Fresh Paint

Fresh Paint Contemporary Art Fair, Tel Aviv (piece by Adam Sher)

Today was another fun day in Tel Aviv, best city in the world. Every time we go and I tell Mr. Rosen that I want to move there, he makes excuses for the awesomeness. Like, well today is the sabbath so there's not much traffic. Or this is an unusually cool day for May. I don't buy it. Tel Aviv is rad and that's all there is to it. I lived there in 1998 so I should know. Although we both recalled how I hated it. But I think that's because I had a crappy room in a crappy apartment with crappy roommates and a crappy job and my boyfriend lived in another crappy city...and my crappy bike was stolen...

But this day was totally non-crappy. First a lovely birthday party for our two-year old friend Liri whose parents we adore (Dad is also a fairly recent transplant from the SF Bay Area so we are grateful to have him in country). And then Mr. Rosen took the big kids to the beach and me and Toothy McSlobberChops met a friend at the Fresh Paint Contemporary Art Fair in North Tel Aviv. There was a lot of cool stuff to be sure, but yes, there was also a lot of art that, while technically impressive and/or interesting and/or creative, was not especially attractive. Alas, beauty is in the eye of the beholder of thousands of shekels. This art was not cheap.  But it was a lot of fun to see what's new and fresh on the Israeli art scene. The place was mobbed and we were kind encumbered with our babies in their strollers, but we maneuvered in and out of rooms and saw quite a bit of the fair. Here's a sampling...


Yonatan Levy


Adi Shalmon


Barak Bendel


Boaz Noy


Yuri Katz


Hila Laviv


Ran Barlev


Yonatan Ullman


Shlomi Nisim

Home

Home is available as a print on ETSY.

I don't know if it's because my son weaned himself this week after a nasty cold made it so he couldn't breathe and nurse at the same time. Or because we're nearing our six month milestone in Israel. Or because I'm starting to plan our trip to America in the summer and wondering how on earth we will see everyone we want to see and what it will feel like to be there. Or maybe because I keep fast forwarding ten years and my oldest is entering the army. All of it together has me feeling a little vulnerable.  I keep coming back to the idea of home. Where is it? What is home? What will it be for my kids. Is it worth fighting for? Is it worth dying for? Or is it just a place, like any other.

Mr. Rosen and I have spent a lot of time thinking about where we want to make our home and whether or not there is a perfect place for us and our family. We don't have the answer yet but we're getting closer. We might be over thinking it. It might be exactly where we are now. It might not be a place at all, but a connection we have to each other, tethering us to the present.

Song of Solomon

Behold, the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of singing is come,
and the voice of the turtle dove
is heard throughout the land.

Song of Solomon 2:11-12


ps. the painting to the left of Crawly McHands Off is available now as a print on ETSY.

Ducks in a pile

Do you ever decide you're going to get started on something - a project, an assignment, a new endeavor, a trip, a remodel, your life - but only when everything is aligned in your favor? When your ducks are in a row? This is my tendency. I wait until there's some kind of magic moment. Or, more accurately, I wait till I have enough time to myself to really focus and get down to business. It turns out I never have that kind of time. Even before the baby, when the big kids were in school and I had four hours every morning to work, it was really more like three hours after drop off and pick up. And more like two after I showered, did the laundry, went to the grocery store, picked up a birthday present or went to the post office. So by the time I got down to business I had maybe an hour and a half of unfettered time which I would decide was not enough and I would daydream instead. Or tinker. Or at my most productive I would print out and package some orders. But I would never paint. Painting required my undivided attention, partly because watercolor dries so fast that once you start, you sort of need to get to a good ending point, otherwise you have blotchy. (psst. Did you see how I just rationalized not painting, even as I write this short essay ostensibly about how to get over all that and move forward?)

So, true to character, I decided once things didn't work out with my babysitter and I was again a full-time companion to Sweet Cheeks McTiny Tush, I put my painting aspirations aside. Again. Babies are such a good excuse for so many things! Tardiness, flightiness, forgetfulness, looking tired and unkempt, being chubby, whipping out your boobs in public...and, yes, procrastination. And I figured I would wait until September when my baby will start going to a family daycare and I finally have the time I need to focus on my work.

