For the past few months we’ve been staring a lot at Albert Bierstadt’s painting, Valley of the Yosemite, the painting we chose to show on our picture frame television. The other night, my husband and I started to talk about the painting, and it got me going onto Google to find out more information.
Bierstadt first visited Yosemite in 1863 and as a result painted Valley of the Yosemite, an oil on paperboard artwork based on sketches. His work is considered part of the luminism school, in which paintings are painted in a romantic, almost glowing light. This glow is what draws me to Bierstadt’s work as well as the broad lens through which he views his subject matter. The towering rock walls that dwarf the trees and wildlife draw the eye further into the painting. Because this specific painting was done on paperboard, many experts believe this was a sketch for another larger painting, Looking Down Yosemite Valley, California, however, nearly a century after Bierstadt painted the smaller Valley of the Yosemite, a collector, A. F. Mondschein, acquired the painting, a surprising move in the 1940s, since Mondschein primarily dealt with Old Masters paintings. The painting was later acquired by Maxim Karolik, and then was donated to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston on June 12, 1947.
While Bierstadt’s luminism style fell out of favor in the late 1800s, it was his vision to draw the west as it was. Bierstadt is known for including Indigenous people in his paintings, which also drew the ire of his customer base, and he subsequently stopped at their request, which is an outright shame. The rhetoric at the time resulted in continued oppression of Indigenous peoples and fulminated the idea that the western lands of the United States were empty, unused, and available for consumption.
I can appreciate Bierstadt’s vision now, and be severely disappointed in him for catering to the market. I must, however, consider how the falsified idea of an “empty” West destroyed entire cultures, murdered and abused multiple populations of Indigenous groups, and led so many of us (yes, it’s me) who are descended from “pioneers” to ignore and whitewash this sordid part of our history. Reminder: Art is powerful and can influence people to empathize, to understand, and to use their imaginations, for better or for worse. I think we can do better.
Just this week, the Seattle FIFA organization partnered with the Puyallup Tribe, in the first-ever international host city cultural sponsorship of the World Cup 2026. This excites me greatly. I am honored and blessed to see Puyallup tribal members dedicate soccer fields and announce partnerships, but this one felt big. I myself live on unceded Duwamish land, and it is only right that all are included in any events held in our community, which will flow monetary profits to the rightful owners of the land from these massive sporting events.
I’ve been working my way through an educational textbook on voice by Dona J. Hickey, now long out-of-print published back in 1993 by Mayfield Publishing Company. I found it used from someplace and am going through the book again for the second time. It’s fascinating stuff.
It focuses mostly on speech melodies, rhetorical usage, low to middle to high range of voice, and makes you practice a lot. It’s the sort of book I imagine the communications team, aka Toby and Sam, on The West Wing aced the first time around.
Training your inner ear to hear what you’re reading is a skill. I can do this when I’m reading other people’s work, for the most part. But my inner ear plays a dual role sometimes. As a copyeditor or proofreader for educational material, my inner ear is looking for error. Sometimes, when trying to read a book, I simply can’t keep going. I’m mentally correcting errors that aren’t mine to fix. I’ve unlearned much of this after yelping loudly from the passenger seat when passing billboards and road signs with the most egregious errors. Let’s just say whoever is driving is not amused by my outbursts.
So training my inner ear on my own writing is taking a bit of time. Thanks to a fellow writer’s advice, I’ve started asking my devices to read my own writing to me or I record myself reading. This seems to activate another part of my brain that helps me “hear” better. I mean, when I’m proofreading and need clarity on how a sentence sounds, I often read it out loud to make sure it works.
How do you work on your writing voice? How do you train your inner ear?
I just finished watching the new season of Project Runway All-Stars but am also rewatching certain old seasons. Also, what was with Christian Siriano’s hair back in the day? I adore him, but goodness.
As for the latest season, I was really bummed when Korto and Rami got eliminated. Those were hard weeks for me. I just loved Korto’s skill with fabric and her vision is wonderful. I wanted her in that finale. Rami is talented, even if his stuff is sometimes over the top and I really wish he had made it to the finale. Don’t get me wrong. I love Bishme (that depression dress as his final look won it, hands down) and Laurence, but I struggled so much with Brittany’s same, same, same looks. Or maybe I’m tired of norm-core and am ready for looks that make you go “whoa” and stop in your tracks.
I also worried about Laurence’s full-body leather looks. Soft, thinner leather is not as stiff and might stretch out more easily and not wear for long. One thing we have to think about in fashion is sustainability—wearing a garment as many times as possible before recycle, reusing, or refashioning.
