Cats and Jammers Studio

A Great Script Stays With You

I confess: while I generally hate the culture of Hollywood and the values of the vast majority of people who live that life and inhabit those values, I LOVE movies. Well, that is to say, I love great movies. And one thing I have come to understand is that the best movies are not just filled with well directed scenes and great performances. No, the BEST movies have fantastic scripts. And those scripts produce lines that stay with you forever and tend to crop up in every day life and it's varied situations.

 

For example--the great scene  in You've Got Mail , as written by the late Nora Ephron, and as said by the charcter played by Tom Hanks,is that there everything in life can find an appropriate line from the Godfather. "The Godfather is the sum of all wisdom" he says when he tells her to "go to the mattresses." My husband and I laughed ourselves silly when we heard that. We have three boys. We had been saying that for years. That and "It's not personal; it's strictly busines." And there are countless others from The  Godfather, as well as Godfather, Part II. Our favorite from that movie is,"I'm going in to take a nap. When I wake, if the money's on the table, I'll know I have a partner. If not, I know I don't." I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out the life situation we apply it to.

And there are lots of lines from Ephron in "When Harry Met Sally." She was the master of wonderful dialogue.

Lines emerge often for life, if you love movies that you enjoy watching over and over again. There are great lines from Goodfellas. Like when Henry Hill, played by Ray Liotta, tells Tommy, "Tommy you're a funny guy." You can see that bit here.

"I'm funny how, I mean funny like I'm a clown? Do I amuse you?" 

There are several others from Goodfellas, as well. Like the last part when Henry has a busy day and the hellicopters are following him around when he is selling guns,and he almost crashes when he picks up his brother,  and he goes home to make meatbals and sauce, and gets the cut drugs from the girlfriend, and the gal whgo is supposed to fly won't leave without her lucky hat.... Well there were time when I was running around like a chicken without a head and my life felt like that day in the life of Henry Hill.

Of ourse, there is one of my faves, The Graduate. Especially when Benjamin tells his parents he is going to marry Elaine Robinson. "Ben, this idea sounds half baked."

 "No, it's completely baked," Ben replies. Well, we use that one a lot, too.

 

Others? Well Moonstruck, for one. That script is rich with quotables. "Cosmo, I just want you to know no matter that you do you're gonna die." 

It almost seems as though movies inhabit the collective consciousness in more ways than anyone ever imagined. And, of course, it's been that way, I am sure, for as long as there have been talkies.

This is on my mind tonight because there are some movies , like the ones above, that I never tire of watching because of the scripts. Like Pulp Fiction, for example. Samuel Jackson owns that movie for his lines. Did he shine in it? "Correctomundo!" He was gypped of the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. 

So, the next time you watch a movie, listen to the words spoken. REALLY LISTEN. Great scripts make for great movies. What are some of your favorites? What are some of the lines you find yourself using all the time?

BTW, this is one movie I almost forgot about. "29th Street." I haven't see it for years. I think It desrves another look. The sceenplay? Superb!

 

 

 

 

 

Taking risks, trying new materials, reinvention. It's what artists need to do.

Recently I had the pleasure, albeit a somewhat nervous pleasure, of being interviewed by my good friend Monica Lee of Smart Creative Women via Skype (nothing makes you more aware of age and weight than knowing you will be on camera). That interview will go live very soon, but I thought I would share some thoughts that Monica and I never really got to cover fully during the time we spoke, because time did, as time does in real life, fly by. I have also posted a companion post in my other blog, Design Rocket.

I have had the good fortune of being able to spend nearly one hundred percent of my time these last forty years, making art in one form or another. I did take a few years off when my two oldest sons were little, but when I think back on that time, I was always dong something creative (and most of it was donated for fundraising events of one kind or another), just not all of it professionally. Aside from that short break, it has pretty much been non-stop all the time.

But, nonstop at what?  Well, nonstop at art. Art in many forms and in many materials for many venues. In short: I've been a painter, puppeteer, doll maker, soft sculpture artist/craftsperson, editorial illustrator, children's book author and illustrator, fabric designer, licensed artist, and now I am also painting again. I’ve also spent a lot of time decorating houses, but, to be very honest, that makes me zero money. It only costs me money. But that's OK. It satisfies my soul. It's a medium I have to work in almost as much as my paints. “House--just another art material and artistic discipline."