But then a number of things happened. First I reached out to a friend asking how she managed to be such a prolific painter while her babies were little and she said she is all over the place. But she threw out the question, can you do your work in layers, like 15 minute increments? It's not really how I work. I need time. I need space. Because I hate taking out supplies and then putting them all back which is what you have to do when you work at the kitchen table.

Layers. 15 minute increments.

Then I went to this woman's website, having heard rave reviews about her workshops, and nearly fell over and died when I saw her work. It is so beautiful, it sings. It made me cry! And not because I wished I was her, which is where I usually go in these moments, but because I could see her joy spilled out in her work. That's when I got out the acrylics and some old canvases I had painted 10 years ago and, starting with the "grounds" technique I had learned at a workshop last year with Jesse Reno, I just put on paint and more paint while the baby napped. And for fifteen minute increments while he played. And at night if I wasn't too tired. And I let the layers dry, because that's what you kind of have to do with acrylic  before you can add another layer. I moved my box of supplies to the shelves next to the kitchen table and the oil cloth is now there semi-permanently. I'm just getting used to the acrylics and how they work and what I can do so there is much to learn, but I'm doing it.

So there it is. My ducks are in a pile, all squawky and flappy and cattywampus and I am happily painting almost every day.

In bloom

I unpacked the acrylics the other day and while Hot Cheeks McSnotface slept, I had some time to paint. I've become obsessed with weeds since Spring arrived and let me tell you there are some wild zingers over here. As beautiful as they are prickly. Not unlike Israeli women.*

* this does not apply to all of my exceptionally wonderful Israeli women friends.

A day in Tel Aviv

Fabric store on Nachalat Binyamin, Tel Aviv
 
Grandma flew home early Wednesday morning and the family is in a funk. Even with the rain and snow and leaky guest room we managed to have a pretty great time. I'll try to get some pics up from our travels over the next few days.  I don't know if it's because I'm new here but I just find I can't get enough of the view. The gritty cities. The rugged hills. The markets. The cafes. The graffiti. The museums. The shops. (The museum shops). I just find it all overwhelmingly inspiring. On Tuesday last week my mother-in-law babysat for the kids in the afternoon allowing us to spend the whole day in Tel Aviv (with the baby). We started out at Nachalat Binyamin, an open-air craft market downtown. Then we had lunch at HaMitbachon (the little kitchen) which specializes in home-cooking. We had the beef cous cous and eggplant spread on fresh baked bread. Yum. Then we walked a few blocks to a particularly charming neighborhood called Neve Tzedek, one of the first neighborhoods in Tel Aviv which is currently enjoying a renaissance. Boutiques, cafes and restaurants o'plenty. And the buildings, home to the rich and famous of Israel in many cases, have all been beautifully rennovated. And since it was the day before Purim, many locals were out in their scary/silly/skanky best. Here are a few of my favorite corners. I'll be back soon with some shots of Jerusalem too.


Purim party posters
 

Merav Danny, Nachalat Binyamin


Daniela Dori, Nachalat Binyamin


Osnat Shavit, Nachalat Binyamin


Ribbon store, Tel Aviv


Hamsas, Neve Tzedek


Ginger, Neve Tzedek


Gritty corner of Tel Aviv


Ayala Bar Shop, Neve Tzedek

Animal stack

 

They were all waiting to see if Yertle would show up. 

The suspense was killing them.

We have a bin full of plastic animals that my son used to play with but instead of having them roar at each other and flying them around the house making monkey noises like most kids, he used to try to stack them like blocks. Except they don't exactly stack. He'd have to balance each one on top of the other very carefully.  He figured out that he always had to start with the lion and then the hippo and then it was enough support to hold the cow, a kangaroo and sometimes the lamb on top. It was pretty incredible to watch.

These animals were inspired by our recent trip to the Jerusalem Zoo. It threatened to be a rainy and disgusting day so no one was there. Just us. Really. Maybe one other family. In the whole friggin zoo. The guy at the front let us in for half price explaining that half the animals would be inside because of the rain. In fact, it didn't rain. It was a gorgeous day. Most of the animals were out. And some of them were even stacked. OK, only the mosaic sculpture ones in the children's petting area. But pretty impressive nonetheless.

