Easing in

I finished another sweep of the manuscript! Now, grappling with captions. But the other exciting project is working to bring Asao Shimura here in the fall, coming up with as many potential hosts as possible for workshop venues. I had a long talk with a printmaking professor today about papermaking in Korea, and it's kind of eye and heart opening to suddenly feel like I am in a position to help people the way that I needed just a few years ago. Though, of course, I'd still like to get paid for it. Someday! Building it into the dream life.

A turn

Today I think we all feel better, especially after some residents who were here last month organized a salon tonight so that we could share our work with each other. Many residencies have this function in place or tell residents to do it, but here I felt so floaty, like I was a guest in a hotel and had no idea what was going on anywhere or with anyone. Now I feel like we're on the same boat.

I was going to take a picture of this nest in the courtyard and then the one I made yesterday but the photos were blurry and there is a major studio access problem so I didn't have the energy to re-shoot. That will be for another day. I took two naps today and am still exhausted, but I hear it takes a long time to acclimate to this area so I am trying to be patient. Also, we all witnessed the moon tonight together!

The view on arrival

I got to Santa Fe yesterday afternoon and had one of the first less-positive experiences of my residency-hopping last six years. I think this probably means it's time to wind down these journeys and to start working on the dream of my own space, my own studio, someplace to hunker down and work. The cars, trains, planes, buses, coupled with shipping everything difficult, all of that has become more exhausting and less fruitful. I know also that this is yet another transition, and in a few weeks, I could be happy as a clam. But the road is close and there are the constant sounds of cars (this is a big downer). I don't yet have access to my studio so I don't know how bad the car sound will be there, but from my bedroom, it's that man-made ocean sound, only it's not the ocean at all.

I had an awful encounter in the Denver airport when I was setting my things down to eat lunch during my layover. I didn't even get to sit down before the guy in a cowboy hat and big white mustache pointed at me and said, "Philippines!" In my head, "Oh, NO." I just said, "No."

Then, "Vietnamese!"
"No. Oh my god." (internally, "omg, I can't believe this is happening. Again." Flashback to being in a cab in Chicago in 2005 and the driver spitting out names of lots of different countries in Asia, and then giving up and asking if I was Mexican. Somehow, him being a black man with an accent made it less bad since I could then ask him where he was from.)
"I used to be a pastor and I met people from all around the world and I like to know where they're from."
Silence.
White wife with white hair: "Well, where are you from?"
"I'm from New York."
"No, I mean, where are you FROM?" (husband does more exclaiming and waving his hands in the air)
SILENCE. Finish eating asap so I can leave and call fellow Asian American. She said I should have replaced the final silence with, "I'm sorry, I don't speak English."

Haha! That was something I always realized after it was too late (as in, after I had started talking) when dealing with racism, ignorance, and harassment from strangers. If I just kept my mouth shut, maybe they would assume I didn't understand English. That has never, ever worked for me.

I couldn't sleep from the dryness, altitude, and bedding that had been bombed with dryer sheets, so I was up early and stripped the bed to air out on my patio, only to hear the door slamming behind me and locking me out. I met one really nice painter last night who also arrived yesterday, but it was way too early to knock on her bedroom door to let me in. I went to campus security (we're on a college campus, also strange. This place is more of a dorm than a residency) and they said they couldn't help me but a very nice tall man seemed to notice my distress (no keys, no phone, no emergency numbers), and offered for me to use his phone. Except I had no idea who to call. But then he called someone, and they drove me over and the other guy tested ONE key on his big chain and I was in! So now I can get on with the day. More errands to run, a violin to drop off, and maybe I can get into my studio? Maybe.

Up and away

[By now, I'm sure the ceiling of the bindery at the Morgan is done. Even as I was leaving, most of the insulation was in place.] I'll be up in the sky again tomorrow, but at least once I land, I won't have to fly again for twelve weeks. Imagine that! I've put away my sketchbook, folded up my work table, and finally stored the heavy load of books, magazines, and other hard copy resources for my book. From here on out, all edits will have to be made without the luxury of consulting them! But hopefully in a few weeks, I will have sent my final version of the book away and then can get back to making art. For the first time in five years, I'm flying with my fiddle. Imagine that. I'm nervous, and the reunion won't happen until after I leave it with a violin shop for maintenance, but I'm hoping we both emerge rejuvenated.

Short and sweet

I was so pleased with the show that FVAC installed for me. The crowd was very nice and so supportive of the work, there were kids (yay! I never got to visit art openings at that age; this is a great time to start), and the food was good (which made it hard for me to stay away from when I knew I had to be near the art). I always forget how helpful it is to have the artist there to explain things. Not that the work can't speak for itself, but the illumination is always helpful.

