons. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kKCZh1rKoz-KLkt3hJTG9pTzuvj3jIhkbpzXXyLZY-Na0jCmRbi9KK7e_VhifEfK0dc74dEwEOVUo6HiaRawoDRLdl795U4Jg1rwmQ36D-4fT87iP1AYAu0FRa_iDf39s9VWPw/s1600/IMG_7271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kKCZh1rKoz-KLkt3hJTG9pTzuvj3jIhkbpzXXyLZY-Na0jCmRbi9KK7e_VhifEfK0dc74dEwEOVUo6HiaRawoDRLdl795U4Jg1rwmQ36D-4fT87iP1AYAu0FRa_iDf39s9VWPw/s640/IMG_7271.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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they were really interesting for me to make, both a departure and a synthesis of many ideas i've been using the studio for years. i love the idea of looking for beauty, particularly in difficult times. i'll post pictures of the full works once i take photos this weekend !</div>
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<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-76852508136870313652018-09-13T11:22:00.000-07:002018-09-13T11:22:15.916-07:00september exhibitionshey there ! i have a lot of work up in a lot of places this september... [if you get my newsletter this will be old news to you, but...]<br />
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if any of these are in your neck of the woods check them out, or come to the openings/events where i will be so we can say hello in person !<br />
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my "wallet size me" portraits are on view at <a href="https://workssanjose.org/" target="_blank">Works </a>in San Jose</div>
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curated by Sylvia Min, including work by Sylvia, <a href="http://www.maryayling.com/" target="_blank">Mary Ayling</a>, <a href="https://www.conniebegg.com/index.html" target="_blank">Connie Begg</a>, <a href="http://carminaeliason.com/" target="_blank">Carmina Eliason</a></div>
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the show is up through October 14th. </div>
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my pieces that document the migration of radiation after the fukushima daichii nuclear disaster in 2011, and a few "portraits" that document the migration of myself, my husband, my mom and dad will be on view in "home" curated by <a href="http://www.jeniferkent.com/" target="_blank">jenifer kent</a>, also including work by <a href="https://www.rodneyewing.com/" target="_blank">rodney ewing </a>and <a href="http://www.hannahpmode.com/" target="_blank">hannah perrine mode</a>, the show opens this friday - sept 14th from 5-7pm. there is an artist talk/walk through at 6pm. the show is at the jackson street gallery at <a href="https://www.sfuhs.org/" target="_blank">san francisco university high school </a>. the show is up through october 26th. </div>
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my senninbari [1000 french stitched knot belt] piece, as well as a couple of doily toxins are on view in "t<a href="http://www.montereyart.org/current-exhibitions/the-new-domestics-finding-beauty-in-the-mundane/" target="_blank">he new domestics- finding beauty in the mundane</a>" at the monterey art museum</div>
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there is an artist reception next thursday, sept. 20th which i will be attending. the exhibition will be on view through october 28th.</div>
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gail enns of <a href="http://celadonarts.org/" target="_blank">celadon arts</a> and i started talking about the concept for this show in 2014, so it's really awesome to see it come to fruition. it also includes amazing work by <a href="http://www.mitrafabian.net/" target="_blank">mitra fabian</a>, s<a href="http://susanabbottmartin.com/" target="_blank">usan abbot martin</a>, <a href="http://vicmay.com/" target="_blank">victoria may</a>, <a href="http://mariaporges.com/" target="_blank">maria porges</a>, <a href="http://www.katherinesherwood.com/" target="_blank">katherine sherwood</a>, <a href="http://www.judyshintani.com/" target="_blank">judy shintani</a>, and t<a href="http://www.hollyandashleetemple.com/" target="_blank">he temple sisters</a></div>
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in "<a href="https://gallery.sfsu.edu/events/2018/09/22/893-all-together-now" target="_blank">all together now</a>" a show curated by <a href="https://kevinbchen.com/home.html" target="_blank">kevin chen</a>, <a href="https://www.artslant.com/global/artists/show/102189-sharon-bliss" target="_blank">sharon bliss</a> and <a href="https://arcega.us/home.html" target="_blank">mike arcega</a> - the concept of community is explored. part of <a href="http://thekeepsakeproject.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">the keepsake project</a> developed at <a href="http://www.irvingstreetprojects.org/" target="_blank">irving street projects</a> will be on view.<br />
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other artists include - <a href="http://www.lukazabranfman-verissimo.com/" target="_blank">lukaza branfman-verissimo</a>, <a href="https://www.jeffreycheung.com/" target="_blank">Jeffrey Cheung/Unity Skateboarding</a>, <a href="http://www.wallofsongproject.com/" target="_blank">Mel Day and Michael Namkung</a>, <a href="http://www.miriamkleinstahl.com/" target="_blank">miriam klein stahl</a>, <a href="https://ramekon.com/home.html" target="_blank">ramekon o'arwisters</a>, <a href="http://peopleskitchencollective.com/" target="_blank">peoples kitchen collective</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jackie_Sumell" target="_blank">jackie sumell</a>, <a href="http://www.kimarteche.com/means-of-exchange.html" target="_blank">kim arteche and weston teruya</a>, <a href="http://www.shirintowfiq.com/" target="_blank">shirin towfiq</a>, <a href="https://angiewilson.org/home.html" target="_blank">angie wilson</a>, with reading table selections by <a href="http://www.harrellfletcher.com/" target="_blank">harrel fletcher</a><br />
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there is a reception september 22 from 1-3pm which i will be attending.<br />
the exhibition is up through october 25.<br />
on october 2nd from 2-3pm i will be in the gallery documenting keepsakes if you want to come by.<br />
