Birthday for a Thoughtful Rabbit!

Today is my birthday and while I was expecting a quiet day, I have been showered with attention and some really awesome presents! Thank you, everyone! I really appreciate it.

I did go to work today (and I can’t complain! People have been lovely. And the banana and blueberry muffins I baked were much appreciated), but I’ve decided to treat myself to a mental memory vacation for the day.

Got on your comfortable shoes? Camera? Your Jet Pack? Let’s go!

We wake up…

In Disneyland!! Not just regular Disneyland, but Disneyland Paris!

Don’t worry; we walked through a beautiful open air French market to get there, so you’ve got your croissant and café au lait. First we’ll enter this beautiful castle and climb our way down to the grotto beneath it. A fierce dragon lurks there who snorts smoke and flickering his scaly eyelids. But he never eats birthday people, so we should be safe. This time. We’ll make sure to ride the Haunted Mansion many times to figure out the creepy murderous Black Widow story line. After that, we’ll ride Peter Pan and Small World. When our feet start to hurt, we’ll curl up in Skull Rock, knowing that the American Parks no longer have that attraction.

That’s enough fresh air for a little while, how about some intellectual stimulation?

Off we go to London to the British Museum.

Of course, we’ll look at the Sutton Hoo treasure and the Teddy Bear collection, but the main stop is the Egyptian collection. Take a gander at these mummified cats! What did you think of the National Geographic reconstruction of Tutankhamen’s face? Hadn’t other reconstructions suggested that the ancient Egyptians had more African features? Wait! Is that a bunny on that mummy case?

I’m embarrassed to say, that strange sweet smell from the mummy room has made me hungry.

Time for Lunch… at Sola Strand Hotel in Norway!

I can’t eat the smoked salmon myself, but I’m sure you’ll like it. That there is fenalaar, which is preserved leg of lamb, very tasty. This is flatbrod, try putting some fenalaar on that with a little of the egg? Nice? I’m going to fill up on beef tenderloin and shrimp, but make sure to leave room for dessert. There are jellies and apple cake and caramel pudding. Make sure you get plenty of the mixed berries and cream. They grow them all locally. Whew. I am stuffed. I think I need a lay down, but where should we go?

What better place for a siesta than Spain?

This Moorish castle towers over Malaga, birthplace of Salvador Dali. The roomy accommodations here include plenty of benches, lots of shady vine covered verandas, and romantic nooks. What do you say we stretch out in the garden and enjoy the sunshine? Good thing we brought our Panama

I always feel like a little shopping after a nice lunch. Let’s head to Krakow!

This charming shopping street features Polish milled silk velvet scarves, paintings by students, beautiful silver work, blown glass Christmas ornaments, and most importantly amber. Find amber in shades you never imagined existed. Amber cut into cameos. Amber with insects. Who would guess fossilized tree sap would be so beautiful and such a pleasure to wear?

There is one odd thing about Krakow. See those cute young guys in black over there? Look, but don’t touch! They’re all priests.

Whew! It’s been a great trip, but I’m about ready to drop. I think it’s time to head home to my most favorite place of all.

Thanks for coming along!

Happy Annual Bunny Day to you!!

Eeek!! Oh...

Knut was going to take the dog out last night and what do you think was waiting for him?

This giant possum! It was crouched on the second landing of the back stairs. I can’t think what it was looking for since we don’t have garbage or anything out there. Possibly, it just smelled something interesting from the apartments. We did fry bacon last night.

Colin, of course, viewed this an a excellent opportuntity to play, but I wouldn’t back Colin in a fight against a baby chipmunk.

Possums are the only North American marsupial and while they’re totally harmless, they’re just not cute. I take that back. They aren't cute when they're fully grown. As babies they're sort of charming. Every once in a while you find one trapped in your garbage can. You can understand from the photos why no one wears possum fur. They’re distinctly patchy and scabby looking. We saw one at a my parents house a few summers ago that was lacking an eye. It was quite possibly the most malevolent looking creature I’ve ever seen in person. Makes you wonder what a possum and an aye-aye would think if they met eachother. “Ick,” probably. Possums have two defensive techniques: hiss while looking as gross as possible and playing dead. Usually the latter comes right after the former.