Which brings me back to my own fabric purchases. I have issued a moratorium to myself on buying fabric. I have a cabinet filled to the brim with sustainable fabrics, but the question I keep asking myself is, how much more do I actually need?
I have unsubscribed from fabric supplier emails so as not to tempt myself, and this includes my beloved Mood in NYC. I’ve decided to sew what I have already purchased or at least make a dent in sewing what I have before I buy anything else. A tall order. I love fabric. I love draping it on my full-size and half-size mannequin. Mood was my favorite place because I got lost in there for hours and was loathe to leave when my time was up.
I got an opportunity to visit some fabric warehouses in 2024 and I’m going to decline and ask to go again in 2025. I just know that I will succumb and buy more and I really need to think about how much fabric I can utilize. Case in point: I work from my home office. I don’t entertain, nor do I need to dress up other than one or two times a year. And as a result of Covid, I’ve simplified my wardrobe to jeans, a tank top, Birkenstocks, or Doc Martens, and a cardigan or pullover sweater plus a coat in the winter.
Maybe I’m getting close to minimalism in my closet? I’ve never been a minimalist, but something is definitely shifting. Thus, not buying fabric for a while feels right. I have plenty if I ever need to feel like I’m in a fabric store. I can shop my fabric cabinet! And now I need to just stop going by Joann’s on my way to the post office and I think I’ve got it covered.
The art of observing after this season of Project Runway.
I am writing an essay about art, and it is sorta kicking my butt. I have plenty to write about and yet am supposed to fit it into just 1,000 words.
I know I’m long-winded, but when I start talking about art, I’m not sure 1,000 words is enough.
I’ll overflow what I know I can’t fit into my essay here for you fine readers. You’ve been warned.
Marimekko
Back in 1964, Marimekko did not receive the love we all feel for it now in 2023. Finnish residents scoffed at the designs, even going so far as to walk into the Marimekko store and spit at the clothes. Another Finnish resident besieged Marimekko by phone going on and on about “how Marimekko hats were spoiling the look of the Helsinki streets.”
This seems very much an overreaction from where I sit currently after I finally set foot in my first Marimekko store (in New York, across from the Flatiron) and bought my first Marimekko scarf. I swooned over all of the clothes, the fabrics, the housewares, and also bought an umbrella in my favorite Unikko print.
Since we’re now more than 70 years since Marimekko showed their first pieces to the public, during which we’ve seen Marimekko collaborations with Uniqlo, Adidas, Ikea, West Elm, and others, I think Helsinki must have grown to accept the hats, don’t you?
Sonia Delauney
Sonia Delauney may be most famous for co-founding Orphism, a movement perceived as key in the transition from Cubism to abstract art. Orphism or Orphic Cubism was named by the French poet Guillaume Apollinaire in 1912. In 1913, Sonia illustrated friend and neighbor, Blaise Cendrars’, poem La Prose du Transsibérien et de la petite Jehanne de France and it was published to wide acclaim throughout France. It is an accordion-style book, folded over and over and over, and when removed from its binding and pulled to its height, is as tall as a door. You can see a picture of it here or in person at the New York Public Library, MoMA, the Getty, Tate Modern, and the V&A. Next time I’m in New York, I’m going to see it (if I can make that happen).
Sonia lived to be 94 and in 1970, was photographed with a collection of her colorful abstract art. Much of what you or I remember from the 1960s and 1970s is the result of her creating it decades before. Paul Klee was so inspired by her use of rectangular boxes in her art that he incorporated the same shape into his own pieces during his mystical-abstract period (1914-1919).
Vera Neumann
War shortages of linen forced Vera to use silk in the 1940s, just as she and her business partner and husband, George, were selling their first products to department stores. Overstocks of silk (mostly used for military parachutes) were cheap and plentiful. Vera and George immediately transferred Vera’s patterns onto the silk (including her signature, which is on every Vera scarf) and earned instant popularity. Vera’s designs were everywhere, even in the Truman White House, which used Vera’s design on Schumaker fabric to decorate the third floor solarium window treatments and upholstery.
Later we saw Jackie Kennedy sporting Vera scarves, as Vera’s designs hit their stride in the 1960s. A resurgence of Vera designs found their way into Crate & Barrel and Target in 2012 and 2013, but I didn’t discover Vera until a trip to the Museum of Arts and Design in 2019 where the exhibit “Vera Paints a Scarf” took hold of me. I’ve become a bit obsessed, tracking down a large square abstract Vera silk scarf on Etsy that I had framed.