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happy fall [although i'm patiently waiting for our Bay Area summer]lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-53094077943166564842018-08-15T13:07:00.002-07:002018-08-15T13:11:41.519-07:00free week at Creativebug !<a href="https://shareasale.com/r.cfm?b=1224901&u=1214402&m=42943&urllink=&afftrack=" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://static.shareasale.com/image/42943/FreeWeek_FB_1200x628_v3.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Hey ! i'm just popping in to let you know that THIS WEEK (august 15-22, 2018) you can login to <a href="https://shareasale.com/r.cfm?b=1224901&u=1214402&m=42943&urllink=&afftrack=" target="_blank">Creativebug</a> for FREE and watch any classes you want !<br />
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and in case you didn't know - they just released a 15 day Professional Practice class that i teach ! i used to teach a semester long version of this course and we really tried to focus on the nuts and bolts of what you need to get yourself ready for gallery shows, to apply for grants, residencies or a MFA... there's info about taxes, copyright, and a robust pdf with millions of links and helpful hints.<br />
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i know i haven't been posting much but i have a bunch of shows and stuff coming up and things that i need your help/participation, so i'll be back soon !lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-43086995840030773682018-02-06T12:28:00.001-08:002018-02-06T12:33:36.173-08:00the reality of lifei am sitting, while my fridge is getting repaired. a new fridge. a steam cleaner is running [to clean the fan before a new compressor is put on] and the door ajar noise is beeping and CNN is on the TV and i am multi-tasking on my laptop. i need to be working on illustrations for a book i'm writing [on color. so excited. this is a topic for another day], but i can't until the repair guy is gone.<br />
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and this. this just seems like a very typical state of affairs in my life. the tug of things that need to get done vs. the inconvenient messiness of life and obligations vs. the pull of the things i really really really want to be doing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yRLAgkwTarOgWvXsLI1EC1oRbt2x6H5D89i5qHAcQTUxXPVIE6q405YTO0rQoKgZXfmIV6pcAaYfHR5Nc3wdncgWE_x4mZtX7TJhgHZruidhQLZQrDiJXxsjK3EaD9ZIPEyYWA/s1600/20180120-Lisa50-booth-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yRLAgkwTarOgWvXsLI1EC1oRbt2x6H5D89i5qHAcQTUxXPVIE6q405YTO0rQoKgZXfmIV6pcAaYfHR5Nc3wdncgWE_x4mZtX7TJhgHZruidhQLZQrDiJXxsjK3EaD9ZIPEyYWA/s640/20180120-Lisa50-booth-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">us now</td></tr>
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i am thinking about how i was up in portland a couple weekends ago for <a href="http://lisacongdon.com/" target="_blank">lisa congdon's</a> 50th birthday. it was so fun to meet some genuine friends in real life for the first time [<a href="http://www.katebingamanburt.com/" target="_blank">how can it be</a> this is the <a href="http://www.bookscoutblog.com/" target="_blank">first time i've hugged them</a> or<a href="http://allbuttonedup.typepad.com/" target="_blank"> met their children in person</a>?].<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/lisasolomon/2736108994/in/album-72157606454243965/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="lisa lisa mug"><img alt="lisa lisa mug" height="426" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2254/2736108994_14a872290c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">us in 2008 [i was pregnant in this photo but hadn't told anyone yet]<br />
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i stayed <a href="http://redrocketsglare.com/" target="_blank">with folks</a> who are <a href="https://www.instagram.com/bri_richards/" target="_blank">like family</a>. i saw friends from right here in the bay that i don't see often enough. i saw portland or so-cal people who i usually see in other places. i ate amazing food and had thoughtful conversations. i even saw some live music. it felt adult, and rejuvenating. i missed my family and pets as i always do when i travel [i actually love that distinct feeling of longing. and i relish in my rebuked duties - particularly making school lunches], but i walked in the brisk cold and drizzle and wandered into stores, galleries, powells at my own pace... what a luxury.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this was an interment collection center</td></tr>
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i also realized that i missed a deadline [so unlike me and worrisome], that i can only stretch so far - and like a rubber band when taught i am close to snapping back, that i can shove things aside but in the end what really really matters are those MOMENTS. you know the ones ::<br />
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• the real conversation with someone who sees you and knows you [even if you just met]<br />
• being catty about art world things with people who get it [there are so few who really do]<br />
• laughing hysterically from the gut numerous times<br />
• a plate of citrus cod, crab gratin, bone marrow on toast and winter salad shared<br />
• talking about the reality of fairies with a six year old whose brothers keep convincing her they aren't real<br />
• driving around with a friend hunting down an internment camp collection center because you need to see it and it's now a music venue and you imagine what it would look like with a line of japanese people and suitcases outside<br />
• the smell of palo santo<br />
• the pollinations of ideas for shows and workshops of all sorts<br />
• the wearing of a vintage dress/jacket combo<br />
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in the reality of my life the grading of readings and projects never seems to end, the coordination of girl scout cookie booths and <a href="http://instagram.com/artiststakeaction" target="_blank">art auctions</a> vie for precious mental space. sometimes i read novels while brushing my teeth, or in the dark on my phone with a snoring husband and dogs next to me until i can't keep my own eyes open. i can make big things fit into small spaces, and find a way to utilize every. single. moment. of. every. single. day. and i know this the reality for many of us. and we are privileged and lucky and hyper aware of our prosperity.<br />
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there was a lot of talk in portland about blogs. how we all created our blogs and met in this magical era - i started in 2004. hello. i mean i guess i can go back and read those archives. it might be scary. then i was writing for myself. for my family. there was no one reading. and then all of a sudden there was. and this community formed. and it was not just virtual. and it has stuck. 14 years later i don't write here nearly as much as i want to. but i love that it is still here. that i can. <b>the possibility of it is almost as important as the reality of doing it. </b><br />