I wonder if this is actually our neighborhood possum. A little while ago Knut and I were discussing the way rats move while we were in the car. Rats have this peculiar skittering humped walk. It’s pretty well unmistakable. We turned the corner of our alley and saw a bag blowing across the cement of the alley. “Ha!” Knut laughed. “I thought that was a rat for a second.” The headlights illuminated the bag, which turned out to be an extra large possum.

It can’t be helped. Every time I see a possum crossing the street, I’m convince for a second it’s a Rodent of Unusual Size.

Knut ended up swatting it across the bottom with a broom to get it to go down the stairs. Its instinct is to the stay put, unlike a raccoon or squirrel which will run at any opportunity. I’m afraid it did take a little tumble down a few of the stairs but it was able to get up and run away as soon as it got into the darker parts of the lawn.

Colin attempted to pursue it, but we called off our fierce hunting spaniel. We have a lot of nature in our alley and I would never want to see the possum hurt. In fact, I look forward to seeing him again.

Art En Masse, Mass Art

I have mixed feelings about public art. No, I should be more specific. I enthusiastically endorse some public art and think others are lame.

These photos are ones Knut, Colin, and I took in the Skokie Sculpture Park. This park runs in between a busy street and a canal. I had driven past it hundreds of times, but never walked through it. Knut is partial to the gigantic head, purely because it reminds him of the film The Wicker Man. Note the similarly of poses between Knut and a famous still of Christopher Lee. I have no idea what it is Colin is posing on. It looks like a combination mining drill and underwater mine to me. I’m actually hiding behind it holding up Colin’s rear end. Most of the sculptures are fairly unremarkable, with a few real stand outs. Curiously, the majority are in shades of brown or olive. You’d think since these are seen mostly from the road, they’d prefer bright colors.

When a piece is perfect for a place, the people who live around it embrace it as a friend, and usually give it a nickname. It frequently takes only a short time for this to happen.

You can’t go past the Picasso in Daley Plaza in Chicago without seeing office workers eating their lunch on it or children sliding down the slanted base. Now there are plenty of benches around and kids can play on just about anything in my experience, but they are just drawn to the huge sculpture. Apparently, it was controversial when it was first put up which proves how many critics really don’t have much of a grip on public consciousness.

Similarly, The Bean was instantly embraced. It was only unveiled in 2004, but people love it. They make special trips to walk up to it, touch it, and generally experience it. Once when we were up admiring it, the men who clean it were working on a patch. They cheerfully advised us the best place to stand to see all of its reflective kaleidoscopic charms. There’s a pretty good contrast between The Bean and these huge glass block structure down the block that house animated screens of people’s faces. The faces have become part of the background, except in the hottest part of the summer when they spit water and the path between them is flooded. Then children and childish bloggers rip off their shoes and go for a refreshing skip through the puddles. You can tell The Bean is truly beloved because it has a nickname. It’s actually called “Cloud Gate.” When the artist initially complained about the nickname, I heard an artistic acquaintance say that everyone should have to call it the real name because it belongs to the artist. Possibly I’m of a more Andy Warhol frame of mind, but I feel that when a piece of art is public (indeed, we citizens of Chicago bought the thing and pay to maintain it), its identity becomes intertwined with the city. And if the city feels it should be called The Bean, the identity of the art becomes The Bean. Such a show of public affection is a high compliment.

Fortunately, the artist has learned to stop worrying and love The Bean.

This Must Be Underwater Color

I always loved art class in school. I loved clay, acrylics, pastels, colored pencils, figure drawing, etc, etc, and I was pretty good at most of them. But the most deceptively simple and difficult of all, I believe, is the watercolor.

