Cats and Jammers Studio

Yeah, I know Valentine's Day is over, but ....

This is so in tune with my pulp fiction covers and Fancy Nancy YA book jacket, that I HAVE to share a  link sent to me by my friend Liz for "Vinatge Valentines WTF." And if you these are strange, wait until you see the rest of the fantastic collection.

The series conclusion: Fancy Nancy YA Book cover.

Just could not resist this. Guess there is nothing new under the sun, especially nick names.

Or as Fancy Nancy might say, "This is a super, wondrous, sensual example of of how I am gonna look after some enhancement surgery to make my body "Fancy."

When a Good Girl Goes Bad.....on Pinterest

I tried. I really really tried. But..but I didn't try THAT hard.

Of course, my reputation is still intact. I am talking about my obsession with finding imagery and posting it on Pinterest. And lately, my biggest pleasure has been finding old paperback pulp fiction covers and then adding my own captions. 

You don't know about Pinterest? That might be a good thing, because it is already an addiction for me when I need a few minutes of down time from work. It's like keeping scrapbooks of your favorite imagery, and getting to share it with EVERYONE. And the site is growing. Here is a piece on it from Mashable.

My Flag is Down is actually from my own paperback collection. As my friend Liz said, "I bet it won't be down for long."

And I just discoverd the newer, less "upright" cover for this novel. By the look on his face, I'm not so sure this Taxi driver will know what to do to get that flag up again.

Pop over to my Pinterest Board and have a look see for yourself. But be warned--Pinterest is great fun!

(Incidentally, I happened to catch Tarrentino's Pulp Fiction on TV last night. I do love that movie!)

Finally I have this to say: I am going to try to figure out a way to use the word "SWELL" on a daily basis. And it will have nothing to do with sprains.

Photo essay from The Kingston Lounge

I live for this kind of photography: haunting shots of once lively and active places, now in ruins. There is something that hits a nerve somewhere within me that makes me look at the disintegration of old structures, and see it not just as it is, but as it must have been. 

There's a lot to read and a lot to see in this wonderful photo essay about  New York's North Brother Island and abandoned Riverside Hospital from The Kingston Lounge, which may soon become another favorite photo blog for me, right up there with Shorpy. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves and the history tell it's own story.

Daily Dose of Humor, Part II: CAKE WRECKS-Sweet!

 All photos courtesy of Cakewrecks

Here is the problem when you like to blog and when you also like to read the blogs of others: it all takes time, and on any given day, I seem to have less and less of it. Truth be known, when it comes to choosing between entertaining myself reading what other people have written or attempting to wax poetic myself and share my thoughts with readers, I choose--you guessed it--entertaining myself! Surprise, surprise!

In the blog post before this one, I wrote about getting in my daily dose of pick-me-up at Awkward Family Photos. Love the site. Can't stay away. Can't stop laughing. 

But my other, equally enjoyable place to visit and find a smile on my face and maybe even tears of laughter in my eyes is CAKE WRECKS. Cake Wrecks is exactly that--a blog devoted to the so-called professionally done cakes one can buy in a bakery, supermarket, or wherever, that are, in a word, wrecks. As defined by Jen Yates, the genius behind the site and the book that came out of the site:

 WHAT IS A WRECK?

"A Cake Wreck is any cake that is unintentionally sad, silly, creepy, inappropriate - you name it. A Wreck is not necessarily a poorly-made cake; it's simply one I find funny, for any of a number of reasons. Anyone who has ever smeared frosting on a baked good has made a Wreck at one time or another, so I'm not here to vilify decorators: Cake Wrecks is just about finding the funny in unexpected, sugar-filled places."

 Cakewrecks Caption: "Poo-Dolph, the Bulldozed Slain Deer"

I am not overstating  how very clever Jen Yates is. While the shots of pathetic looking cakes are silly, it is Yates' writing that  makes the site such a treat. Her text, combined with some of the most ridiculous looking baked goods known to man, has perfect comic pitch and timing--if you can have good timing on a blog. I usually find myself laughing out loud in the same way I do at Awkward Family Photos.

As though being incredibly funny wasn't more than enough, right now Cake Wrecks is making money for charities. Here is info about the Cake Wreck Charity Challenge:

"Instead of buying gifts or trees or decorations this year, John and I are going to donate a minimum of $200 to a different charity or worthy cause, every day, for the next two weeks.