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writing makes my brain focus in a way that other things do not. reading other people's writing does the same. articulating what is most important to me in a hopefully coherent way is an exercise i should complete more often. time. time is just never simple or a friend. there is both an endless amount of it, never enough of it, and a misperception of it. continually.<br />
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i've started another daily project. <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/mydailychroma/" target="_blank">#mydailychroma </a> because it's been awhile and why the hell not pile on... and it's already doing what daily projects are so good for. holding me accountable. making me look at things differently. i find something, photo it, then replicate the colors... and so it goes. hoping to do this for the whole year....<br />
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lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-59415488566218923382017-12-15T12:26:00.000-08:002017-12-15T12:26:03.975-08:00forward >>> at Nahcotta Gallery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPP512fzhutYW300717Xey4hLWJi9RDYvCesCpq_DtttUXljUpSNE3steFxsEX6YcWRRMvOfswF3cBGHfX5QZxlGu-21xhwWhRVuKWkgyP_p2ku1qI-PJiCq97pjRJAvRjZeCSMA/s1600/IMG_3446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1068" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPP512fzhutYW300717Xey4hLWJi9RDYvCesCpq_DtttUXljUpSNE3steFxsEX6YcWRRMvOfswF3cBGHfX5QZxlGu-21xhwWhRVuKWkgyP_p2ku1qI-PJiCq97pjRJAvRjZeCSMA/s640/IMG_3446.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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hello. i am in a group show - a really good group show if i do say so myself. the artists are all strong, and the cause is even better. 25% of any proceeds from the show will go to 3 charities. you can see the work, what is available to purchase, and learn more about the charities supported on <a href="https://nahcotta.com/collections/forward?page=2" target="_blank">Nahcotta Gallery's website</a></div>
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i made 3 pieces. they are loosely based on Japanese Internment Camps during WWII. during that time many Japanese were moved from locale to locale, and housed in bunker like facilities. while interned, they continued to observe and celebrate tradition festivals like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bon_Festival" target="_blank">Obon</a> and the Harvest [with the <a href="http://www.greenshinto.com/wp/2012/03/25/otafuku-and-uzume/" target="_blank">otafuku</a> mask].</div>
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they are all papers on panel with little shelves which house small pagoda/garden lanterns [aka toro] - which serve as a reliquary, or a light to show the way for buddha. The paper cutout backgrounds all reflect different camps.</div>
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i used the book <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/261455.Impounded?from_search=true" target="_blank">IMPOUNDED </a>, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13790958-colors-of-confinement?from_search=true" target="_blank">Colors of Confinement</a> [the three kimono figures in one piece are from the cover], and the <a href="http://ddr.densho.org/" target="_blank">Densho Digital Repository</a> for research/imagery. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3RH5kyjPAi0Toi8J9ki_0RZxBWsoPVNsIkvFghnFIOwHdreQr-CKMkCgCJGlvEMCuQwX34YH4vdPyN3-AP62lWE1lSwdDim6-2_0GpHAaXVG5XRuLtOywdsC8KM-MpYl9gpMkA/s1600/harvestfestivalatmanzanar_e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="612" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3RH5kyjPAi0Toi8J9ki_0RZxBWsoPVNsIkvFghnFIOwHdreQr-CKMkCgCJGlvEMCuQwX34YH4vdPyN3-AP62lWE1lSwdDim6-2_0GpHAaXVG5XRuLtOywdsC8KM-MpYl9gpMkA/s640/harvestfestivalatmanzanar_e.jpg" width="488" /></a></div>
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Harvest Festival At Manzanar</div>
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8" x 8"<br />watercolor, pen, papers, embroidery, pins, painted terra cotta pagoda/toro, wood shelf on panel</div>
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Obon Festival at Topaz </div>
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10" x 10"</div>
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watercolor, pen, colored pencil, papers, embroidery, pins, painted terra cotta pagodas/toros, wood shelves on panel</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFXGDw_4-1lfONtgOyY8APXnSkoBFHI2Um0MbUeN0bMDlYIZ3nr3P4FtVkzKZeQb2AkwXmYtnwX4CkZK9kd0kh9qPwmLDZaDS0wREALOYXBVe9aVLEeTDHyZ_iaOPrgODZOukmQ/s1600/obonattobaz_detail_e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="530" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFXGDw_4-1lfONtgOyY8APXnSkoBFHI2Um0MbUeN0bMDlYIZ3nr3P4FtVkzKZeQb2AkwXmYtnwX4CkZK9kd0kh9qPwmLDZaDS0wREALOYXBVe9aVLEeTDHyZ_iaOPrgODZOukmQ/s640/obonattobaz_detail_e.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3S2SwL0iCXYb69YZY8XERHGPBiGLqO6kLFybz3BxVJgLnTTvHwy_5BK3aygiKrANyY0GwniGoYUY16e-pKur5tjeE_wtdyymS2Vh712ni-K6riPoe4lNp_NUn8OwlIUlf4EOYA/s1600/obonattulelake_e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="726" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3S2SwL0iCXYb69YZY8XERHGPBiGLqO6kLFybz3BxVJgLnTTvHwy_5BK3aygiKrANyY0GwniGoYUY16e-pKur5tjeE_wtdyymS2Vh712ni-K6riPoe4lNp_NUn8OwlIUlf4EOYA/s640/obonattulelake_e.jpg" width="580" /></a></div>
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Obon Festival at Tule</div>
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10" x 10"</div>
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watercolor, colored pencil, papers, embroidery, pins, painted terra cotta pagoda/toro, wood shelf on panel</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDz3ONazEXcamomF8bBwrUORToFNxXRjiak1C4_ObcpQDZuwXpoW382RQ9ZFah0_aRQFocjXobrxqVzT9z_x2wyqEkYPLZWrVuCg4O_rBZf_-tYziq8q7XcGNQZh68R4o0dazUNA/s1600/obonattulelake_detail2_e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="1000" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDz3ONazEXcamomF8bBwrUORToFNxXRjiak1C4_ObcpQDZuwXpoW382RQ9ZFah0_aRQFocjXobrxqVzT9z_x2wyqEkYPLZWrVuCg4O_rBZf_-tYziq8q7XcGNQZh68R4o0dazUNA/s640/obonattulelake_detail2_e.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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the holidays are coming. the holidays are coming.... are you ready ???</div>