You’d start out with the lightest possible pencil sketch and eventually end up with a muddy grayish page. “This doesn’t look like The Badlands!” you’d regally remark and toss your crumpled page in the bin.

In Norway, I began watching Cranshaw’s Watercolor Tours, which featured a gnomish English gentleman who toured Europe and the Middle East making enthusiastic comments about hookah smokers and occasionally stopping for a quick watercolor. I learned two things:

1. You need actual watercolor paper. It absorbs the color and holds it in place. I think my art teachers substituted drawing paper which quickly becomes a soggy wrinkled sheet. On the other hand, it’s probably much much cheaper for Middle School students who probably weren’t going to produce amazing works of art anyhow.
2. The pencil sketch underneath is vital. It’s how you produce shading. You can do some with the paint itself, but that pencil shading will give you darker, better shadows and forms. I was always instructed to use the paint for all the shading and the sketch was simply a guideline.
   

Now, like most rules, I feel certain gifted painters can totally disregard them, but one must crawl before one rockets a small dog into space.

I also learned some good tips on combining color and adding washes from Cranshaw. We started watching him because Knut would get so relaxed he’d fall asleep in seconds. He’s as good as a bedtime story, and I mean that as a compliment.

I haven’t done much painting since we moved back to the US (I am so tempted to make this Altoid box watercolor box so I can do guerrilla painting. Genius!), but I did enjoy it in Norway. This painting is of Colin on the shore of the North Sea. I gave it to my dad as a Christmas present. Here's the full version.

Birthday Ba!

Today is Colin’s birthday!

I can’t believe he’s already 4 years old. He still acts like a puppy in pretty much all respects. He still gets overstimulated whenever we go to my parents’ house. He still plays with toys. He’s still overcome with delight whenever we come home. He is the sweetest little doggie.
Both of the dogs we had growing up were rescued basset hounds, so we never knew when they were born. Colin was the very first puppy for me, so I suppose he’ll always be a little bit special.
His gifts include a nice walk (probably to the beach so we can play with the beloved pink ball) and one of these disgusting cakes we make him. This is the one from his first birthday. I believe it was two layers of toast, a peanut butter filling, and the whole thing was frosted with liver pate. His name was written with icing made from boullion and flour.
He loved it.
He kept an eye on us as he wolfed it down as quickly as possible. He isn’t usually territorial about food, so he clearly adored it.

Happy Birthday, Ba!

Everything I Know about Photography I Learned from my Dog

Meet my muse, Colin. He’s a 3 year old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. My husband and never took so many photos before we got this dog.

As soon as we were married, I moved to Norway and I desperately wanted a dog. Since we only have a one bedroom; a small dog. We read the want ads for a year. We called the local shelter. Everything. No doggy for us. All they ever had were German Shepherd mixes or border collies, neither of which would have been very happy in our tiny home. Not a tiny dog who needed a home in the whole county.

I got to the point where we’d go into a pet store and I’d feel the little collars. I can begin to understand women who are desperate to have children but can’t.

Eventually after a year, we decided to buy one. My parents gave me $200 for my birthday as a dog payment. Knut called various breeders and nothing seemed quite right until one evening when a woman called. She said she remembered talking to him several months earlier and her dog was due to have puppies. Did we want one? Yes! We could have the pick of the litter.

Lucy gave birth to an amazing nine puppies, all of whom survived. Lucy did have a major calcium defficiency from nursing all those babies. I suspect Colin as a major culprit since he was the biggest and fattest of all the babies.

Knut picked him out at 3 weeks when they were barely the size of large hamsters and we regularly visited him until 10 weeks, when we got to take him home. It was just great to see him grow up.

Colin has posed for more photos than anyone else I know. He’s the one who taught us directional lighting. He showed us how to take fast motion shots. He encouraged us to take films. I know hardly anything about photography that hasn’t involved him.