We’ve had just about the most perfect spring here this year—with weather so unseasonably sunny, for weeks on end, that it simply would be criminal not to get outside for every second one can. On days like this, work can wait awhile—and the camera moves to the front burner. When the sun is shining here, a perfect moment is never hard to find.
If you’ve read about the squash in our attic, our crazy food-shopping habits, and my illustrated political rants—you probably already know that the Tailor and I are freakishly into sustainability. So you can imagine how happy I was when our lovely new local food co-op asked me to design a reusable water bottle for them. I’m honored to be the first Tacoma artist in what we hope will become a series of limited-edition artist-designed bottles.
What I love most about this is that the bottles are manufactured by the kind folks at Liberty Bottle Works—right across the mountains in Yakima, WA. Thus far, at least, Liberty is the only U.S. manufacturer of metal water bottles. So being able to support an industry right in my own state was a big deal for me.
The hitch is that there are only 200 of these—once they’re gone, that’s it. So visit the Tacoma Food Coop, grab your bottle and fill ‘er up.
Wayzgoose worked like a well-oiled machine this year—and that’s the way we like it.
(Even if we were just a little extra tired afterward.)
We were finally able to have the event in the parking lot next door, which allowed way more people to gather ’round the steamroller—and gave the artists more elbow room for spreading ink and chatting it up.
Steamroller prints by Ric Matthies (left) and Charles Wright Academy students (right)
The usual suspects were up to all kindsa good on Sunday—
Our print (left), Beautiful Angle (center), Maggie Roberts (right)
—and it was fun for Jessica and me to come back after a year off.
Photo by Victoria Bjorklund
This year, we added something a little different to the mix—just like we did in 2011 in San Francisco. After Jessica inked up the block…
Photo by Victoria Bjorklund
…and the steamroller packed its punch…
Photo by Victoria Bjorklund
…I set up shop across the parking lot, adding a few hand-colored touches to the piece.
Here’s the finished product—and for those of you who don’t happen to live in T-town, I’ll need to provide a little back-story. You probably recognize the reference to Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, but there’s a second tribute to pop artist Andy Warhol, as well. And I’m not just talking about Venus herself—to whom Warhol did pay homage in 1984.
You see, over thirty years ago now, Warhol was one of several artists to propose a permanent public artwork to adorn the roof of the Tacoma Dome. Not only was his proposal rejected at the time, but the whole project resulted in an enormous backlash of public opinion, insurance nightmares and political in-fighting—which literally derailed the city’s entire public art program for nearly two decades afterward. Fast-forward to today: not only is our public art program back in the saddle and going strong, but now there’s a growing movement to put Warhol’s flower on the Dome after all—which, in fact, would be the world’s largest Warhol original.
Whom do we have to thank for both the…uh…Renaissance of our public art program, and the push to bring Warhol back? Our wonderful City Arts Administrator, Amy McBride (click to see her talk about the Warhol story)—who, incidentally, drove the steamroller that printed our Venus linocut on Sunday.
How’s that for coming full-circle, huh?
Many thanks to everyone who stopped by on Sunday, and to Amy and the Tacoma Arts Commission for continuing to make art happen—both for Wayzgoose and for Tacoma.
Yesterday was such a beautiful day, and my hands so badly needed a break from carving, that I took a day off and headed upstate to bask in the tulip fields.
And then, when I got home, there was a postcard waiting for me from my friend Jen—from her own tulip tour in the Netherlands.
I’m taking that as a sign that playing hooky yesterday was the right idea.
It’s that time of year again: the trees are blooming outside, and inside we’re playing with knives. The ninth (!) annual Tacoma Wayzgoose is one week from today—and if we’re really lucky, Jessica and I might just finish carving our design by then. As usual, we’ll reveal the whole design that day, but until then, this little peek might look familiar…
If you’re new to my tiny u-bend of the Intertubes, you might ask: what the heck is a Wayzgoose? It’s a festival celebrating the art of printing, a tradition that goes back hundreds of years. Here in T-town, our party mobile is a steamroller—yes, ma’am—and we churn out giant-sized linocuts in the street to mark the occasion. If you’re local, come on by and get ink on your jeans:
9th Annual Tacoma Wayzgoose
Sunday, April 28, 2013
11 am to 4 pm, Free!
King’s Books
218 St. Helens Avenue, Tacoma, WA
In the meantime, you can whet your appetite with a stroll down Amnesia Lane—take a look at the ghosts of Wayzgeese past:
• 2009 (Tacoma)
• 2010 (Tacoma)
• 2011 (Tacoma)
• 2011 (San Francisco)
• 2012 (Tacoma)
See you next week, rain or shine!
Sending healing thoughts to one of my home cities, one of my favorite cities, tonight. Be well, people of Boston. Stay strong.
Well, I can finally let you in on the secret, because “coming soon” is about to be switched to “now open.” My friend Susan has spent years building her children’s apparel business, Dandelion Wishes, from idea to brick-and-mortar store—and I’m the lucky gal she asked to help her develop the look and brand of her shop.