Confession: I still believe I can multi-task when countless experts have said it’s terrible for output. (Cal Newport’s DEEP WORK moved me to disavow some of my more insidious multi-tasking behaviors.) But I’ve always done things my own way and am loathe to change habits that make me happy, as multi-tasking and distracting as they are.
So, I’m finishing the first draft of a YA auto-fiction (four scenes to go!) and preparing for the revision, am starting to gain momentum on the super sekret YA project I started drafting by accident last winter (LOL), and then, of course, I woke up one day last week with a fully formed new idea that is threatening to take over everything. Isn’t that how it always goes.
Project A is the hardest one (being wrought from my past and things I’ve repressed or tried to forget).
Project B is loose and fast and just springs up in the moment and I write it in quick bursts of inspiration.
Project C has got a voice and an intent and is shocking me a bit because it’s not like anything I’ve ever written before.
All of these ideas have been cooking away in my skull until I was ready to write. I’ve had a couple of traumatic events stop me from any creative efforts in the past decade. If you asked me 10 years ago to write a YA novel, I would have wished I could and would have tried so hard, but would have not been able to. I’m so aware of how much more creative power I have this year. It feels so good. It shows me I’m doing better this year than I was doing a decade ago. I’ve continued showing up (even when I don’t feel like it’s doing anything) for a slow and steady (albeit long) recovery process. I felt so frustrated for so many years that I couldn’t just do what I watched others do. I wrote countless partial drafts and then gave up. I filled up massive Scrivener files, forgot to back them up, and lost them to old laptops. I know, I know. But I don’t give up easily, so whatever I’ve lost, I know I will get back in a good way.
My one multi-tasking habit that I simply can’t give up is having more than one writing project going. I just can’t quit this. James Cameron did this while writing The Abyss, Titanic, and Avatar. The key is a designated place to store the material for each project. For me, three Scrivener files (backed up to the cloud this time), plus a half a dozen yellow legal pads, and my trusty Alphasmart Neo, which is perfect for a multi-tasker like me, because it can store materials for up to eight projects. Whenever I need to pull the words from it, I plug it into my Mac and download everything quickly. It’s portable, camping-proof, and can replace the yellow legal pad scribbling in a pinch when the story rushes out too fast for my handwriting to keep up.
I always start with Project A (as I said, it’s the hardest) because I just need to get the story out on the page. I write the hardest scenes I’ve ever written and then remember that I’ll experience a therapeutic flashback (I will always have emotional flashbacks while writing auto-fiction, but if I know what I’m going to get and I remember it is supposed to be cathartic, I can anticipate the flashback, work through it, and then continue on my recovery. See, I’ve learned a ton in the past decade about how this might work). Plus, I can’t write stories unless they have that very personal connection that I can make art from (turning my heartbreak and trauma into something beautiful).
Project B and C are interchangeable now. When I get an idea for one of them, I go and work on it a bit. At least 500 words a day on each (usually done before work while walking on my treadmill or after work, while hanging out with my family).
It’s working for me again in 2023. I’m making big leaps of progress versus teeny motions of the past decade. How’s your writing going?
This week a decade ago, I adopted Rue, my husky-shepherd-malamute fluffer doggo.
It’s mostly because of my mentor, Erin Murphy, but also very much my mother-in-law’s fault.
And it’s a wonderful origin story.
Throughout the years we’ve worked together, Erin showed me pictures of her dogs, who are adorable and I also got a bit of pressure from my husband (another dog lover). I was very determined to stay a cat person, even though I didn’t want to have cats either. I was happily pet-free, with an immaculate yard and house (LOL). I also had a husband deathly allergic to animal fur and dust. It was decided. We would be fine without pets.
Backing up a bit, I always had cats as a child. My siblings and I raised Butterscotch and Dusty Rose from kittens. And then Dusty Rose decided she was a barn cat and abandoned me. I then lived for a year away from home and came home to my youngest sister, Lindsay’s dog, Moses or Mosey, who was slightly terrifying, but had a good soul. Mosey was a Malamute shepherd mix. He was a big dog, all white, tons of fur, just a friendly, happy guy.
Every day, he wandered up the long uphill gravel driveway walking behind me while I fetched the mail and he patrolled the orchard (we lived up in the wooded hills overlooking the Willamette Valley in Oregon). He did not set a toenail over the property line nor did he attempt to walk on Mom’s deck (he was not allowed on the deck) or in the carport (he was not allowed in the carport or the house). He was a very good dog, unless he decided to chase porcupines (another story for another day). He lived in a comfy dog house in the wood shed and patrolled the property faithfully.