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<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-41980768958384600752017-11-25T10:05:00.001-08:002017-11-25T10:05:28.768-08:00Creative Bug Black Friday Sale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank"><img alt="tracing shadows with lisa solomon on creative bug" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJoE8_s113x_MMB8elkn4H_mZuMl6komj9wNAjWN98p1B7d_-Pd5WCSnOKqs-K3EswJub5jXVSEMy92jL6E-FiT8MgxV-efggFZIVRx_J-3RqyMiLFgbwhPCNSMrA17zWAKDKYg/s640/787049F9-DF97-4582-9D4C-2B68369D33A5.PNG" title="tracing shadows with lisa solomon on creative bug" width="426" /></a></div>
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hi friends.... i know this time of year gets a little nutty... if i hear another black friday or cyber monday jingle or promotion i might scream... but i have to add to that mix...</div>
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you know i teach on creative bug right ? well... they are having a <a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank">great sale</a> - and you have a few days to hop on it !</div>
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<a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank"><img alt="lisa solomon on creative bug - 3 months for $1" border="0" data-original-="" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="700" height="640" img="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOuyh66abFKldft74zYQCwCWD7GynR01zm1h9WxZGOljwcilOqRDcsoIvzW6T0aOBb2z55-AXcDkUbq2kyrycYIsqXiWZXKKAWD8kDYwyWGMDdWCcAJVzcx3HIYjyoQnz6GyJxBQ/s640/BlackFriday_Newsletter_700x900.gif" title="lisa solomon on creative bug - 3 months for $1" width="496" /></a></div>
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if you aren't already a subscriber and have been on the fence - this is the perfect way to test the waters. and seriously there are SO MANY GOOD classes ! i use it as a resource if i want to remember how to put in a zipper, or remember a weaving trick... or just be inspired. </div>
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<a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank"><img alt="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUnHgZyvUc8qON-CGUJOJC7eU0Es153I4085ZF5f8WhzlxlXF_9RzQ8DKybRhno_4hUXpe4lQ6MB_75T5jHnrOsXIum7Nyyu35iQQJQaox14x5We5VWHruHme_EngBEVAgHHSm6g/s640/Acrylic_Part1_FB_Ad_600x600.jpg" title="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" width="640" /></a></div>
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i've already filmed 2 things with them. a 3 part beginning acrylic class....</div>
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<a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank"><img alt="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb7QqJFURePb1XTr-GnPkgRdgHDSZyRoQddRMy_ztDbZ8HamxhWbkKMlsNRIuek3GIi8eflEEKu3AcWHL26h6npQI9Ha0b3lQJAAm5MsuU4L9r7fcM4ocaHw4md7we5AgWZoLInw/s640/Acrylic_Part2_FB_Ad_600x600.jpg" title="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank"><img alt="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-C7NQkVXPR1AS8p5eks2XUSSypL5fwbVQTV3G3VpqKdC84-xI_ReW3km8RGbutRfNMhyphenhyphenBPjQLrRWW9xeQ0N7GsFwlQGXJzqjkxpFQ6dZpaeYr1SrnY8SMI_uJos0YAmZYoI7Gg/s640/Acrylic_Part3_FB_Ad_600x600.jpg" title="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" width="640" /></a></div>
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and a daily challenge. 30 days of tracing shadows as a way to loosen up your drawings. </div>
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<a href="http://bit.ly/LisaSolomon_BFsale" target="_blank"><img alt="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOgwinNfY2TWy_-n80gyKjo0-USAGYGSiOY05F-AV1QyFYmubkH2q4mwOG3nfk-op9N7YDEBcR9paq2hbmq3gieYpmQ-OCVGH5C5e3eexKYNIt3YMVVOWkVMNSGsZL0AQ2nxBrA/s640/LisaSolomon_1000x1000.jpg" title="acrylic painting with lisa solomon on creative bug" width="640" /></a></div>
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and... i just filmed 2 more classes with them.... acrylic painting - part 2 - where i show you a lot of cool mediums and what you can do with them... and a class i'm SO EXCITED about - sashiko. </div>
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you can see me and faith from creative bug do a little demo from a <a href="https://www.creativebug.com/classseries/single/sashiko-stitched-monograms-3-2-17" target="_blank">LIVE shoot here</a>... but that class will be on their site in january - so if you sign up for the 3 month deal, you can check it out !</div>
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if you are stateside [or celebrate] - hope you had a great thanksgiving. </div>
<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-13696848558001300532017-08-29T09:42:00.002-07:002017-08-29T09:42:42.628-07:00what i did on my summer vacation - part 1Holy moly cow. well there went summer.<br />
was it just me or did it feel like there was a collective swoosh sound and a couple blinks??<br />
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all the tropes of summer... popsicles, bbqs, corn, watermelon, maybe some swimming, a lot more walking, lazier days... true? perhaps. but also much more.<br />
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do you remember having to write those what you did over summer essays when you got back to school. little do those kids realize how great it actually is to reflect on 3 months.<br />
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the first part of my summer was spent switching the little's room to a more "big girl room". she picked the paint. we painted her room, the dresser, i took apart, moved and put back together an ikea loft bed by myself [there was some swearing involved]... she picked new sheets and curtains and a rug [all black and gray]. and a chandelier... i think that actually reveals quite a bit about her personality.<br />
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then i was frantic getting everything ready to send to <a href="http://christinebucktontillman.com/" target="_blank">christine</a> for CHROMA - the permanent edition. and making sure big huge sheets of plexi made it to the site on time [there were some issues, but nothing that was devastating. thank goodness].<br />