But back to business. If I look back over all my years as an artist, I see one thing: my aesthetic sensibility has not changed much in forty years. I am still drawn to the same things I was drawn to in college--characters, details, expressive gestures, and emotions. I love color and texture and patterns. I especially like narratives. Everything I do tends to tell a story, and the story is in the details, textures and characters.

I have written about this before and in much more detail. You can read the first accout I wrote years ago for my very first web site. It really rambles and tells the story of the earliest years. Here is the place to read that. I created an abbreviated version for my current web site. You can ready that one here. 

I’m sharing some recent art here at Cats and Jammers Studio to coordinate with the interview. I am also sharing some of the house and other new art on my other blog, Design Rocket.

What message would I love to give other artists? This: don’t be afraid to re-invent yourself and try new things. Life as an artist is a wild journey on a winding road. A few years back, I posted a long post about moving in random directions in life, seemingly as if by pure serendipity. Well, life is that but it is also by luck and pluck, and maybe much less by design than we think. Please read that post, Serendipity + Pluck = Life.

Much of the art here is from my 2011 Sketchbook Project, “Coffee and Cigarettes.” I loved doing that book. I have done two others since. You can see the digital scans of my book here. And you can see the show opening containg paintngs based on the book here.

Participating in the Sketchbook Projects for the Art House Coop really feeds my artistic soul. My most recent book was titled “Strangers.” In doing that book I dedicated it to my painting and drawing professor of my sophomore year of college, John Patrick Murphy II. John was the head of the art department at Rockland Community College for more than 30 years. On the very first day I met him, I shared some paintings and he gave me advice that has stayed with me all these years: “Barbara, draw out of your head.” Meaning, draw from the well within you that has your memories and your impressions. And that is the way I have worked ever since.

John very recently passed away. This post is dedicated to him, because, really, meeting him and getting to know him was pure serendipity and it pointed me along the way on my own artistic journey.

 

 

A little tribute to Simms Tabak

Simms Tabak was one of very favorite illustrators, if not THE favorite. He very recently passed away and since I find that this blog seems more and more to be about losing artists who have touched me, it would be terribly remiss to not talk about Simms.

Although I got to know his books through reading them to my youngest son, Ben, I actually got to know his art when I first used one of his designs to wallpaper the room of my middle son, Mike. That was more than 22 years ago. Sadly, I cannot find a single image to post to show that lovely wallpaper. And it has been long papered over. It do remember that it was leaping kids, a boy and a girl, doing jumping jacks or something to that effect. If anyone has any left or knows where I can get some, PLEASE contact me!

I just discovered a wonderful video created based on his Old Lady WHo Swallowed a Fly book. It is narrated and the music sung by Cindy Lauper. I think this may be the best video adaptation of a kids' book I have ever seen. It seems that I cannot embed it. But go to Youtube and watch. It is totally worth the time.

I think my very favrotie book was the Caldecott wining, Joseph Had a Little Overcoat.

I think that this book is everything one can want in a children's book. It is has a page turning quality, with a lovely repetitive rhythm. It is fun. It is also beautifully illustrated, without being tight and self important and self congratulatory, not to mention pretentious, which is what so many kids' book art is. Not this book. The art has a wonderful mock-primitive feel that is actually extremely sophisticated and extraordinarily satisfying, from an artist's point of view. Any artist, even in the absence of liking kids' books, would love and appreciate this artwork. The art stands completely on its own. To be honest, a lot of art for kids' books may hold up in the children's book market, but would fall flat as art for art's sake. Tabak's art soars way above that crowd.

By the way. if you go to his web site, you can buy a signed poster. The proceeds are going to a college fund for his grandchildren. Satisfy your need to have his wonderful art, and also help out. I bought a few, this wonderful fish poster among them.

 

 

R.I.P., Milton Rogovin. Thank you for the inspiration.

In the early to mid-1970s, I was living in Buffalo. Having grown up in the NY/NJ area, and pretty much mired in the overpowering megalopolis of NYC, the contrast of Buffalo, against what I was familiar with, was striking. Make no mistake. Even though the city is officially in the state of New York, Buffalo is very much a part of the great Midwest. For me, it was extremely different. In the winter the sun NEVER came out. It was a city that had a small town feel. The foods had different names. There were even foods served in restaurants up there that nobody thought of back then (they don't call them Buffalo Wings for nothing). The accent? The total opposite of a New York accent. A Buffalo accent is the same as a  Chicago accent--the A's cannot possibly get any flatter. 

In those years, I was a stranger in a strange land. We had no money. We barely eked out an existence. Naturally, I did the only thing I could do: I made art. And my art reflected my experience. It was dark and it was pensive. 