Pay it forward

In these last few weeks I have been especially enamored by the view over here - miles of terraced olive groves with their short stone retaining walls and the picturesque hillside villages they surround. But views here are often colored by the conflict. I try not to think about it too much.

Next week is Tu B'Shvat, a minor Jewish holiday to celebrate the trees and we've been gearing up by eating a lot of dried fruit and reading the Lorax. This new painting, called Fruitful, was inspired by a little passage from the Talmud (that has made its way into the Jewish summer camp storytelling canon. I don't actually read the Talmud regularly. Or ever, come to think of it). Has me thinking about the kind of legacy I want to leave for my own kids. Heavy stuff.

Once, while the sage, Honi, was walking along a road, he saw an old man planting a carob tree. Honi asked him: “How many years will it take for this tree to give forth its fruit?” The man answered that it would require 70 years. Honi asked: “Are you so healthy a man that you expect to live that length of time and eat its fruit?” The man answered: “I found a fruitful world because my ancestors planted it for me. So, too, will I plant for my children.” (Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 23a)

Available here.

How the universe sent me a babysitter - Part II

When I walked in to her little house on the prairie I immediately breathed in the smell of spice tea. It was toasty warm inside, clean but not sterile. Yael had the look of a home schooling, bread baking, granola rolling, all-terrain strolling, pioneer mama. I stayed for about forty minutes and we played with the babies. I nursed my boy. She nursed hers. We talked about how he sleeps, what he eats, how he motors across a carpet on elbows. He stared at everything with his giant eyes. When it was time for me to go he made the boo boo face and started to cry. I said goodbye and left him with Yael. And then I went to get a great big coffee from the cafe across main road. After, I went home and straightened up the house, did some laundry and generally felt happy to be alone. Really alone. Not the kind of alone where you still have a baby strapped on to you. We were separate and it was fine.

I picked him up two hours later. He had cried. But he also slept. I gave him the food I had made. He hadn't taken it from Yael. But she wasn't discouraged and neither was I. We wanted to make it work.

The next day we came straight after dropping off the big kids. He was tired and I didn't stay long so that she could put him to bed. Before I left she changed his diaper and sang his favorite song, Itsy Bitsy Spider, but in Hebrew. He calmed down. He was starting to connect to her. He cried again when I left but she texted soon after that he was asleep.

This time when I got home I got out my paints and a drawing, the third in a series, that I had sketched a while ago but never painted. So I painted it. The series is called Day of Rest. One panel is Sabbath Eve with the two candles, the glass of wine and the challah. The second panel is Sabbath day - a tree of life shading a quiet village. The third one, the one I just painted, is called Havdalah, the separation between the Sabbath and a new week, the symbols of which are the braided candle, the glass of wine and the spice box. It seemed the perfect theme to celebrate my own brief separation.

When I went back to Yael's he was awake and cried when he saw me. I nursed him and we snuggled. He relaxed.  He had slept a lot and eaten both jars of his food but still no bottle. In due time. While I was nursing him Yael asked me if I knew someone named Galit from the moshav. I asked, does she have a seven month old? Yes. A few weeks before I had been in the cafe with my kids and another family was there with some out of towners so they were speaking English. I guess the husband overheard us speaking English too and when we were leaving he asked where we were from. We had a brief conversation about California because someone from his family was living there but I don't remember the details. Nice guy. They live in the moshav across from the cafe. A week later I was at our health clinic with the baby and I ran into the guy's wife with their seven month old. She asked, didn't I see you at the cafe? Yes. I gave her my card and said she should email me if she ever wanted to get together. I told her I work from home but I don't yet have childcare and I'm with the baby a lot. Hoping to find a sitter sometime soon...

That was Galit. Turns out Galit had given that card to Yael a few days later and mentioned she had met an American looking for some part time childcare. At that point in our conversation Yael went over to her jacket pocket and pulled out my card.

The universe is funny that way. Sometimes it expects you to take the last step and close the circle. Which is fine by me since I'm one who thinks we make our own fate. But I learned from a good friend not to  dismiss the powers of attraction and our abilities to draw exactly the right people at the right time into our lives.