Are you up for my dollar-a-day challenge? Then give one dollar each day to each charity. That's it! Together, we can use the power of Wreckage for good, and make a difference for those in need."

Head over to the site and partake of the sweets and go back and check out some older wreckerators, too. Then be generous and check out the various charities and give a buck. Believe me, the kind of smiles that the site will give you are worth so much more.

Er....fair disclosure. If you do not have an appreciation for good old fashioned bathroom humor, the "flavor" of the site may be lost on you. Also, sometimes the subtle humor of the site is best appreciated by we (ahem) sophisticated adults. 

 
 

Smile! Say cheesy!

 

All photos courtesy Awkward Family Photos

Addicted. Totally. And without remorse of any kind. It's my computer and I. It's not just that I love using it as a tool to create art. It's the web. The Internet is my worst vice and my greatest enjoyment. I am always on it. My husband has even said that someday he expects to come home find me stuck INSIDE the monitor, like some sort of Twilight Zone episode.

 
I can justify it to some extent, because I am not a TV watcher of any significance. I'd rather be on line, checking out everything from eBay to newspapers to blogs by other artists and writers then sitting in front of some mindless sitcom or self important drama. I've even discovered a whole cache of blogs that write about vintage stuff and collecting, which is what this very blog started out as about 5 years ago. There is no end to the kind of information I suddenly find myself interested in. Hey--wanna  know more about scroll saws? Ask me!

Lately, however, my addiction to the net has to do with something more essential: getting my daily dose of humor. And my top choice of enjoyment?  AWKWARD FAMILY PHOTOS.

  
The magic of photography is the capture of the small moment. The unseen record keeper getting the great shot in the split second. Naturally, we think of the epitome of this genre, Henri Cartier-Bresson: 

"The simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as the precise organization of forms which gives that event its proper expression... . In photography, the smallest thing can be a great subject. The little human detail can become a leitmotif." 

And then, sometime the success and attraction of photography comes in the form of the posed picture or the planned portrait. I could go on and on about that kind of photo shoot with regard to the genuine artists I love who perfected that genre, like Diane Arbus, but since I am talking about my daily laugh-out-loud moment, let me get back to Awkward Family Photos, a site dedicated to just that: awkward family photos--the kinds of pictures we shoot or are taken of us that are generally purposeful or meant to be taken seriously, but end up anything but. The sort of picture that tells us much more than the picture's subjects may have intended.

 
No matter what my mood is, once I head over to this web site, I am laughing. Literally. Sometimes to the point of tears. And, I even look at the older entries, and laugh again. And again. Of course, I must give credit to the site's creators, because often it is their captions for the photos that make for the funniest part of my visit. The caption for the picture below is: You can always spot the father who someday, will have trouble letting go.

 
If pictures alone are not enough for you, there are also great stories shared by family members. Like this hysterical letter regarding what kind of responsibility guests need to take on to insure a successful Thanksgiving. Ahem! Read it now, you lazy schnorers, you!

I have to admit I had the hardest time choosing pictures to put in this post. And, once I started looking at the site again, I couldn't stop. That's a problem, because things that need to get done are not getting done. I'm having too much fun hanging out at AFP. My best advice is to tell you that you need to really take your time and check out the site for yourself. Make sure to pour over every page. CAUTION: DO NOT SIT AT YOUR COMPUTER WITH ANY SORT OF BEVERAGE, UNLESS YOU DON'T CARE IF YOU SPRAY YOUR DRINK THROUGH YOUR NOSE ONTO YOUR KEYBOARD.

 
Once you've had a chance to get your own belly laughs, head over to this site and vote for AFP. They deserve to win!

Finally, let me share my favorite picture from AFP. Look closely. Look VERY closely.  BTW, has anyone seen Aunt Telcia?

 
 

The Next Best Thing to Being There: the Shorpy Time Machine

If you read this blog, you already know that I obsess about the passing of time. You know that I wish I could time travel. You know that I love antiques and Ken Burns and the Oxford Project and anything that allows me a glimpse into the past. 