Fresh out of college, I had left painting and drawing behind for fiber art, because the trauma of an obnoxious art program made me want to flee from what I knew. And so, I began to create in cloth the very figures I had always drawn. The odd thing was this: as unfamiliar as it was, Buffalo was the perfect place to really get in touch with myself and my aesthetic.

And THAT is where Milton Rogovin came in. I had been making cloth figures for about a year when I discovered his photographs. I was already familiar with the work of Diane Arbus.  I found her photos tremendously inspiring. But Rogovin's work touched me in a way that made for a shift in my thinking. What I learned from Milton Rogovin is that portraiture is best when in context. That is to say, that the things that people surround themselves with or the things that hover in the background, are as much a statement about who the persons are, as are their actual faces. And his work contained a more positive, and less depressing "feel." The picture above was part of the collection of his work that first caught my eye in the mid seventies when I was still living and working on the north side of Buffalo.

His work  influenced me even more in my years as an editorial illustrator. The work I did in the early to late 80s was filled with the kinds of images that might have been pictures taken of actual people by Mr. Rogovin, had they been real and not out of my imagination. I like to think that I channeled  his way of thinking into my art as an illustrator, as I had done as a fiber artist.

What I also love about Rogvin's work is that it has much less  "photographer presence." His ego does not get in the way. His subjects seem to shine forth on their own with a power and confidence, no matter  their social standing, for there is an astonishing lack of judgment on his part while he captures them on film.

Milton Rogovin has just passed away at the age of 101. That I should read about his death on the very day that my Sketchbook Project is to arrive at the ART HOUSE Co-op is totally appropriate. Almost eerie, since I think the lessons I learned from his work all those years ago are evident in my sketches of today. I guess when all is said and done, we do not stray very far from our artistic roots.

His was a life filled with the appreciation for the kinds of people who are often unsung. Do yourself a favor and check out his work. There is a wonderful slideshow at the NYTimes, along with audio from Rogovin, here.  I did blog about him at some point, but I cannot locate that post. Oh, well. He was a youngster then, and still in his nineties.

As for me, I will take his passing at this particular time as a sign to continue to make art, from my heart, and in the very non-commercial way that I did 35 years ago. Thank you, Mr. Rogovin. 

Serendipity + Pluck = Life

There was an interesting article in today's New York Times Business section entitled "Well-Orchestrated Accidents," as told to Patricia R. Olson.  It caught my eye because of the word "accident." That word, being in the business section, seemed a touch out of sync for me, but it was enticing enough to catch me because I am a firm believer in the power-magic-inevitability of "serendipity," a word not usually used in the same sentence as "business plans."

I assume the column comes under a regular heading called "The Boss." I wouldn't know if that is a regular column or not. Nutty artist that I am, I hardly ever read the Sunday Business section. I had to be  lured to read it by the front page piece entitled "Pulling Art Sales Out of Thinning Air," which was all about art sales in this crazy economy ( and remember, that read "thinning air," not thinning hair, which also is a by product of a tough economy).

Anyway, I enjoyed the read which told about Evan WIlliams, C.E.O. of Twitter, which, until a month or so ago, I was fairly unfamiliar with. I especially liked reading about Mr. Evans and his transformation from Nebraska farm boy to web mogul. And I was struck by the journey that he has taken so far, at the ripe old age of 36. I like life journeys. The voyeur in me especially loves reading about other people's. I am pretty nosey.

I handed the article to my 22 year old son and suggested he read about the extent of "going with the flow" in this man's life, and about how  being in the right place at the right time seemed to work to his advantage.  My son dismissed me out of hand after he read it:  "It has nothing to do with serendipity. In fact, it's just the opposite."

Oy.

So I went back and read the piece again. 

Please forgive my metaphor overload, but after a second read, I still maintain that it is all about allowing the wind to take you places, but knowing enough when to steer the boat yourself. It made me think back to all the times that I have followed the wind, even never knowing where I was going, and yet I found myself ending up in the best place for me to be.

It has happened to me from the time I was a kid until the present. Yes, I take active steps toward goals that I set for myself. But many time those goals come about as the result of something totally unplanned and unanticipated in my life. They are lucky accidents. Directions I never dreamed of. And I follow them. Some examples of pure chance that ended up changing my life for the better:

1) When I was a kid, my family moved to Stony Point, New York (because it was the only town in which they could afford to buy a house) and in 7th grade, I met the love of my life, and future husband.