A Studio with a View of Munich

I don't remember where I first discovered Stephanie's artwork - she's been featured all over the blogosphere and published in several books and magazines - but her signature style drew me to her blog where I found a kindred spirit. In fact her responses to my interview questions completely resonated with me down to the tiny details - like missing cranberry juice! (Seriously, Rest of the World, how are we Americans supposed to treat our urinary tract infections without cranberry juice!) She's been living in Germany for the last 15 years and now with her German artist husband and her two beautiful girls she juggles her studio work, her ETSY shop, her 12 countries in 12 months project and her teaching schedule. Her upcoming e-course Creative Courage is a practical guide that will help you clarify your own unique path and give you the tools you need to start making your goals real. It starts January 9 and you can sign up here.


1. How did you come to land in Germany/Munich?

I came and stayed for love :) Way back when, while I was studying Art back in the US, I met a German physics student who was working on his Ph.D. We fell in love, got married, and moved to Germany. We started out in Berlin, then moved to Heidelberg because of his job, then moved back to Berlin so that I could complete my Master's degree. After several years, that relationship ended - although we are still friends - and I met my husband Florian, who is also German and an artist. In 2005, we both completed our studies in Berlin and moved to his hometown of Munich.

2. Did you plan to stay as long as you have?

I had no idea. When I came over, I was 24 years old, fresh out of university, and I had two suitcases full of my belongings. Completely naive, but ready for adventure. I remember thinking that the food tasted more intensely in Europe, everything seemed richer and more exciting.

3. How was your language acquisition? Did you learn German when you arrived or did you already speak the language?

I spoke about 10 words of German when I arrived. After one month of living in former East Berlin (where at that time most people didn't speak any English in the shops), I realized that I HAD to learn German if I was going to be able to communicate with others in any kind of coherent way. Even with friends who spoke some English, at dinners and parties they would tire fairly quickly and start speaking German again. I tend to talk a lot, so I had a strong motivation to learn German quickly.

I went to a private language school where I took daily intensive, immersion classes in German - about 3 hours per day plus homework. We didn't have much money, so I think my language school was one of the cheapest in Berlin. This meant that the classes were really huge - about 25 students - and full of people from literally all over the world. From Russia, Turkey, the Philippines, Iraq, Brazil, Malaysia, Bosnia, Iceland, and so on. I think I was one of the only Americans, but it was good because I was forced to speak German with the other students even in the breaks.

4. If you are not a native speaker, do you have any funny stories about language errors?

I learned German such a long time ago, so I can't remember any really funny stories about specific errors at the moment... But what was difficult for me (and sometimes still is) - was getting used to the extreme German directness. I remember being at a dinner party and one woman said very loudly proclaimed in German, "Well I don't like Americans because they are always fake and you never know what they think about you." This woman knew that I was an American and her comment was somewhat directed at me, but I was so flabbergasted that I had no idea even how to respond, especially in German!

I'm from Tennessee, and with my Southern upbringing, I was completely unprepared for situations like this. In the meantime, I have learned how to be more direct - and to take things people say about the US or American culture less personally. Sometimes I agree with them too! My German is fluent these days, so I can get involved in a discussion, rather than just helplessly sitting there not knowing what to say.

5. Tell me about one of your lowest moments?

When we made the first move from Berlin to Heidelberg, I didn't have any friends, it was the coldest winter in years, and I had to wait a couple of months before any language classes were starting. I spent some hard weeks there when I wondered what on earth I was doing. We still had very little money, no real furniture in the apartment... just an old black and white TV that played German movies in the afternoon. It was kind of depressing. But finally spring arrived, and I enrolled at the University in Heidelberg to take more German classes, I met lots of fellow international students, and life improved dramatically.

6. When did you realize where you are home? Or are you not there yet?

I think being an ex-pat you are always somewhere in between. I still identify myself as an American because I grew up in the American culture for the first 25 years of my life. The way I talk, the way I think is still very American. However, I do like having the perspective of viewing my home culture from abroad. It puts many things in perspective. And the longer I am here, I feel more "Europeanized"  at least partly. In 10 years, I will have lived for equal amounts of time in both cultures. We'll see how I feel then!