Now that I have discovered Google Street View, I even take trips to old neighborhoods of my past so I can "walk around" a see what those places now look like compared to  years ago. Let me tell you that can be fun, but also depressing. Sometimes places look very much like they did when I was living there, like my old street and house in Stony Point, New York (but the town itself is totally different) or the house my husband and I lived in in Buffalo, NY,  as newlyweds. Most of the time, however, things have changed so much, I don't recognize the neighborhood at all, or, in the worst case scenario, they  don't even exist, which is the case with both of the apartment buildings I lived in as a child with my grandparents in Newark, New Jersey. Gone. Empty lots. Rubble.

The discovery of Google Street View is just one of the wonderful things I came upon when I discovered my absolute favorite, MUST VISIT EVERYDAY blog: SHORPY.

To quote from the site:

THE 100-YEAR-OLD PHOTO BLOG

  Shorpy.com | History in HD is a vintage photography blog featuring thousands of high-definition images from the 1850s to 1950s. The site is named after Shorpy Higginbotham, a teenage coal miner who lived 100 years ago.

The blog is run by Dave, who posts the most magnificent high resolution pictures of years gone by. I do not know any personal information about Dave, except that he has some facinating looking family members whose mid century pictures he occasionally puts up on the site.  

Each day, he shares several pictures, most scanned from glass negatives. Because of this, when you click the link to view the images at their full sizes, the clarity is astounding. Often, I feel as though I am right there, standing in place, a hundred years ago, or more,  in real time. I look for small details of every day life, like clothing, furniture, signs, etc. I look for things that give me an idea of what even the most mundane aspects of living were like so very long ago. The size and sharpness of the posted photos allows the viewer to linger over the images like a detective looking for clues to a crime. I do that, only I am looking for clues to  the past. Is the shirt soft looking? Is that a package of gum? What did they buy in the drugstore? I am less interested in the specifics of who the people were or where the shot is taken. I want small details. I am looking for that feeling of being transported over time into the spot where the picture was shot, imagining that I am there, and the time is now. I want to capture that very moment. 

My favorite shots are those that are street scenes or store interiors or average neighborhoods with average people milling around. It is those scenes that really transport me back and allow me to pretend I was truly there. Perhaps it has something to do with actually having lived a childhood in the 1950s where much evidence of the early 20th century was still very much around and a part of my everyday experience. A lot of the places I frequented as a kid in 1958 still looked as they did 50 years before, so much of this imagery takes me back to my own childhood. Like now. Think about it: many things around us now also look the same now as they did 50 years ago. And now, what was common or familiar to me in the 50s, is officially one hundred years old. Time flies, doesn't it? 

Make sure to read the story about the kid, Shorpy, the namesake of the blog, who was a child laborer from Alabama in 1910, and whose picture I have put above.  Check out the pictures of Shorpy taken by  Lewis Wickes Hine  (a photographer who took a great many wonderful pictures in the early 20th century and who sadly died in poverty, unappreciated in his last years for his great photographs) and read what little is know about this little worker.

Aside from the pleasure of the time travel experience I have when I linger over the wonderful pictures, I enjoy the comments left by people who visit the blog and who have plenty to say about the photos. The comments are almost as much fun as the pictures. And a lot of these people are doing the same as I: looking for clues to the past hidden in the details. 

You can become a member of the site ( which I have been meaning to do, and will make myself do today!), which makes leaving comments easier, and also allows you to post your own pictures. 

The real danger of visiting Shorpy? You can lose yourself for hours and hours, going over all the wonderful pictures archived on the site. I did that several times this past summer. I lost myself in the pictures and in time.  It really is the closest thing to a time machine I have found for a long time. Hey, I think I'll go grocery shopping, circa 1964. Wonder what wonderful junk food I'll find...

Some very curious curios. Guess all my stuff is not so bad after all....

When I look around my house and see the enormous amount of stuff I have managed to collect and inflict on my family, I sometimes feel...well..a little guilty. I wonder if they would all somehow live a life of minimal objects with a different mother and wife. I think my husband would clearly live is less clutter. He is very neat and organized by nature. Not anymore. I corrupted him. He sort of "caught" whatever it is that has always ailed me, and he now subscribes to the same sort of busy look in decor that he has come to know and love. In a way, my kids have, as well, though I doubt that they will ever be as far advanced with this malady as I am.