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and then.... well... first i had a little art retreat in the berkshires. my grad school friend <a href="https://www.artsy.net/artist/freddy-chandra" target="_blank">freddy </a> and his husband bought a 21 room farmhouse in the berkshires ! [yes ! it is as grand and funky and cool as you might imagine].<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjklkhhEmkkRv-OO5cOtY_44X0f6_0IZO0hNUUPI_jAbCXA8KN04HxGrP05BeFG1gZiLuxxaonA8A9-HAkIasT4oBBCaAIFjEY8HxcqDmvzM3yw0AX7KABodkXxGVWrl5Izsg5Wg/s1600/IMG_2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjklkhhEmkkRv-OO5cOtY_44X0f6_0IZO0hNUUPI_jAbCXA8KN04HxGrP05BeFG1gZiLuxxaonA8A9-HAkIasT4oBBCaAIFjEY8HxcqDmvzM3yw0AX7KABodkXxGVWrl5Izsg5Wg/s640/IMG_2012.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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this is their stairwell. with vintage wall paper. it was amazing. </div>
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they also have a yellow barn !</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeg2sfVAJf_EN32NSF9XHUKN_KEefH6kB1q4EucL3TdVA-FUYqsmM2LYj_5d5F9YHSSlZMaQwIIbjLYpdssqEKFABRH8y1Jm7TC7qJwxxXwOHbgHMpnhvfrZ78NJFpy-M4tC4gWQ/s1600/IMG_2023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeg2sfVAJf_EN32NSF9XHUKN_KEefH6kB1q4EucL3TdVA-FUYqsmM2LYj_5d5F9YHSSlZMaQwIIbjLYpdssqEKFABRH8y1Jm7TC7qJwxxXwOHbgHMpnhvfrZ78NJFpy-M4tC4gWQ/s640/IMG_2023.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhel9gIohsk-mg3KdjCSB_7VogitsJ_wH9rhdnMSBFkOguP7pC6hV8BJ_a_HGecFR5TgKNSOZJ9GLhfUJeFbTBGt6_L6y_pVc8xiL79ewsrBKB0QxwmeKqGOf6nJ5schgMctN6whw/s1600/IMG_1951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhel9gIohsk-mg3KdjCSB_7VogitsJ_wH9rhdnMSBFkOguP7pC6hV8BJ_a_HGecFR5TgKNSOZJ9GLhfUJeFbTBGt6_L6y_pVc8xiL79ewsrBKB0QxwmeKqGOf6nJ5schgMctN6whw/s640/IMG_1951.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNWQDFtWGqIULqd5ri6RGsnZQ28Pyj9bz0yat1neceL8JHIZL3_IRN7_K2i3XyxGOmzmFbAMh_79ja0llz72UNQOC0_iIEyMYb7DwGD6NyXexCqCO6juyFa1DA-EirtvPBUJ6IA/s1600/IMG_1957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNWQDFtWGqIULqd5ri6RGsnZQ28Pyj9bz0yat1neceL8JHIZL3_IRN7_K2i3XyxGOmzmFbAMh_79ja0llz72UNQOC0_iIEyMYb7DwGD6NyXexCqCO6juyFa1DA-EirtvPBUJ6IA/s640/IMG_1957.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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we went to the <a href="https://hancockshakervillage.org/" target="_blank">hancock shaker village</a>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8r4ZMOqytK6s0uQAkf50-EIrDT_n40feWNmfqhOCsWKA32jpP_MMVoUAsR770D2h2f8g8-thcUyUx2B2Goq597y7qw0fYwBbj2sT8s3qqheRsLeQICXuTzw_-tsNeJreexIVsg/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8r4ZMOqytK6s0uQAkf50-EIrDT_n40feWNmfqhOCsWKA32jpP_MMVoUAsR770D2h2f8g8-thcUyUx2B2Goq597y7qw0fYwBbj2sT8s3qqheRsLeQICXuTzw_-tsNeJreexIVsg/s640/IMG_1955.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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which yes has saker boxes. these were MINIATURE [died]. and yes. i am now thinking about <a href="http://www.shakerovalbox.com/" target="_blank">getting kits</a> and making them myself. it's a huge place, and they've kept it authentic. you can walk into any/all of the buildings and just poke around. </div>
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one they turned into a gallery... there was a cool <a href="http://www.mayalin.com/" target="_blank">maya lin </a>piece in there</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucbei-Z_DlFXqI8yoXW2xV9G09XTzA8ASvS7RKbFO4eOphDhVwuGyW0K9KB7nEHFibx_QtAnEmExllKPNmwYgTAljN2bqDaJD55cJBEjdMHLKAvH0RRmFTloOBRREYd3ex9UQXg/s1600/IMG_1939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucbei-Z_DlFXqI8yoXW2xV9G09XTzA8ASvS7RKbFO4eOphDhVwuGyW0K9KB7nEHFibx_QtAnEmExllKPNmwYgTAljN2bqDaJD55cJBEjdMHLKAvH0RRmFTloOBRREYd3ex9UQXg/s640/IMG_1939.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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there was a working wood shop. [i died from the small boxes with small drawers]. below is a cool human powered band saw. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ExrRFZ7jf_UsHeMGkTa-RzYuA8ud_1V_fdhNE_M2qPfbh5-FMST6UOnHeiVgFfDHpXoi94XbPDBVqZF3_DWtgOsKbGVVmsBtcwkRaKjJQVB2SnORIVsYmTvcN-A0TH5mJCf1uQ/s1600/IMG_1943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ExrRFZ7jf_UsHeMGkTa-RzYuA8ud_1V_fdhNE_M2qPfbh5-FMST6UOnHeiVgFfDHpXoi94XbPDBVqZF3_DWtgOsKbGVVmsBtcwkRaKjJQVB2SnORIVsYmTvcN-A0TH5mJCf1uQ/s640/IMG_1943.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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a working blacksmith shop where we saw a guy make a hook. [he was kind of surprised how into it we were]. below is a cool nail "chart" i found. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSZgzrwLrqTvJVF57hZQBlu69UPv45_WWNaFqoDnOSIXWBbx6ox6xKEloMl_koHKEyNXMqUltDG7ehSnaUZgOkspX_AS7A80zLNpBWLS8ME4NnJobBqqI5kc8TCDKcADTPKyLoA/s1600/IMG_1944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSZgzrwLrqTvJVF57hZQBlu69UPv45_WWNaFqoDnOSIXWBbx6ox6xKEloMl_koHKEyNXMqUltDG7ehSnaUZgOkspX_AS7A80zLNpBWLS8ME4NnJobBqqI5kc8TCDKcADTPKyLoA/s640/IMG_1944.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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schoolhouse !</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaamOuzk8-lfEI9OQZIVrrBr07ZW5CCvCzZs1yARkJcwx6i4ex72V3hdqWCVO-lAxC9M98pSj9kSJT-hadsJ_MDqao9aM-sZjiZXUhQXL9DljYPIyxTsxiqmvNGvomb-kafhvzw/s1600/IMG_1945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaamOuzk8-lfEI9OQZIVrrBr07ZW5CCvCzZs1yARkJcwx6i4ex72V3hdqWCVO-lAxC9M98pSj9kSJT-hadsJ_MDqao9aM-sZjiZXUhQXL9DljYPIyxTsxiqmvNGvomb-kafhvzw/s640/IMG_1945.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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those pegboards really do come in handy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWOyLp1Cg86sJsGf083iwWEXsKRCqEe6N1cTHNyZyqxw_7AUuyZLkWdaRkqBnCzP1rCURkyOarnao-tczvTaXzryKsgj15YijNwyZ-GNgcmbxQLPiQfj4QYPIaB3kQ0ghPZks7w/s1600/IMG_1947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWOyLp1Cg86sJsGf083iwWEXsKRCqEe6N1cTHNyZyqxw_7AUuyZLkWdaRkqBnCzP1rCURkyOarnao-tczvTaXzryKsgj15YijNwyZ-GNgcmbxQLPiQfj4QYPIaB3kQ0ghPZks7w/s640/IMG_1947.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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also a whole giant structure dedicated to washing clothes. there were low rafters in the attic where they would hang and dry clothes in the winter when you couldn't do it outside from all the snow. </div>