2) Strictly on a lark, at the age of 19, I took a job at a school where I met Lois Bohevesky, who began to teach at the same school. She turned me on to puppetry, so I went with her into NY for a summer to study at the Bil Baird Theatre.

3. Because of that, my husband-to-be and I became puppeteers.

4. We transferred to SUNY Buffalo to be together ( and I passed up the chance to attend Parsons in NYC and major in illustration). At some point we gained a reputation as puppeteers in Buffalo and we were hired to perform at a Craft Fair. The committee that hired us was not able to pay our full fee, so they gave me a booth to sell my hand made  puppets.

(that's the very booth above)

5. Because of that, we were hired to perform at another craft show, and after that I ended up being invited to exhibit my creations as well at a very reputable craft fair at Kenan Center, in Lockport, NY.

 6. At that craft show, I heard about the American Crafts Council show in Rhinebeck, NY and thought I would give that a try.

 7. I did that show and began to sell my dolls/soft sculptures all over the country, full time.

 8. When we moved to Boston, I took a job teaching soft sculpture at the Boston Center for Adult Ed. Because I taught there, I got to take a free course, so I tooka course in graphic design. I learned all about getting things into print and I made a decision to pursue illustration…again.

 9.  I put together a portfolio and became an illustrator in 1982. Shortly afterwards we took a trip to Florida. On another lark, I took my portfolio to the Miami Herald and the Ft. Lauderdale News.  

I ended up leaving Tropic Magazine with an assignment that very vacation and  I did a number of assignments for both of those publications for several years after that. 

11. In 1987, when our oldest son was a baby, we took a trip around the country for a month. What the hell. I took my portfolio. I ended up doing art  for the Chicago Times Magazine, Chicago Magazine, and the Detroit Free Press after that.

(Chicago Times Magazine above)

Let's fast forward to 1997. Past the "baby period" and kid chasing period. Past other countless examples of accidental life (we’ll keep this basically professional). Two more sons arrived (and, believe me, they were REALLY happenstance) and I decided at some point to go back to illustration. 

12. One day, completely out of the blue, I got a call from someone I hadn't spoken to in about 15 years. We started gabbing and she gave me the name of someone running an SCBWI group in Cambridge. On yet another lark I went to the meeting and that led to attending my first SCBWI conference. And from that point on I was bitten by the bug I had put aside many years before: to pursue illustration, especially  for children's books.

 For me, the rest is history. Other "on a larks" and other "simply-by-chance" episodes. They keep happening to me. Like the on-line writing group I "accidentally' ended up in around 2000, that is still growing strong. Like the group of artists I "accidentally" connected with, who, even after my reluctance, have now turned me on the idea of licensing my art. I value their energy and ideas and find them inspiring. As a result I will be doing the Surtex show in May. Yet another ride on the wind, and I have no idea where I will end up. 

Am I preparing for Surtex with a vengence? You betcha! I don’t leave that much to chance, ya know.  But still, I often wonder: how did I get here? Sometimes the only answer really is "the wind."

So, that is why I do believe in meaningful accidents and the power of serendipity. Life is much better when you do not try to over-plan. My advice to aspiring artists is to always leave themselves open to good accidents. Go catch some wind. See where you end up. And then know when to jump off onto your own two feet.

My Transformation into Digital Geekdom-inatrix.....

If I were to own a retail business, there is only one kind I would opt for: art supplies.

To say I LOVE art supplies and art supply stores is like saying I love to breathe. Whenever I go into town for paints I m always full of wonder and dying to try just about anything they carry. And sometimes I actually convince myself that I WILL find time to give new methods and materials a try, so I actually buy them.

I am STILL waiting to try my hand at crackling my painted illustrations.Got that crackle stuff. And gessos--I have a ton of different gessos with all kinds of textures, from sandy to gravel. Plus papers-can never have too many kinds of Hot Press laying around. Don't even get me started about my gazillion dollars worth of scrap booking crapola...

So, in keeping with my love of new materials, and ways to create images, I have become enamored of my computer, since I also do some work digitally. I love digital cameras, printers, scanners and so on. And what better "material" to covet and get than the new CINTIQ by Wacom? I just bought the 20 inch wide screen and I am in digital heaven. This is about as close to feeling like I am working on real paper with real materials as I have ever felt on a computer.

If you are not aware of the Cintiq then check out the videos available. I am telling you--this thing is as good as it looks.

This is NOT me below, of course, but I do feel as cool as this Youtube Video sounds....