With those thoughts in mind, you can imagine how utterly relieved I was to read an article in today's NY Times about renowned urologist and Columbia professor Dr. John Lattimer, who passed away at the age of 92, and left behind a life's collection of oddities that certainly puts my mundane assortments of objects to shame.

I think I would have found Dr. Lattimer to be a kindred spirit. The article points to the fact that he was an only child of two only children. So was I. It mentions that somehow his collecting was an effort to hold on the the past. I agree. And it is more. Somehow owning a piece or two of the past, helps to grasp the present. I would even go so far as to say that it increases understanding of the future.

My husband and I have often joked about what our poor kids will have to deal with when they need to figure out what to do with over 100 cookie jars, even more pieces of carnival chalkware, tons of cowboy stuff, and a gazillion vintage tablecloths, not to mention everything else in this house.

But this we can guarantee them: they will not have to deal with anything even remotely similar to the type of relics being sort by Lattimer's daughter Evan, as she catalogs his vast collection for sorting for auction, discarding, and keeping.

How do I know this? Read the article. What gives me the right to sound so damned cocky, pun intended? This fact: I do not have in my posession, for example, anything even close to being Napolean's penis.....

A children's book artist from the past: Sandra James

The summer is here and I have made my way up to New Hampshire where the pace is slower and more peaceful. Seriously, the pace really is slower. With my lead foot on the pedal I have had the humiliating experience of having the NH driver in front of me pull over to let me go by, because I must have been too close on his tail in "Boston Speed Driver" mode. Let me tell you, nothing makes you feel more like an arrogant city slicker and a jackass, than having a local resident feel the need to actually stop on the side of the road, to let the nutcake behind him zoom by.

This year the summer is a little different, since we will be going back and forth much more between Massachusetts and Hebron for most weeks. Usually I try to just settle in and stay put, but family affairs and scheduled surgery for my husband will see us mostly here on weekends.

That being the case, my collecting time up here in the treasure trove known as New Hamshire antique stores will be limited. But I'll try to squeeze a few outings in anyway.

One of the things I have begun seriously collecting is artwork by unknowns. I have found most of what I have up here. Most often I find landscapes, framed, and signed, painted with love, and often 50, 75, even more than 100 years old. The art I buy is pretty inexpensive, but lovely. The paintings I am drawn to were painted by some undiscovered painter, with plenty of talent, if not reputation.

And that is how I came upon the wonderful painting pictured above, although I actually found this one in a consignment shop in MA.

There was something very sepcial about this painting. Hard to put my finger on it, but there was a real talent and hint of whimsy that said "professional." On the back of this watercolor I found a label with this information:

American Watercolor Society Member 1950
TITLE: "Phil's Wharf"
ARTIST: Sandra James
ADDRESS: 554 West 114th Street, NYC

With the magic of Google, I disovered that Sandra James was a children's book illustrator. She seemed to have done a series of books by Alice Turner Curtis, one of these being A LITTLE MAID OF OLD CONNECTICUT, and other similar titles. Another book I found was from 1944, by Eleanor Youmans entitled: MOUNT DELIGHTFUL: THE STORY OF ELLEN EVANS AND HER DOG TAFFY.

On the askart.com web site, I was able to find only one other example of her paintings--a landscape of Central Park.

She was married to another artist by the name of Syd J. Browne.

I am trying to find more books illustrated by Sandra James, and any additional information I can get my hands on. If you are someone who is familiar with her work, her books, or can tell me anything about her, I would so love to hear from you.

This painting speaks to me, and, in a way, I feel that Sandra James is doing the same. I also find strangely pleasant the fact that my husabnd's name is Phil, like the title of the painting.

We interrupt this regularly scheduled program...

..to show you this:

I don't know why, but this just soooo appeals to me. Maybe it has something to do with having an aesthetic sensibility that embraces Elvis Lamps. Or maybe it is because I just got back from San Antonio and I want to bring a little of the south up here to Massachusetts.

Whatever. I NEED this for my patio. I want to put it right by the running waterfall pond with the swimming coy. Of course, I'll serve little drinks with umbrellas, and also light Tiki torches.

And in the winter, I'd bring it inside the house and stick it in the middle of the sun room.

We'll see. Maybe by summer....

Now back to business.

Coming up on Saturday: BLOG TOUR visit by author/illustrator Joe Kulka. Make sure to visit. Joe is VERY funny....