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the wooden drying rack below was sooooooo beautiful. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4qX0EJV1bNw94DayzGyLLFOmiUB_zE1VwxVkLzeUgJmoHF76Q-awqAc2r7r0VgXzuO8eTcLc0SGGoh8bN0VWj3zLaHP8f2kALeYISatzDBja-XFZGQUp3Ta7xQ-LcbhfvKSLTw/s1600/IMG_1950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4qX0EJV1bNw94DayzGyLLFOmiUB_zE1VwxVkLzeUgJmoHF76Q-awqAc2r7r0VgXzuO8eTcLc0SGGoh8bN0VWj3zLaHP8f2kALeYISatzDBja-XFZGQUp3Ta7xQ-LcbhfvKSLTw/s640/IMG_1950.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJEWDIe_o2_wgwJhX3pgyTvgPNzkxUpMCiPnGIwcEZ33ypIxU_Ukp-QN5Hed4z05C7HgAbTj14_FzzgvPmFaGhhrTO5H0T8ITuAetEcWfeDRm6JyG-QmByS26PuvmUsMs1sN4DHA/s1600/IMG_2004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJEWDIe_o2_wgwJhX3pgyTvgPNzkxUpMCiPnGIwcEZ33ypIxU_Ukp-QN5Hed4z05C7HgAbTj14_FzzgvPmFaGhhrTO5H0T8ITuAetEcWfeDRm6JyG-QmByS26PuvmUsMs1sN4DHA/s640/IMG_2004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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the next day we went to <a href="http://massmoca.org/?gclid=CIrc3M-j-tUCFV6ewAodBm4EqQ" target="_blank">MASS MOCA</a> - which is just massive. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhSbwybxnX5krzhIBOMWHJsCMYMf9drKDixZ6sZi5TqYuPLA75w_vJBj7ZsKxuo7-Hl0dglHTNMs1DYpNvZrhbsDFKKF0LNXF5uDLW81AWsKXAZ9iyFpjxs-SCbcYWeqN6r2oLw/s1600/IMG_1971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhSbwybxnX5krzhIBOMWHJsCMYMf9drKDixZ6sZi5TqYuPLA75w_vJBj7ZsKxuo7-Hl0dglHTNMs1DYpNvZrhbsDFKKF0LNXF5uDLW81AWsKXAZ9iyFpjxs-SCbcYWeqN6r2oLw/s640/IMG_1971.JPG" width="360" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPzFAehfSrcWQ8NxFheD7KPPLCy8rtv9kwWILYh1RybRFSPhvxVvUHJEW4QgtEZnzMSEaaS6iyOkI0654iI9L2lsFb1wW3Zch6-ceOaUIzSnaR5g2p9lpeilYkMmO78zhWlXFRQ/s1600/IMG_1972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPzFAehfSrcWQ8NxFheD7KPPLCy8rtv9kwWILYh1RybRFSPhvxVvUHJEW4QgtEZnzMSEaaS6iyOkI0654iI9L2lsFb1wW3Zch6-ceOaUIzSnaR5g2p9lpeilYkMmO78zhWlXFRQ/s640/IMG_1972.JPG" width="360" /></a></div>
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there was a small <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louise_Bourgeois" target="_blank">lousie bourgeois</a> show. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLDHarFpLXF9fAGQ-luQEimBcuuN71QSfZK8vveIOFgLzu2TQLpfM_z70G4pya_yoAHGq-5lARXIwSktpHYfU00E2sizaUp9IAwgIZ5AR3SLrfooRRGscFxa4PfrSbXiTocFKkg/s1600/IMG_1973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLDHarFpLXF9fAGQ-luQEimBcuuN71QSfZK8vveIOFgLzu2TQLpfM_z70G4pya_yoAHGq-5lARXIwSktpHYfU00E2sizaUp9IAwgIZ5AR3SLrfooRRGscFxa4PfrSbXiTocFKkg/s640/IMG_1973.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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a turrell show - which was similar the the LACMA one i <a href="http://lisasolomon-musings.blogspot.com/2014/02/the-temple-of-turrell.html" target="_blank">describe here</a> - but it's turrell. can i see too much turrell? no. i can not. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp-2oPUvVzOWAHcX_20A0bJoABEBLhQsfgf9HKId8kMTm_XrUAiEooO1oijei-THmFmnRk1prmXXS9SXquqQrY-K-56ySys9Zns35Dk6oSt84PvIxwxIZCXNfrMxEbRl57NugPQ/s1600/IMG_2006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp-2oPUvVzOWAHcX_20A0bJoABEBLhQsfgf9HKId8kMTm_XrUAiEooO1oijei-THmFmnRk1prmXXS9SXquqQrY-K-56ySys9Zns35Dk6oSt84PvIxwxIZCXNfrMxEbRl57NugPQ/s640/IMG_2006.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65XcCeIm3IKN2ZAFAleD-lKEcMLqID6qy02DVcI4cQBitmcC9alJUGJQiyzSO_P-F0rDMPAQMEbcUSxbZJcK73kKK1YWGdeo0uSi5LmfsY3FR4W1tU1JW6EkAs9WMs1tHCPnyvw/s1600/IMG_1968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65XcCeIm3IKN2ZAFAleD-lKEcMLqID6qy02DVcI4cQBitmcC9alJUGJQiyzSO_P-F0rDMPAQMEbcUSxbZJcK73kKK1YWGdeo0uSi5LmfsY3FR4W1tU1JW6EkAs9WMs1tHCPnyvw/s640/IMG_1968.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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a once in a lifetime 3 floor, 105, made by 60+ people, you'll never see this many together ever again except the show is up through 2033 so YOU CAN, <a href="http://massmoca.org/event/sol-lewitt-a-wall-drawing-retrospective/" target="_blank">sol le witt wall drawing exhibition </a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_pb7KeyJb4Zc92LOdmcOeCxiRLnv9s7OB_sYRlKedFwUej9IarChdL4WVe4x9JUhjMekQh6V7h8oteJjkE2lAnfg2bD2fSoVVxu632qWAUP-2KAmhXsByzSVZZw0rzhrduqoAQ/s1600/IMG_1997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_pb7KeyJb4Zc92LOdmcOeCxiRLnv9s7OB_sYRlKedFwUej9IarChdL4WVe4x9JUhjMekQh6V7h8oteJjkE2lAnfg2bD2fSoVVxu632qWAUP-2KAmhXsByzSVZZw0rzhrduqoAQ/s640/IMG_1997.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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if you are unfamiliar with the work, he just creates the instructions. you, he, anyone can then "perform" them on any wall. </div>
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my favorite was this blue chalk line one. </div>
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SWOON. and i want to do it somewhere. like now. </div>
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but the REAL reason i wanted to go to mass moca so badly was the <a href="http://www.jackshainman.com/artists/nick-cave/" target="_blank">nick cave</a> installation.</div>
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I AM A FAN. seriously. his use of materials [ordinary and culturally significant, vintage and re-purposed]. the scale [massive and overwhelming - and yet still delicate]. the color. the sheer joy and play with the undercurrent of racism, classism, gender that runs consistently. </div>
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i still can't believe we were allowed to climb up these giant yellow ladders to peer at the top of the chandelier island.<br />
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then we went to <a href="http://www.clarkart.edu/" target="_blank">the clark</a>.... as we approached i had a sneaking familiarity. the architecture, the use of materials, the walls obstructing and directing your view. it felt a lot like<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tadao_Ando" target="_blank"> tado ando</a>. </div>
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and indeed it was. the frankenthaler show was lovely, and the collection there is impressive. especially the library and the research access</div>
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but really, really it's the setting. the view. there's a reflection pool that simply takes your breath away. literally. i kept practically hitting freddy and jumping up and down. it was just so beautiful. </div>
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looking out ^^^<br />