Processing and recovering

Oh, wow. That week in Ohio was even more intense than my first trip to the Morgan when I worked around the clock. And this time I didn't lose any weight, either. The students were not very happy when I dragged them outdoors to see the kozo garden at the Morgan so I hustled them back in as quickly as I could. My fault for having them take off jackets BEFORE we took that trip outside. But I had been working for hours before they arrived so I was already as warmed up as I was going to get. I flew home yesterday after a late session of drying hanji (I crawled into bed at 2am and was up again by 6:20am). It's a miracle I didn't crash the rental car with all the heavy-eyed driving I was doing, but I was so happy to connect with the people that I did, both in Cleveland and at Oberlin.

Meanwhile, I got a lovely package of Bulhwaji books from Asao Shimura today. Ten books, all for sale at 22 USD each, contact me if you want to buy. About 11 leaves of info about hanji and Asao's trip to Korea, plus five small samples of hanji, four of them dyed with organic dye and kon'nyaku, and then two teeny samples of shifu (one washed white, one right after weaving).

I finally typed out my notes from the Book in East Asia workshop I was so honored to attend at Oberlin this past week. It was a day and a half of super intensity, but we all came away having learned a ridiculous amount. This image was from their postcards and posters for the public lectures, and we got to see the original at the art museum, which I loved straightaway. He is writing on a banana leaf! It's too wonderful. And what does it remind me of?

I love it! Anyhow, I did want to share a few notes from the workshop, which I believe is the first to gather scholars (professors, conservators, librarians, etc.) of the book in China/Korea/Japan:

To learn how to handle Chinese and Japanese scrolls, the Freer Sackler has videos online!

People love printmaking, and have for centuries (no one said this, I just remembered it).

Stab bindings (the official name being side-stitched bindings) happened in East Asia b/c the paper was so thin and flexible and strong. I usually hate teaching stabs because I was taught to do them with Western paper, and the cheap, thick, stiff stuff totally works against the binding.

Buddhists love books.

Even people who are obsessed with books don't seem to share that zeal for paper. Paper becomes invisible as it supports the contents of books.

Cutters, who were the artisans who cut woodblocks for printing, were itinerant (traveling for work), taught while they traveled/worked, and were willing to work for very low wages. I must have been a cutter in a past life because that is the exact description of me, now!

Even really smart scholars use words that they have never heard spoken aloud.

In research (and life, I believe), you only see something once you are ready to see it.

People are still willing to talk to me even on bad hair days (which will be every day until this cut grows out).

Most importantly, it is surreal to try and switch between manual labor and intellectual labor. I went from two days of pure brute force (beating fiber) to two days of sitting on my ass and listening to lectures and panels and papers and watching the slides go by, to three more days of wet, cold labor. But I am glad that the students went from the workshops and lectures to getting wet in the paper studio. It's always nice to come away with something tangible.

I'm going to be on various trains for something like eight hours tomorrow, all told, so I can make it to the closing reception of my solo exhibit in Connecticut. I don't think I've ever booked such last-minute tickets, but I was so wholly consumed in Ohio that I could not think an hour ahead of my present second. I am still confused as to what day and month and year it is, and in shock that I will be in Santa Fe in less than a week!

Flocculation

I'm still so exhausted I can't articulate myself or process the very full several days that have been zooming by in Cleveland, but at least all 168 sheets or so that the class made yesterday are finally dry.

Meanwhile, I used way too much retention aid and it cancels out PMP (and of course I don't have any PEO mixed up to go) so all I did today was do some smaller Japanese sheets, even smaller western sheets with blue kozo, and some hanji that was going well before the flocculation. I would have kept going but my body was screaming for a break. The water is COLD. Great for the paper, but hard for me. Time to check the heat dryer again!

Aftermath of many good things

Whew. These past few days have been completely exhausting and fulfilling all at once, with an excellent Book in East Asia workshop for two days, and then my papermaking workshop for students today. I was so pleased to meet the people I met and learn SO MUCH. I completely overshot in terms of the papermaking class. In my unreasonable desire for students to do mostly all fun for three hours, I left myself with four hours of cleanup and now many more hours to dry their paper before delivering it in two days. There were at least 13 if not more people making paper, and I didn't think it would be so bad, but I had to cut more pellons during class and had already cut well over 100, so now I am slowly drying. I took a break to make a little hanji for myself, but want to get a bunch of drying prep done tonight so I can at least have most of tomorrow to make hanji and relax somewhat.

HA! I am joking. There is no time to relax. But as ridiculous as my self-inflicted workload is, I am still so happy to be working. The labor keeps me honest. Back to the dryer!