Susan is putting the finishing touches on the place, and making sure everything is pitch-perfect for her grand opening this weekend—
while I’m piecing together (literally!) the final visual details.
(I’ll reveal more about that on the blog at a later date; or if you’re local, come to the grand opening and see for yourself!)
Dandelion Wishes isn’t your average kids’ store; this is something really special. Susan has curated a beautiful collection of clothing, accessories and gifts that paints a picture of what she believes in (and so do I): Support independent artisans. Buy local and domestic whenever possible. Choose natural fibers over synthetic ones. Offer the highest quality available. Bring these ideals into affordable balance and you’ll bring good design within reach.
Since Susan’s shop is so invested in this story, I wanted to create a story out of the shop. Together we invented a world of characters and narratives that make stepping into the shop feel like stepping into a children’s book. Each character has a story and a secret wish—which we’re hinting at now but will reveal more fully as time goes by.
You’ve already met Ruby and her imaginary friend at the start of this post.
And here’s the rest of our quintet. Once we had our full cast of characters, it made building the shop’s collection of clothing much easier. All of a sudden, Susan was piecing together the wardrobes of actual people with personalities and tastes and preferences—rather than just an inventory list in her head.
I loved weaving the stories behind each character—
—and getting to mix actual clothing samples with whatever else I felt like dreaming up.
As the seasons change—
—and so do the kids’ outfits—
we’ll be creating new stories and scenes to go with them. Keep an eye on the shop’s website to watch the tale unfold.
In the meantime, I already find myself thinking of these kids as real people that I know—and wondering what they’d think of each idea I sketch out for the future.
So help Susan make a splash with Dandelion Wishes—if you’re in the Tacoma area, stop by the shop this weekend. And look for an online shop to appear soon.
For now, I’m going to ask Frank what his summer plans are.
It’s hard to believe it’s been two years since the last one, but a few weeks ago I was back for my second showing at the Codex International Bookfair. The four-day fair was at a new venue this year—a space so gorgeous I had to break out the ol’ sketchbook.
This year (and hopefully every year from here on out) we were hosted by the Craneway Pavilion in Richmond, CA. Now a part of Rosie the Riveter National Historic Park (bonus points for being part of something else I love), the former Ford plant was used as a major military plant during World War II.
We had completely outgrown the old Codex stomping grounds in Berkeley—so while none of us knew what to expect of the new space, we were just hoping it would be big enough to fit a couple hundred artists under one roof.
We got way more than we bargained for—the space is absolutely cavernous. The bookfair was every bit as overwhelming as last time (just try looking at a few thousand pieces of art in four days!), but the Craneway gave the perfect breathing room to do the artwork justice. With its huge banks of windows and three-story ceiling, it almost felt like I was spending each day outdoors. I hated leaving at the end of each day.
And besides—this was the view from my table. Is there anything better than showing your work on one of the best chunks of real estate in the Bay Area? (Though I have to admit, every morning that one—admittedly awesome—Journey song would pop into my head, just like it always does when I’m in the area.*)
Occasionally I had to remind myself that I wasn’t just there to stare out the window, or bask in the sunshine on the dock outside, or scribble in my sketchbook. But I’m grateful to report that I had a nearly constant stream of visitors to my table to bring me back to reality when I needed it.
Huge props to all the folks who made the commute up to Richmond from San Francisco and Oakland (including Sarah and M-A for their help manning the table!)—judging by the comments I heard all week, you liked the new space as much as I did. And many thanks to all the return visitors from two years ago who came back to say hello (special shout-out to Adam!) or leave me with their own goodies. It felt great to be welcomed back.
One last thing: major thanks to Kate Farnady, who created this off-the-cuff stop-motion video of my Local Conditions book, right in the middle of our conversation about it. You made my day.
Codex, I’ll see you in two years—with any luck, right there on the waterfront again.
* Okay, you are not going to believe this, but as I wrote that sentence, that song came up on shuffle in my iTunes! Cross my heart. I’m officially freaked out now…
This has not been an easy post to write—and yet in a way it’s been writing itself over and over again, for years now. To be honest, Jessica and I designed this broadside months ago, and planned to release it shortly after last year’s theater shooting in Aurora, CO. Other projects got in the way, and then the 2012 election persuaded us to table the piece for the time being.
We should have known: until there’s serious change in our society, this subject will always be hatefully relevant.
So here we are again, on the heels of yet another rash of terrible violence. But this time feels different—not only because of the sheer horror of the Newtown tragedy, but because at last, our country is having the conversation it needs to have.
At the center of the debate is the precarious balance of right and responsibility—and here’s where I need to keep from shooting my mouth off. I’ve written and deleted a hundred sentences about Jessica’s and my personal thoughts on the subject—but I have a feeling you can already guess what they are. And we also recognize that our beliefs represent just one side of our divided culture. So the thought of pontificating just wearies and saddens us; we’d much rather focus on how we might move forward, together.