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looking back at the main building ^^^ [these photos don't it justice]</div>
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this visit <a href="http://projects.jennyholzer.com/" target="_blank">jenny holzer </a>seemed to be following me around. there was work at the shaker village, the clark and mass moca. fine with me as i really like her work, but this little plaque seemed incredibly apropo ....</div>
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more on my summer next time.... </div>
lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-19186589698028417952017-05-25T14:58:00.001-07:002017-05-25T14:58:49.924-07:00wanna contribute to CHROMA?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
hello.</div>
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missed me? </div>
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i've been thinking a lot and wanting to write, i even wrote some notes about this topic that i've been thinking about for years, but i haven't had the mental space to get anywhere with it. in the meantime, let me see if i can persuade you to send us your colorful junk. if you haven't already been inundated with my chroma posts elsewhere... or if you have but are wondering how long we will be collecting...</div>
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SIX WEEKS PEOPLE.</div>
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we have about 6 more weeks to collect stuff. so if you got em, send em. doodads, bits, bobs... <a href="http://christinebucktontillman.com/" target="_blank">christine</a> and i are getting ready to permanently install your goodies in washington dc this summer. </div>
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<a href="http://chroma-installation.tumblr.com/post/157038755215/hello-from-the-top-of-chroma-guess-what-we-are" target="_blank">learn more on the blog </a></div>
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you can send them to:</div>
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PO BOX 99534 </div>
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Emeryville, CA 94662</div>
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this time we are permanently gluing them onto plexiglass. i was at tap plastics yesterday finalizing our order and spied these plastic boxes of goodness [which sparked a conversation of remember these when you were a kid with your name dot lettered on them???]. i didn't buy, but i thought of getting a small rainbow stack. </div>
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<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-24964646174194060342017-04-27T16:20:00.000-07:002017-04-27T16:20:05.377-07:00FULL week !<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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hello. this week there will no rambling post about some sort of deep thought because this week there is no time for thinking. only installing and teaching. </div>
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i just arrived in sunny ventura for <a href="http://dearhandmadelife.com/craftcation-conference/presenters/?subject=lineup&_year=2017&artist=131" target="_blank">CRAFTCATION 2017</a> where i will be teaching 2 classes - color theory for artists/designers and embroidery, as well as sitting on a panel about being a maker parent - [if you are here please be sure and say hello !]</div>
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but only AFTER i spent the last 2 days installing my <a href="https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Senninbari" target="_blank">Senninbari </a>[1000 french knot] piece at <a href="http://artmarketsf.com/" target="_blank">SF Artmarket </a>which opens TONIGHT at 6pm and runs through sunday. </div>
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luckily i had many helpers. 4 on tuesday and 3 yesterday, along w/ 2 double decker scaffolds, 3 drills, 3 levels, and one laser level to make it all happen. </div>
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it is at the entrance [holy smokes] so you literally can not miss it as you walk in.</div>
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so if you go, please let me know - and if you post any pictures on the instagram - be sure and tag me - <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lisasolomon/" target="_blank">@lisasolomon</a> <span id="goog_1971021017"></span><span id="goog_1971021018"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>so i can see them??? especially since i won't be there except just in time on sunday to take it all down. short but sweet. </div>
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more install photos.... and they were lighting the piece and loading the last bits of art as i left.... behind the scenes.....</div>
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<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7417066.post-49486626653961541242017-04-19T11:09:00.001-07:002017-04-20T07:43:32.556-07:00time storage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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this is the time of year that i am grading papers. yes. i assign papers in all my studio classes. fundamentally i see the act of writing as an act of thinking [in a nice moment of serendipity we can refer back to my bemoaning my lack of participation in this space]. over the years i have become resigned to the fact that the students i teach are grossly unprepared to write a simple 2 page response to a piece of artwork that they must view in person. as i explain to them putting your thoughts down on paper [even if it's virtual paper like an email] is not only important, but if you want to succeed "professionally" as an artist it is unavoidable. curators, collectors, gallerists, press people - someone at sometime is going to ask you to explain yourself in full - not only technically as in i want to build this and will use this and this, but conceptually as in this means this and is contributing to this dialogue in this way. if you can't... well you are going to lose out on opportunities. it's a simple fact [and not an alternative one].</div>