"Eat and beat"

[Both of these are treats that Tom made and left for me from Morgan kozo.] Thus spake Velma this morning in an email. I knew I had a big day of beating fiber ahead of me, and it is over for now. Tom did a pound and then I asked Mason, their new wonderful papermaker, to help me with the rest. I did a lot of rinsing, too, and am going to see how rinsing after beating affects the paper. If I can even keep track.

There is a ton of prep left, but I have dinner plans with friends, and figured I can do a little tomorrow morning before driving west to Oberlin. It will be a miracle if I can even hold chopsticks tonight after all of that beating. The rest of the fiber, three pounds, I will leave for the students to beat in class.

What home feels like

I'm in Cleveland! And the Morgan is really building a new bindery. It will even have wood floors!

Tom helped me beat fiber today but even then, we're only done with a little over two pounds. Cooking four pounds at a time, the second batch is roiling, and I have to cook another five tomorrow. Beating, whew!

Twigs from Morgan kozo.

All smells as it should.

Rinsed kozo outside. When I got here, I had the same feeling as when I would come home from college. I'll be crazy busy for the next week but I'm so happy to be Home.

A step back to marvel

It's hard to see here, because I am not used to the camera on my phone and I don't like sticking it into my students' spaces too much, but Heather made the most amazing woven book cover this past weekend in class. She also hosted me, so generously, since I needed a pet-free place to stay, and took excellent care of me. Lots of tea and good things to eat, a beautiful garden to explore and contemplate, and so much artwork to admire in the home. I even got to look at the book she wrote years ago, both in the first edition and the Japanese edition. Lots of inspiration!

I had written to Frank after I got home last night to tell him about how impressed I was by the students, and he said that Bookworks students are all like that, which is why he so enjoys teaching there. I had no idea I was walking into such a hive of industriousness, though I did marvel at how clean and bright and neat the large studio and gallery spaces were, which indicates a community that really cares about taking good care of its shared space and equipment. There's lots of natural light, everything seems so tastefully considered, and the people who take classes clearly like each other a lot. It's a real community that has grown around the organization, which is a hard thing to do. But so satisfying when it really blossoms.

Tomorrow, off to another lovely community that loves books and paper in northeast Ohio! Younger, but just as vibrant. Ping-pong travel is hard, but at least I'm jumping from good people to good people.

Good until the last bit

I'm finally home after a long day of travel, maybe 7 or 8 hours straight. My Asheville workshop went well and Bookworks was lovely, such a beautiful space and warm community. My students astounded me with how much they got done over the weekend. I have never had such industrious students, nor a group who almost all finished an entire woven book cover before the end of class. This is Jessica with her second woven piece in the round (amazing that we even had time for me to briefly explain that process). I was so happy to meet Frank, finally, one of those 100% kind and good book and paper people. And my host was so very generous and kind, with the most beautiful garden I have seen one woman create all on her own. But I always teach all out, so naturally I was exhausted.

I flew from Asheville to Detroit, and was unwilling to wait over three hours for a long layover, so I paid to get onto an earlier one. After the flight to NYC, I took a bus to the train station, and finally the train home. I got a seat early and started to make paper cords, and later a man sat down next to me. I had my headphones on to drown out the sound of the men in front of me having a conversation. Maybe ten minutes or so after we left, the man next to me said in a not-very-nice tone, "Are you going to do that for the next 30 minutes?? I just want to know. I mean, DO IT, but you're making me insane." I was so shocked that I just looked at him, and then kept working. He had so generously granted me permission, didn't he? If he had asked nicely for me to stop, I certainly would have considered. Five minutes later, he said, "Seriously, just tell me if you are going to do this for the next 30 minutes. I have to know." I showed him the strips I had remaining and said I would do it until I was done with the strips, but had no way of timing how long that would take. He was Very Angry. I was deeply hurt b/c I am Very Sensitive. Five minutes later, he put away his book and took out his phone and started to videotape me, in what I believe was his attempt to intimidate me to stop. He put the phone right at my face, and then at my hands, and back and forth. Finally, he got up and walked away.

I hate when affluent white men feel such extreme entitlement that they need to harass people who muss their tidy patriarchy. There were so many things I considered saying, but I didn't even want to engage, since he was not in any place to be anything but high and mighty. The funny thing is that he has no idea what he was capturing on video, and how valuable that information is and has been, in the right hands.

Ecstatic amidst the busywork

This is before my overly zealous haircut that will cause me to have to grow my hair out for several months before I can appear in photos, trying to keep from busting out in laughter during my shoot with Terttu. I'm trying to tie up all sorts of loose ends before I start the Month of Outrageous Work Travel, but today, I was so happy to receive, sign, and run to the post office to return my book contract to my publisher! It's really happening.