In the end, it feels to me like things are becoming more and more global and international. I see and hear many, many Americans in Europe, and so many Europeans have visited the States. International travel has become very commonplace, and now with the speed of the Internet and other media to communicate - I feel like we are all very connected these days, more than ever before.

7. What do you miss most about the United States?

Cranberry juice! Well, actually you can get that here now, but it is expensive. I miss going out for huge, decadent American breakfasts at diners for an occasional indulgence. I miss the relaxed way that people communicate and make small talk in an easy manner, even in shops and with strangers. And of course I miss family and friends.

I love New York, San Francisco, the beautiful national parks, and there are still so many gorgeous places I've never visited in the States. I'd love to travel with my husband and kids through the US on a monumental road trip.
 
8. What are some of the things you don't know how you lived without before you moved to Germany?

I truly love being able to walk everywhere to do my shopping, to bring my kids to school, and so on. The bread and pastries here are amazing (although I know we're all supposed to be eating healthy, low carb, and gluten-free these days...)

9. Are you raising your kids bilingual? How's that going?

Yes, I speak English to my kids - but they usually answer me in German. We try to read lots of English books and have English videos, but it is difficult to offset the German kindergarten and German-speaking environment. So we are working on it, and I hope as they get older, they will understand and value the importance of English. I also hope that they will go on a school or university exchange in an English speaking country one day.

10. Are you still "the American" or do you blend in at this point?

I will probably always be "the American" among my German friends, but I also feel that I blend in pretty well too. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, so maybe I am just used to always making new friends and being a little bit of an outsider. I think it also helps that I have always lived in larger, multi-cultural cities in Germany where most people come from somewhere else too.

11. Can you reflect on any cultural differences that was challenging to navigate or led to a funny situation or misunderstanding?

One thing that drives me crazy in Germany is that you usually have to install your own kitchen and light fixtures when you move into a new apartment. The Germans defend this practice as "everyone has their own taste" and you can be much more individual in your apartment style this way... which is perhaps true, but it is kind of a pain, especially right at the beginning when you are just moving into a new place.

12. How has your experience colored your work?

My travels - especially my travel project this year 12 Countries in 12 Months  - are most certainly a big influence on my artwork right now. All of my latest collages are a result of this project, and I have lots of ideas for new collages based on materials and sketches I've gathered so far. I can't wait to get started on these new mixed media collages too.

13. What lessons can you draw from the whole experience?

Adventure is good, mind-expanding, and if you ever have the chance to live abroad for a time, you should go for it! Despite the challenges and a few hard times at the beginning, I wouldn't change a thing and I definitely do not regret my decision to move to Germany. At the moment, I'm happy in Europe and I appreciate all of the different cultures and travel opportunities here!

*********

Thank you Stephanie! Make sure you spend some time on her blog and ETSY site. And for the love of strudel treat yourself to her seven week e-course Creative Courage.

Strangers in a Strange Land

Well a friend of mine (I'm not naming names but he's a charming Scotsman) said some of my earlier Welcome to Israel posts were a wee bit melancholic. Moi? He's probably right although a little slack from the readers! This move was major upheaval wrapped in crazy and piled high with distress. And we didn't move to New Zealand, you know. Where all you have to contend with is sheep in the road (although from the looks of this picture taken about half a mile from my house it would seem we are contending with goats on top of everything else). This is Israel after all. Maybe you've heard we're experiencing some wee conflicts.

So while I'm working on adjusting my perspective, which feels like an everyday exercise, I thought it would be fun to reach out to other transplants and get their stories of transition for a weekly blog series.

We'll get started tomorrow with the talented and delightful Stephanie Levy - an American artist living in Munich. Hope you'll join us.

Wiser for the journey

Seven years ago I tried my hand at the National Stationery Show in New York. I had never been and I was five months pregnant and I had decided I would just wing it with my own line of cards. I did very little research, spent a few thousand dollars on the booth and a curtain and renting a table, plane tickets for my Mr. Rosen and my mom and I, and off we went flying by the seat of our pants. And I remember one night before going to bed saying to Mr. Rosen, what if I don't bring enough brochures or what if I can't fulfill all of my (zillions of) orders. Brother. 

