I've been reading a little bit of everything (from John McPhee traveling with a trucker to My Year of Meats to the early history of Rochester) and then sitting out in the grass of my in process garden (snapdragons planted, tomatoes getting ready, tiny little strawberries tasty and basil, my friends, basil!) and letting it all brew together.

Likewise, I've been drawing strangers and random things, paying attention to a few visual projects (day-job related mostly) that have been a bit abandoned, and thinking about clay again (doesn't the world need a few more lumpy coffee cups? with drawings on them? hey, I thought so too!).

And while my creative work of late has been...undisciplined...it is (and by this I mean the daily work of sketchbook drawing, some sort reading/writing) filling the well, making me consider a bit more carefully what the project will be when I sit down in my studio and spend some time on the thing that needs to be created. In the end it will likely have a smidgen of the small strawberry taste, a bit of the mission of the meat book and the trucker reportage (without the preachiness of the former or the heroicizing of the latter), and with the joy of the making fully present in the thing made.

So then, come out and draw next Saturday!
best,
Rachael

If you'll be in Rochester on that day, please join us to draw...

Rachael

Last week like half of the country I had a lovely string of days off from work. Days to spend listening, eating, painting, car-hunting (bought one), re-friending (letter sending), and spending time with my favorite people. Sure, sure, I like my job but the best part of working is time off. I slept late and piddled away long stretches of time. What we do to feed our bodies is one thing, what we do to feed our selves is another.
And the break was just the right size, I think, because somewhere in the middle of all that time off I started to miss my regular routine. A nine to five with great people and a mission I believe in is good for me, keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. I would not change working everyday to help others make art in a hybrid amateur and professional context.

I've been staring at nasturtiums, the irises in bloom at the corner garden, and just about everything I can find to draw.
I brought some 6 x 6's down to ROCO the other day, especially since I really like the video they've put up of the For Drawing Sake show they had last fall (one of the best shows I've seen in a while but I am as partisan as they come).
The Alison Saar show was a nice treat, floating moths inside sculptures rewarded careful looking and the maternal themes, I think it's still up for a few more minutes so if you are in Rochester, get to see it. And if you're not, well, I can't tell you what to see or not see then.

Back to work, then, for there oughtta be pleasures and rewards in work and work in play. take care, Rachael

Last Monday, Lynda Barry came to town to spread the gospel of the creative process as is writ in her new book, What it is. Get a sense of it here in her Tin House graphic essay which is wrapped into the book. I got a chance to spend the morning in her writing workshop, the afternoon sitting in the sun drawing strangers, and the evening listening to her talk. She's an authentically gifted writer/artist, and very very very funny.

I was exhausted by the end (but she wasn't!) so I skipped the book signing but apparently she spent hours talking to everyone who wanted to talk to her. The messages she shared sounded to me like true truths. She is enormously productive as a creative being and the stuff she makes has a real power. The idea that anyone can write, sing, dance, and paint is one I'm already signed on to (by the nature of my work, my mission, and my daily mantras) but man did it feel good to listen to her sing it.


And then after trying to 'splain it to everyone last week, the New York Times published a page on the book, the workshops, the magic potion and I was able to clip it out and show it around.

I am still writing in my notebook. Still thinking about the ways I can keep incorporating these elements (the extra page to doodle as I write, the "don't read it for a week" rule, telling myself it's good, good, good at least at first) and I think I can.
Alright then, I'm gonna go draw and write and otherwise keep the stuff spilling out. Daily, freshly, honestly, and vividly. At least daily.

Rachael

thank you Lynda!