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i've been thinking that in some ways we are too comfortable compartmentalizing our arts and that many people feel that they only need to respond in kind - aka we think visual is visual so we critique with our eyes, music is auditory and so we only need to listen, but in reality it is language that we utilize to universally critique and discuss. we can't express emotions or insights solely through facial expressions [although i've been told i never hide mine on my face]. i wish there was an easy way to connect all our senses and engage them - god why can't we MIND MELD. and sometimes i wish i had <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synesthesia" target="_blank">synesthesia</a> so that i wouldn't just see and feel colors but hear them too. </div>
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i have experienced and witnessed the formulation of a new idea through a search for words. i try to explain to my students that in the simple act of attempting to accurately describe, you might stumble upon a thought that leads you down an interesting path. maybe the piece isn't actually about what you thought it was at first glance. maybe there is more there. or less. who knows. what happens when you filter a work through your own personal experience. can you delve deeper to really determine what motivates your like, dislike, awe, captivation with a work? </div>
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every semester i harp on my students about words like "unique" and "colorful" and how inadequate they are as descriptors. we are all "unique" and delicate flowers right? "colorful" - please don't get me started. maybe i find this most offensive because i feel like my life is a daily study in color and i can't stand to trivialize it. in my head the questions mount: well what do you mean by that? rainbow? cool colors? colors that match? colors that clash? complementary colors [and which ones at that]? are the colors layered? are they local? are they all at the same saturation? </div>
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when we are young we literally don't have the vocabulary to express complex thoughts. in fact we work really hard to figure out shortcuts to make ourselves understood. for example my daughter called toast "pop" for a couple weeks before she learned the word toast... "pop" was the sound that the toaster made right? i got it, she got what she wanted, everything good. </div>
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along those same lines something interesting can happen when we don't have immediate or easy access - even to something like language [here we are again - the magic happens in a space where we feel least comfortable]. i had one paper in my stack written by a non-native [chinese] english speaker. they actually speak english really well - enough to joke - i sort of think that's when you are really have a grasp on a language - when you can crack a joke. it's hard. there's subtlety and tone involved. but none the less - they obviously haven't spent a lot of time writing formal papers in english. or even thinking about how to respond to visual things in english.</div>
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{{if you are my friend on facebook i apologize for the repeat as i posted this paragraph there as well, but i can't stop thinking about it so here it is again.}} in response to a chinese golden belt buckle treasure from eons ago they wrote:</div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "san francisco" , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">At the very beginning - "unique", "beautiful", these kinds of words were the representation of artworks in my mind. But now I realize that artwork is not only an object, it is also a piece of time storage. In art you can see the expression which comes from differe</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "san francisco" , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">nt times and spaces, you can appreciate different tastes from several histories and cultures, you can also learn some lessons. Now in my mind, artworks are not pieces of works anymore, they have their own meaning and value. They are all treasures!</span></i></div>
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this is when i get giddy as a teacher. i mean COME ON. if a native english speaker had written this i wouldn't have been impressed in the least - context is everything, but in an earnest search for a way to describe their epiphany the nail was hit on the head. and the idea of TIME STORAGE - what is not to like about that?!? it's sort of the simplest and most direct way to talk about something we have such a hard time really talking about.</div>
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what the f*c& is art's role in our society? i don't think any "cultural producer" sits down to tackle the long term ramifications of what it is they're creating. did that belt buckle maker have an inkling of a clue that their object would be seen thousands of years later and used as a moniker of discussing gift giving traditions and mythology of ancient chinese culture? NOPE.</div>
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for all our wanting of time machines and/or the ability to read people's minds, perhaps we should simply start by looking around us. every piece of plastic, what we wear, the photos we take continually on your phone [i keep thinking in many ways i have spent 10 years now taking the same photo over and over] - each of these offers a clue to who we are, and collectively what we find important. i've thought this forever [<a href="http://thekeepsakeproject.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">even did a project about it right? </a>], but often think the real question is how do these things that having meaning - how do they store time? and how will they be interpreted in the future? i don't actually think we should worry about it too much while we are making, but it's a pretty damn interesting ripple to follow as far out as i can. </div>
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if you made it this far you've realized that these visuals really have nothing to do with the text. i thought you might want to just look at some things to break up my rambling. but this last image... i got to see <a href="http://www.kellyinouye.com/" target="_blank">kelly inouye's</a> show at <a href="http://www.statespacesf.com/" target="_blank">state space sf</a> last week... and it's GOOD. really really good. all about fantasy island, and homemade sparkly watercolor paints... it's kind of like a double time storage if you ask me.... you go see it and let's talk about that. </div>
<br />lisa solomonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11824254691379334918noreply@blogger.com1