Some incredible, talented, strong women recently bought a bunch of our jewelry to wear on their
music tour. i have been thrilled to be able to call them clients...but until this morning, i really didn't think about
just what an honor it was to be in their company.
this morning, as i sat down to make some glovelettes and arm casts to send to them, i thought about these amazing women.
i listened to their cd, and watched" Shut up and Sing" again.
i am proud to be a small part of these women's lives. i am proud to be a part of something that i believe we all share...
partnership, love, art, music, friends, strength, beauty...
and, also, quite honestly, ...i'm intimidated as hell.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
art shows.....
these pics are for my friend Susie Lubell, a very successful, hard working artist and mom.... you should check out her fabulous, hilarious blog: Inner Toddler. i have been following her for over a year now....
there are so many parallels between the job of motherhood and the job of a professional artist.
among the many, striking similarities, the following is especially true of trunk shows/art shows and raising children:
you will never be able to prepare yourself for what is expected of you, despite the millions of hours spent trying...
you will always be: packing every thing but the one thing you really need, showing up early on the one day that everyone else is late, presenting yourself professionally in the one moment when no one is looking, expecting that everyone else has their shit together more than you do.....
there just ain't a manual.
these pictures were taken of an art space in SF where we had a show recently. the show opened at 6pm. these pictures were taken at 6:30ish. we were the only vendors there until 7.
it worked out beautifully in the end...just like you always hope it does.
there are so many parallels between the job of motherhood and the job of a professional artist.
among the many, striking similarities, the following is especially true of trunk shows/art shows and raising children:
you will never be able to prepare yourself for what is expected of you, despite the millions of hours spent trying...
you will always be: packing every thing but the one thing you really need, showing up early on the one day that everyone else is late, presenting yourself professionally in the one moment when no one is looking, expecting that everyone else has their shit together more than you do.....
there just ain't a manual.
these pictures were taken of an art space in SF where we had a show recently. the show opened at 6pm. these pictures were taken at 6:30ish. we were the only vendors there until 7.
it worked out beautifully in the end...just like you always hope it does.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Histories..
....this morning, listening to the tail end of a story about John Houston, i am moved to write about the beauty of history.
in this case, i am writing about personal history. yet...is there really such a thing? isn't history just what we share....?
my grandparents loved their generation. they were beautiful, wealthy, social....they spoke with the lilte of the movies and remembered the times when the moon shone on the water and the apple blossoms fell, and there were stars in their eyes. they remember crossing the bay in a ferry, San Francisco's first cars, the invention of the ball-point-pen, and dear letters; written from across the sea to each other.
last night, i dreamed that they were sitting in the entry way of a glamourous hotel...their backs to the door, as they watched an old movie on a black and white T.V.
this morning, i'm listening to someone talk about "The Breakfast Club". those weren't pretty times. i imagine that the same goes for WWII...
...and why reminisce with such affection?
our history is dear.
so, i wonder, as i mull through collections of delicate filigree, hand-painted cameos and tin hearts, how different is my reverence for the loving workmanship of these objects of the last century, from my unrepentant adoration of the shiny plastic lightning bolts of my generation?
in this case, i am writing about personal history. yet...is there really such a thing? isn't history just what we share....?
my grandparents loved their generation. they were beautiful, wealthy, social....they spoke with the lilte of the movies and remembered the times when the moon shone on the water and the apple blossoms fell, and there were stars in their eyes. they remember crossing the bay in a ferry, San Francisco's first cars, the invention of the ball-point-pen, and dear letters; written from across the sea to each other.
last night, i dreamed that they were sitting in the entry way of a glamourous hotel...their backs to the door, as they watched an old movie on a black and white T.V.
this morning, i'm listening to someone talk about "The Breakfast Club". those weren't pretty times. i imagine that the same goes for WWII...
...and why reminisce with such affection?
our history is dear.
so, i wonder, as i mull through collections of delicate filigree, hand-painted cameos and tin hearts, how different is my reverence for the loving workmanship of these objects of the last century, from my unrepentant adoration of the shiny plastic lightning bolts of my generation?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
hey...ya wanna see a lovely article about BV? check it!...
http://www.santacruzsentinel.com/localnews/ci_14773372>
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Every Intention...
well, i had every intention of making this blog about the fun we've had making stuff...there were fluffy dreams of drunken photo shoots and dress-up parties and documented long walks on the train tracks....there were roses and thorns and broken glasses and glasses spilling champagne....and above and exceeding all else...there was to be Jane and me...
we were so happy to share our stories and plans, snugged up in Jane's cozy bed..and, always forgetting dinner, we read and wrote and drank and told each other over and over how pretty we looked in torn vintage Christain Dior and Chinese pinks...
it all happened that way. really. just like that.
so, the classic story goes....in love with the stuff of life, and each other...we drew to ourselves our fondest dreams...
and then, busy with our newest creation, we have had less..well, no railroad time and we only dress up for photo shoots and sales meetings...no more drunken photo ops from under the duvet....
however, there are so many more roses and stories to share....i'll take a moment to absolve success for all of it's thorns and accept a sense of grown-up-ness about what we do....and promise with all of my heart to keep having fun and to not forget to share this adventure with dear friends.
we were so happy to share our stories and plans, snugged up in Jane's cozy bed..and, always forgetting dinner, we read and wrote and drank and told each other over and over how pretty we looked in torn vintage Christain Dior and Chinese pinks...
it all happened that way. really. just like that.
so, the classic story goes....in love with the stuff of life, and each other...we drew to ourselves our fondest dreams...
and then, busy with our newest creation, we have had less..well, no railroad time and we only dress up for photo shoots and sales meetings...no more drunken photo ops from under the duvet....
however, there are so many more roses and stories to share....i'll take a moment to absolve success for all of it's thorns and accept a sense of grown-up-ness about what we do....and promise with all of my heart to keep having fun and to not forget to share this adventure with dear friends.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
It's lovely to find a picture of BlankVerse jewelry, by surprise, in the SF Chronicle.....
please see" latest article in the SF Chronicle" posted in the "what we're checking out" column..to the right.
Monday, December 28, 2009
when it's raining...
when it's raining we're happy to have a warm, dry studio.
we wake and talk and muse and are amused...the world around us may
seep in, drip in, creep in.
and MAY it all seep in, sink in, waft, wisp, wander in...
all of it is welcome to reside among the
ancient pins; nestling a bit of a lover's hair,
earrings; painted like a taxi-cab,
worn out wedding sleeves and ties with
no neck to cradle....
we adore you. we adorn you.
ahhh yeah.
we wake and talk and muse and are amused...the world around us may
seep in, drip in, creep in.
and MAY it all seep in, sink in, waft, wisp, wander in...
all of it is welcome to reside among the
ancient pins; nestling a bit of a lover's hair,
earrings; painted like a taxi-cab,
worn out wedding sleeves and ties with
no neck to cradle....
we adore you. we adorn you.
ahhh yeah.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
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