He also was a medical alert dog for my sister who often spent entire days in the barn down the hill with her rabbits. She could not spike a fever and Mosey knew to run up the hill and get us if she ever did. Thank goodness, she did not. But we all grew to love Mosey.
And then I moved out and got married and left Oregon behind and having a pet was just not something I was interested in.
Fast forward to 2013. I had been regularly shown adorable pics of dogs by Erin and then my mother in law came to visit, and for funsies, she suggested we go look at animal shelters at dogs.
So I said, I want a dog like Mosey was, Malamute, Husky, shepherd. I figured there would NEVER be a dog like Mosey in any shelter.
Never say never.
Day One: We first found a one-year-old husky, with one bright blue eye. But we were too late and he got adopted. Not before my mother-in-law and husband dragged me to a pet supply store and helped me buy stuff for a dog I didn’t even know I was going to adopt. It was getting serious now.
My mother-in-law lives in Florida and loves animals of all kinds. LOVES them. So she was plotting with my husband and I know that if she could have, she would have adopted a few dogs and hauled them back home too. But although the plot feels nefarious, now, I’m so glad for it. I needed the two of them to push me a bit.
Day Two: We saw that the Seattle Humane Society had Husky puppies, so we headed there. The staff didn’t like the idea of me adopting a Husky puppy for some reason (Humane Society staff may have been able to tell I was being pushed into adopting a Husky, and so they decided to try and distract me with a year old dog that was “less active” and not so “puppy”).
They ushered us into a greeting area with a black lab that ended up having explosive diarrhea. We skedaddled out of there and asked again to see the Husky puppies. Alas, we could not. Since we had been in contact with the black lab, it was not safe for us to see any other dogs. I expressed my dismay at being denied the chance to see the puppies, since I had not asked to see the black lab. So they gave me a voucher, walked me to the Husky puppy pen and through a glass door, told me to pick one of the puppies.
I knew immediately which one I wanted. Rue, all gray and so fluffy (then named Heidi) was flopped on her belly, looking bored while her pack of brothers, all black and sleeker, galloped all around her and one of them even stood on her head. She didn’t even react, just continued to look bored.
“That’s the one.” I said. So I went home with a 24-hour hold on a Husky puppy. They said I could come back tomorrow and I would get first dibs.
I went home deflated. Did I want a puppy that I didn’t get to even meet? My husband and mother-in-law assured me that I would get to meet her, but my mother-in-law was on a plane the next morning and my husband was back to work, so after all of that, I had to go and pick up my puppy on my own.
Day Three: We bought special doggie treats and my mother-in-law flew back to Florida. I drove back to the Humane Society and was astonished to find a long line waiting outside the door. The volunteer told me “They are here for the last Husky puppy.” And then I showed her my piece of paper. “Oh,” she said, “they are waiting to see if you take her or not.”
I finally end up in a greeting area with Heidi/Rue. This puppy had a mind of her own. She wanted nothing to do with me. Wouldn’t let me even pet her or pick her up. She kept wandering toward my purse (where I had put the treats) like a land shark, watching me, watching my purse, or mostly staring off into space, as if I was so boring. I called my husband in a panic. “She doesn’t even like me!” I wailed.
He told me to be patient. “Let her come to you.” I waited an entire hour in vain. Heidi/Rue was just not interested. But I had to decide. If I left her there, she would be adopted by someone else. This was my one chance.
I went toward her to pick her up. This startled her and she peed, but let me pick her up. I think we were both so nervous and she could tell I just wasn’t sure. Smart girl.
They took her away from me to do her exit check-up. I remember staring at her paperwork, wondering if I was doing the right thing. She was so little. She was eight weeks old, 13 pounds, and would need to be trained. But I signed the paperwork, picked out a pink leash and collar, paid the money, and sat back down in a chair to wait. The line out the door disappeared after they found out I adopted the last puppy.
I felt like I had made a huge mistake. I stood up and looked longingly into the cat room. LOL.
But then they handed her over in her pink collar, a squirming pile of fluff in a towel, and she licked my chin. The littlest little lick ever. And I knew I had made the right decision.
I tried to put her in a safe box on the floor of the passenger side of my car for the car ride, but she climbed up into my arms and slept on my lap as I drove home with the air conditioning blowing her fur (she still loves that).
She walked into her new backyard, plopped her belly into the grass, and promptly took a nap.
We’ve had each other for ten years.