We got there and I felt completely overwhelmed. People had shipped or ordered whole store fronts. Everything in my booth we packed in our suitcases. I remember renting a car and driving to the IKEA first out in Jersey and then on Long Island looking for stuff to make our booth a little more substantial. We only had a day. We stayed with friends in Soho and used some of their furniture. And friends in New York stopped by the booth. It was cute in the end. But I remember feeling mostly dejected by the whole thing. Everyone had the same kind of stationery - little icons of purses and heels in pinks and greens, all preppy throw-back. Some of it was exquisite - the Hello! Lucky stuff and other letter press creations. But that cutesy stuff was selling well. Hardly anyone stopped in my booth. I had to kind of lure them in and puff out my belly so they'd think I was kind of cutesy. In the end it wasn't a complete bust. I got five contracts and one was even from Whole Foods in NYC. But still, altogether they maybe amounted to about $1000. Not exactly what I was expecting.

I sold that collection (it was the inner toddler stuff) for another few years, here and there. Some on ETSY and some to shops. When I was on maternity leave with number two I had renewed energy and actually reached out to some blogs. I even got some coverage on Cool Mom Picks and Design Mom. It was fun. But the sales weren't exactly pouring in. So I stopped. I mean, I was also working full time and raising these two kids. It was more than I could manage.

And then after taking some time off I got a second wind. Started my blog. Started reading other blogs. Got inspired by what some other self-taught artists were doing and started painting again. Different stuff. Started developing my own style. Started getting into ketubahs and Judaica and sort of found a little niche for myself. And here we are. Seven years later.

Two weeks ago one of my images debuted at the National Stationery Show with a company called Calypso. Not a whole collection, mind you. Just the one. But I didn't have to fly my pregnant self there and spend a week and a small fortune getting it seen. I just got an email one day in March that said they wanted to use an image. We agreed on licensing terms. And here we are. Ironically it's a "congratulations on your move" card. I have a stack of them at home now so when someone does decide to buy our house, I am well equipped to congratulate them.

Funny how sometimes the choices we make lead us back to the start - wiser for the journey.

Art therapy

Yesterday morning my daughter came into the office while I was trying to squeeze in some work time before getting the kids off to school and she asked if I always knew how to draw. And I told her that I always liked to draw and I did it a lot when I was a kid. And she got big tears in her eyes and said, but I can't do it like you. My drawings aren't pretty. 

And the truth is they're not. Neither of my kids are prodigies, let's just say. Both of them mostly scribble. And I vacillate between being fine with that and being disappointed. How awful, right? But true. For a while my son talked all the time about how he wanted to be an artist. But he almost never decides to just get some markers and draw. He'll get them and write a letter about something or write his name with ten exclamation points. But drawing doesn't come to mind when he's bored at home. He'd rather write memos in his organizer. I'm not kidding. And when we sit down together to draw in the afternoon most often both kids want me to draw something for them or want me to decide what they should draw. Aren't kids supposed to be naturally free and expressive in their visual creativity? The whole exercise makes me irritated. Mostly because I know it's my own fault. I'm probably what's stifling them. I stifle myself sometimes too. The truth is I'm not great at drawing. It's hard for me to just draw a chair or a person or a piece of fruit. Which is why I don't draw those things. Play to your strengths, I say, which for me is color.

So when my little girl came to me distressed about her own abilities all I could think was that I wished I had something I'd drawn as a kid. A few paintings from kindergarten to show my kids that this is how it starts. A scribble. A stick figure. No aspect. No proportion. Just color and love. And outside the lines. Maybe we should go see a Jackson Pollack or Mark Rothko exhibit so they can see that even famous artists scribble and make a big mess.

That afternoon I decided to try something new. While my daughter was napping, my son and I tried some still life drawing and we both drew southpaw. Except he really is left-handed and I'm not. So it gave me an exercise in letting go a little which gave my drawings a kid-like quality. He liked them and liked how his pictures turned out too.  It was positive all around. Then he asked if I wanted his drawings and I said absolutely yes. That's when he showed his true talent. He turned on all the charm and replied they cost $2 each. I might hire him to be my agent.