For us, that meant starting with an attempt to comprehend the other side of the debate. So in hoping to understand the love of guns many in our country share, we looked to legendary sharpshooter Annie Oakley, whose words pierce the heart of the matter:
Aim at a high mark, work for the future.
This piece is a stark, steely contrast to the bright colors and detailed embellishments of the rest of the series. Annie stands her ground beside a blazing metallic bullseye, representing the golden target of sanity amid the scatter-shot opinions and half-cocked sniping of those on the extremist fringes. And let me tell you: there’s real gold in that ink. Jessica mixes her own formula—maybe it’ll shine all the brighter, and help steady our collective aim.
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Gun Shy: No. 17 in the Dead Feminists series
Edition size: 151
Poster size: 10 x 18 inches
Printed on an antique Vandercook Universal One press, on archival, 100% rag (cotton) paper. Each piece is numbered and signed by both artists.
The edition number we choose for each print in our series is always significant in some way—whether we call attention to it or not. In the case of Gun Shy, we’ve created an edition of 151 prints to represent each person injured or killed in a shooting rampage in 2012. In light of that sobering number, we’ve chosen to donate a portion of our proceeds to Demand A Plan. A campaign of Mayors Against Illegal Guns, Demand a Plan is a national, bipartisan coalition working to make America’s communities safer by keeping illegal guns out of dangerous hands.
Colophon reads:
Annie Oakley (1860 – 1926) was born Phoebe Ann Mosey (or Moses) near Greenville, Ohio. Her Quaker parents raised seven children on their farm until Annie’s father was caught in a blizzard and succumbed to pneumonia. By age ten, Annie was sent to the poor farm, then to live with an abusive family for several years. She escaped back to her mother’s home, taught herself to shoot a rifle, and quickly paid off their mortgage by selling game. In 1875 Annie defeated well-known marksman Frank Butler in a shooting contest — and married him shortly afterward. Annie became Butler’s assistant in his sharp shooting show, but as audiences clearly preferred Annie, the two soon switched roles. Annie was a curiosity, dressed in a homemade costume that modestly covered her petite frame but also allowed her to shoot with athletic grace. The couple joined Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West show, where Annie performed for 17 years, traveling to New York, Paris and London. Upon seeing her shoot the wick off a burning candle, the famous Chief Sitting Bull adopted Annie, bestowing the nickname “Watanya Cicilla” (Little Sure-Shot). In 1894 Thomas Edison captured her performance on film at his studio in New Jersey, making her the first cowgirl to appear in a motion picture.
Despite not being from the West, Annie defined our notion of a cowgirl as a self-reliant, strong woman. She advocated for equal pay, and went to great lengths to defend her reputation. She challenged William Randolph Hearst in a series of libel lawsuits over a false newspaper story, winning 54 of 55 cases at great personal expense. After her retirement in 1913, Annie continued to tour the country, teaching over 15,000 women how to use firearms responsibly.
Illustrated by Chandler O’Leary and printed by Jessica Spring, demanding that our federal government enact strict controls to end gun violence.
Available now in the Dead Feminists shop.
The next Dead Feminist broadside will be released in May 2013.
This weekend has given us that rarest of Northwest treats: winter sunshine. When that happens it’s also usually too cold to stand outside and draw, but this time it was worth the frozen fingertips to mark the occasion in my new daily book. That’s because the restoration of one of my favorite Tacoma landmarks is finally complete.
The Point Defiance Pagoda is one of the jewels in Tacoma’s crown. Built ninety-nine years ago, it began as a streetcar station and now stands as the centerpiece of our largest city park. It’s also a recurring character in my work—besides being iconic, it’s awfully fun to draw.
Detail of Continuum
It’s easy to forget how delicate our historic structures are, however. While I was working on this very portion of my Link Light Rail station design, I got word that the building was suddenly on the verge of ruin. Some kid had set fire to the pagoda—a few minutes of destructive boredom, and a hundred years went up in flames.
It was heartbreaking to hear the tales of Metro Parks officials, who had to watch firefighters toss the century-old ceramic roof tiles to the concrete ground to reach the burning beams inside.
In a way, though, maybe it’s a good thing it was the pagoda that burned, versus a lesser-known historic building. The public rallied, and restoration began almost immediately. Seven thousand roof tiles were hand-cleaned and reattached, and all fourteen of the original windows were salvaged. The restoration also allowed for the reintroduction or improvement of elements that had been remodeled away over the years—like the planting circle out front, or lighting that highlights the ornate roof beams inside (replacing the 1960s-era sconces that had been glommed on).
One of my illustrations for the Tacoma Playing Cards
And now it’s as if the fire never happened. More than that—at today’s grand reopening celebration I got a good glimpse of its original glory. Somehow I couldn’t quite repress the feeling that a streetcar might come around the corner at any moment.
My favorite part is that I no longer have to rely solely on a deck of cards for good memories of the pagoda. Now I can resume my visits to the real thing—sketchbook in hand, as always.