It’s been wonderful. (Thanks, Erin, and Mom Lawrence.) Really.
Really enjoyed this article from 2021 about surface pattern designer Susie Zuzek, who designed all of the 1960s Lily Pulitzer clothing line. It left me inspired by Zuzek’s use of bright colors and bold patterns. Let’s go back to this sort of designing.
Bright patterns of color on clothing and housewares. These patterns made me swoon.
Back to work on process and project time this week!
I’m nearly halfway through the #100dayproject and so last week’s blog post became process time.
In 20203 I’m working hard to create three habits: 1) process time, 2) project time, and 3) self-care time. Getting each of these habits into place stresses me out some days. Of course it does, since I’m training my brain.
But last week, I had an epiphany.
Even if you include process time, project time, and self-care time, you will still get tired as a creative. Your brain goes a bit foggy and you start to look around a bit too much at other creatives and their work and you start to get a little bit judge-y about your own work and that starts to take its toll. This happened to me last week, even after having excellent conversations with my critique partners and my writing peeps, so I spent a lot of time on process (do it for the process!) just to regain my creative energy.
And it worked. Wow, did it work. There is now peace around the work, which always comes when you stop looking at other people’s progress and there is courage around the work now too. Call it self-determination or whatever.
As a recovering perfectionist, I forget that I will fall down, lose faith, and have to get back up again. But I’m not alone. This is the creative process.
Consider this a reminder for this week: do it for the process.
I haven’t been sewing much in March. I’ve been watching other people sew, reupholster, remodel, and restart projects.
I’ve also been solidifying a set of new habits around my health and so I’ve been busy. But I grabbed a pile of my favorite sewing pattern books over the weekend and just looked at the pretty pictures. I’m feeling the pull back into the sewing room.
But I’ve been thinking about habits and how much I’ve been influenced by this book, THE 12-WEEK YEAR. I read it for the first time late last year and while my first quarter sorta went off the rails, I’m back to plan my second quarter and the more you utilize time and task management planning tools (such as are in the 12-week year), the better you do each round.
First quarter, I got a ton done and set up some lifelong dream habits that I’ve been seeking for a while. I’m EXTREMELY proud of that. I didn’t get to so many other things because of how hard I worked to get these new plans to solidify. I’ve been going for nearly three months on the first of those habits and goals, and now a full five weeks on the second half of those habits and goals and I feel powerful! Ha.
It makes no sense for me to beat myself up about what I did not get done (this is the brilliance of the 12-week year; you just go back to your planning tools and try again). Each 12 weeks is a new year (instead of planning once a calendar year, you plan four times a calendar year). This allows for incremental fixes at multiple set times in a calendar year. This is EXTREMELY important. This comes from the evidence-based data about how salespeople can turn in massive numbers just before the end of their fiscal year, or college students cram to prep for finals week. When there is a pressure of time, humans pivot.
And working by quarters, I’m pivoting more easily. I’m not fast. I’m not perfect, but I’m focused. And I know that in just 12 weeks, I’ll have a chance to reconfigure my workflow, my goals, my tasks, to tweak anything that isn’t working to make sure it works better the next round.
It’s planning week over here for the second quarter! What are you planning?
The illustrious clothing and housewares company started 70 years ago in Finland has now become synonymous with supercool, retro, and spare style. Co-founder Armi Rata branded the company based on her personal and professional ethos: bohemia and culture.
I can’t get enough of Marimekko’s most famous poppy inspired Unikko print and have it on several items in my home. Here is the fabric available for purchase.
I have been thinking a lot lately about my core values, my personal code of ethics, and how all of it ties into my own self worth.
And then I found the core values Armi Rata termed the “Marimekko spirit” and was inspired.
Living, not pretending
Fairness to everyone and everything
Common sense
Getting things done—together
Courage, even at the risk of failure
Joy
If I were to ever create a brand/design company, I’d be incredibly proud of core values like this.
Here’s what Marimekko spirit means to me:
Rather than trying to get people to see you, just be you.
It’s not always about you.
Not everything will make sense.
Find the people who light you up.
Try, even when you fall or fail.
Laugh a lot.
The past three years for me have been brutal. (If you’re a fixed astrological sign, you and I are in the same horrible club.) But I’m still here. So are you. That’s not nothing.
2023 is going to be the start of something different. Making Marimekko’s prints part of my life and being inspired by them to make my own art has been so much fun. Now I’m grateful for Marimekko’s inspiration to create my own set of core values, ethics, and self worth I choose to live by.
This blog will be your front row seat to watch me do both.