Finnished

Bridge Ketubah

It's not a title typo. I actually completed a ketubah a few weeks ago that was half in the traditional Aramaic and half in Finnish! Soon after I did a name print for someone in Hebrew, English and SANSKRIT which required an act of God, Vishnu and Buddha to get the font to work on my Mac.  And my most recent multi-cultural expression was this Turkish/American ketubah, complete with a New York skyline, the wooden fence along the Jersey shore, Libra scales, the bridge over the Bosphorus or the San Francisco Bay or the East River (take your pick), the Sultan's signature, the Turkish flag, three evil eyes, an Istanbul skyline and a plethora of pomegranates (the name, in Turkish, of the groom's ancestral home). They've actually asked to change the sky to more of a periwinkle, which, thanks to the Photoshop magic wand, I can probably do. And then I'll finally be finnished too and ready to welcome a baby into this vibrant, connected world we've created.

Underwater

It's a race now to finish up on these last orders and commissions before I can breathe a little easier and relax a little until junior arrives. I'm almost done with a commission from the Lucile Packard Children's Hospital at Stanford. They had purchased twelve of my animal prints a while back which now hang in the Bass Center for Childhood Cancers and Blood Diseases. And about a month ago they called again to commission fifteen sea creatures for their pediatric surgery waiting room. FIFTEEN NEW ANIMALS. So you can image I've been feeling a little underwater, but nothing like the home stretch of pregnancy to light a fire under your tush (that might also be the hemorrhoids burning). So I cranked these little guys out over the weekend and now I'm in the process of preparing them for print.

Two commissions down and one to go. The third is an original ketubah design for an American bride and a Turkish groom. Lots of interesting symbolism. We even incorporated the Sultan's signature! That's a first.

From my tabernacle to yours

In the middle of all of our house and life chaos I was asked to create the artwork for the To Life Festival. The one I participated in for the first time last October. The one where my husband built a TABERNACLE in the middle of California Avenue in Palo Alto. That one. They had seen this piece in process (the second one) on the blog and wanted something similar that REEKED of Jewish life, music, culture and celebration. They didn't specifically say they wanted a ram at the top of the tree, but what's a Jewish celebration without a sacrificial ram? Am I right?

Admittedly, there's a lot going on here. Maybe too much. Perhaps a reflection of my own current state. Hopefully they will love it and it will draw people from all over the world to Palo Alto on September 18, 2011 to eat falafel, hear klezmer music and buy Jewish art. And now that we're staying in town a while longer, they can even buy my Jewish art. Straight from my tabernacle.

Giveaway

Just a quick note to let you know that Liv over at Choosing Beauty is hosting a giveaway - up to $40 for the print of your choice from my ETSY shop. You have to leave a comment with the name of your favorite print (and there are ways to be entered more than once to increase your odds). The giveaway ends tonight. Go comment! I once commented and won two beautiful prints by this lovely artist and friend.

Also, Liv has launched a terrific website called Feel Good Deal of the Day with all kinds of great deals on stuff you love anyway. I just got 40% off my order from Esprit.com and one of the things I ordered is stretchy enough to fit me even now! That's some stretchy-ass material!

What else? My pal Aimee is teaching in what looks to be a fantastic e-course where 21 artists share their techniques. You listen and learn at your own pace and it runs from April through August so you have plenty of time to soak it all up.

A few months ago my mom unearthed a series of emails I had sent ten years ago while Mr. Rosen and I were traveling the world. I think I will post a few in a "Ten Years Ago Today" series. Can you remember what you were doing ten years ago? I hardly remember what I did yesterday. Thank goodness for the digital paper trail.

And last, thanks to everyone for your support as we navigate this period of mondo-transition. It is enormously comforting to hear your stories too.

Bad Dreams

This is my psyche self-portrait. Because based on the dreams I've been having lately, I am loony tunes. On the outside I am trying to hold together a crazy amount of stress and chaos, despite my Martha Stewart home interior. This past weekend was our first open house and while we had plenty of traffic and a few folks who showed up multiple times, we don't have any offers yet. Mind you, we've been on the market for four days so my discouragement is very premature. And our awesome super agent is not concerned at all. Nonetheless my anxiety about the sale of our house and my ability to keep it immaculate and show it with an hour's notice, is clearly starting to have an effect on the ole subconscious.

Two nights ago I dreamed that someone broke into our house. A large man with unusually short arms. More like flippers actually. Mr. Rosen beat the crap out of him with a filled water bottle. But we were still devastated by the damage this might cause to our property value.

And last night, I was meant to perform in front of a giant audience. Sing, to be precise. Something I have actually done before, though not for quite a while. There was a particular theme to the performance which I can't recall right now but I wasn't to go on until maybe fourth or fifth and everyone before me was Broadway quality theatricality with costumes, make-up and a chorus of back-up talent. It was so obvious I was the impostor. And I hadn't even decided on the song, though I was pretty sure it would be the Bonnie Raitt song I Can't Make You Love Me, except I couldn't remember the second half of the chorus.

Turn down the lights.
Turn down the bed.
Turn down these voices,
Inside my head. 

That's about right. 
I need a drink, and the pregnancy tea is not doing it for me.

East of Eden

East of Eden

This was another one of the paintings from the retreat that started out as a giant mess of finger painting. What amazed me about the process was how much symbolism emerged for me without my realizing. I draw a lot of swirly things in my regular work, that are kind of a cross between leaves and eyes, like in this one and this one. And because this was the first day, I went to my comfort zone and started making more of the same on top of the background. But they took on the shape of a giant cactus - all spiky and poky and menacing. And standing in the shadow of this beast of a plant are five tulips. Interesting. A flower that can be uprooted and stored in the off-season and then replanted elsewhere, weather permitting. And a compass pointing east made its appearance on the last day of class. I only put everything together in my head once it was down on the paper.

One other thing to note about the class is that I think I may have figured out what to do with the many blank journals I have purchased and never used over the years. My friend Aimee over at Artsyville and I have often discussed how blank journals terrify us. She's found a cool way to get beyond the fear and expectation of those white pages. For me, I might try using them to wipe my hands when they're too full of paint. Then at least the white will be less intimidating. And I'll have a surface for experimenting with faces and shapes. We did a lot of that in class - wrong-handed, blind, fist-gripped painting and drawing. I found that the less I tried, the freer I got, the more I liked the outcome. Imagine that.

Night Owls

Night Owls, acrylic and pastel on wood panel

I painted this the morning after I'd taken my daughter to the ER when her fever hit 105. They checked her out and, besides the fever, there appeared to be nothing wrong. The ibuprofen hadn't worked earlier so they gave her Tylenol which brought the fever down to 99 and they discharged us. The next morning she was weak but her fever was still down. I went back for the last day of my art workshop and this image of a mama owl and her baby emerged. I checked in with Mr. Rosen every few hours the rest of the day and her fever continued to rise, though never passing 103. Then she started complaining of chest pain. When I got home she looked gray. Her breathing was super rapid and very shallow. But of course by now we were nearing night, when all things medical become extra scary because nothing is open and no one is available. She and I were up much of that night too. She came into our room around 3am asking for medicine so I knew it was bad. She has never willingly taken medication. She finally fell asleep on the floor by our bed with her panting breath and I was basically on watch the rest of the night.

I took her to urgent care the next morning and her xray confirmed what I had suspected. Pneumonia. She got a shot of antibiotics in the tush, affirming her disdain for medication, and we met my husband and son at a motel near our house because the painters had already arrived. Our plan had been to drive down on Monday to be at my mom's for the week while our house was painted in preparation for sale. But not with this sick baby owl. So we set up shop at the Tropicana Lodge and spent the day in and out of sleep while Mr. Rosen and junior continued moving our stuff into storage. Another restless night.

Finally Tuesday morning we saw her pediatrician. The antibiotics were working. She was getting her coloring back and had an appetite. I filled the rest of the prescription (I will spare you the story of how she then refused to take her oral medication saying she'd rather have another shot in her ass followed by the hour and half negotiation that ensued when I said, among many other equally ridiculous things, that she should be grateful her medicine tastes like strawberries because when I was a girl the medicine tasted like gasoline.) By noon we were medicated and on our way to Grandma's. 

She's getting better everyday and I'm happy for an excuse besides my laziness to not take them to Disneyland. Thanks everyone for your well wishes. xo