Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

LINOLEUM PRINTS: the beginning of an epic adventure

Let's talk about linoleum printing.

First, I'll admit: I really had no idea what I was getting into with linoleum printing at all. All I really knew was that I had come across some really cool limited edition art prints (like this one and this one) and thought, "Hey! Those look really cool! I should do that!" One can, of course, reproduce similar effects using Photoshop, but for someone like me who is still more or less a novice in the illustration world, the easiest way to get nice textures is to . . . use real materials.

If you clicked through to the links, you'll note that neither of the two prints I was inspired by were actually linoleum prints -- the first was a letterpress print, and the second was a screenprint. I really like both of those styles and hope later to be able to make prints that way, but a letterpress requires an actual wooden press (thus the name) which would require either a lot of money or time to construct. As far as screenprinting goes . . . essentially you use a light-exposure technique to create a stencil of your design on a cloth screen. For reasons best known to myself (ha), I decided to start with something I had done (sort of) in middle school art class instead (hey, we carved little 2"x2" stamps out of rubber), because the principle was more straightforward and I was more confident in myself not to screw it up. I watched the Dick Blick videos (yeah, I know) here and here and decided that I could handle a process that was more or less making a giant stamp.

There were a few things I did not bargain on; one is that it's much harder to transfer an image exactly with linocut, because you are drawing it twice, more or less -- once with pen on the block, and once with the lino cutter as you chisel out the unwanted pieces. I also found that it's sort of a bad idea to draw the image on a different piece of paper, because the level and type of detail one gets with a pencil are not the same as the equivalent with the cutter. At some point I will probably learn to screenprint as well, in no small part because I also didn't figure on this:
This is a linoleum cutter, sketched very handily with my new tablet (heh, I'm learning new artsy things all over.) What it also represents is a tool that will make you lose feeling in your hands if used excessively, which I most certainly did in the first few days of experimentation. Screenprinting, I think, is less likely to cause muscle strain. The little cheap Blick-brand cutter I bought for $7 came with five blades; so far I've use mainly the deep V cutter (enough that I ordered another box of them rather than risk the one I have getting too dull to use) and the deep U cutter. I also decided to use Blick blockprinting ink, the main attraction of which is its relatively low price. I think at some point I will switch to oil-based rather than water-based ink, because this ink dries extremely quickly (meaning that I waste a lot by the time I get it spread out), and smudges very easily if I try to add other paints or color on top of the print.


Here are some photos from my first print, which was sort of cute but in several ways was moderately disastrous. Note: Do not attempt to make a heavily detailed two-color print on the first go. It's just not a great idea.



One of Mom's old pan lids got commissioned into service as a linoleum shred catcher/inking plate. I bought a bench hook, but have not really used it a lot yet. This was the second color. . .


And here is me trying (somewhat hopelessly) to line up the second color with the first. It was a miracle it worked as well as it did, but it still came out . . . kind of goofy. This print series ended after about three.

Friday, October 7, 2011

recent doings and a few thoughts on Fontainebleau

Looking out the window of our room at the MIJE hostel in Paris.

So, first, things I've been doing since being home.

1. Cleaning.

I had composed a massive post to explain the flooding situation while I was in Kyoto, but I never got around to posting it. The short version is: Due to a series of stupid oversights and foolish mistakes by the Army Corps of Engineers, the Missouri River flooded massively this summer. My parents (and many of my friends) were expected to be under 2-4 feet of water; luckily, due to a somewhat dry summer and incomplete information, this did not turn out to be the case.

What did turn out to be the case was that my parents effectively moved out of their house and even out of the basement of the new clinic to avoid the (potential) nightmare of sifting through sludge again. They also pretty well surrounded the new clinic with a wall of sandbags.

Friday, December 31, 2010

new years' thoughts, I guess

Though not really related to the new year.

This site, which I cannot remember how I found, is pretty cool. Furniture!

I got a Nook for Christmas. Fffffffffffffubbbtth. This is the sound of the Nook sucking out my brains. It is AWESOME.

I want this book! Sadly, it is not on the Nook. And I refuse to pay $65 for a doorstopper, though it might be a doorstopper of epic design coolness. (For another peep inside the fun, here.)

What is up with this book, exactly? It looks cool. . . sorta. . . not sure.

In other news! I have been reading Tiger Beatdown for a while. It is a good blog! It is thoughtful! Funny! I think that Sadie/Sara Doyle is probably a genuinely nice person, and probably someone who would be great to be friends with! I have been watching the #mooreandme debacle (debacle because of the trolls, mainly) unfold from a distance from the beginning about two weeks ago. . . and it makes me so sad. Not because it isn't a good protest, but just that it takes so much effort and misery on the part of a few people just for a basic concession that rape allegations, even when against an Important Person! deserve to be taken seriously. Ugh. I get freaked out by one mean comment on the internet, so I can't imagine what it would be like to be inundated with demands that you, personally, go die (among other horrible things.) So I feel really bad that she basically had to make a giant target/punching bag out of herself to make a point.

In final news, the MIT admissions department does not believe that my recommendation letters have been submitted, EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE. Ugh. I am also trying to write some kind of coherent mess about how the Royal College of Art should really let me study Design Engineering there because, uh, I like international collaboration! Also I like technology and design TOGETHER. Yeah, I'm obviously still working.

In REALLY SERIOUSLY FINAL NEWS, there was a lot of crap under my keys that I dug out this morning.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

so I suck at blogging right now

as well as other things, like finishing my portfolio and getting to work at 1:30 instead of 1:45.

However, I have managed to spend loads of time on the internet (funny that), so here are my finds of late:

Awesome Scottish first names. (Fear me, O hypothetical children of mine.)

Wonderful, funny, beautiful food blog.

Christmas present for Mom.

This article is okay, but the link inside of it (which I can't get to work right now) to toddler altruism research videos is AWESOME.

This dog is the bomb, in all the positive figurative meanings of that phrase. Seriously.

The Bible. In over 50 languages. Fun!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

a happy or two

Book art I can appreciate. Maybe I will do this someday with the thousands o' books I plan on having.

Help from grandad. Side note: I love this website in general.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

HOLY CRAPOLA LAWS ALMIGHTY

There are TWO sequels to Into the Land of the Unicorns that I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT. HOLY CRAP.

Backstory, for those who do not understand how important this is: When I was 7 years old, I read Into the Land of the Unicorns by Bruce Coville and was totally enamored of it. I thought it was dead spectacular. I thought it was so dead spectacular, in fact, that I drew illustrations for it, wrote a letter to Bruce Coville, and mailed them off to him. (Side note: I remember those illustrations and they were. . . by a seven-year-old. Really obviously by a seven-year-old. Though I did carefully draw all the scales on the dragon with my markers. Even then I was obsessed with detail. [Maybe that was impressive?] I was also convinced that the unicorns had blue manes and tales, which I can't explain.)

Here's the thing: He wrote me back. The one and only author I have ever written to wrote me a personalized letter back thanking me for my illustrations and telling me more about his book. The letter was also not patronizing -- i.e. I recall finding it later and re-reading it and still being impressed. This response did not shake my utter love of the book (obviously) and I devoured every other book of his I could find with equal abandon. The second book, Song of the Wanderer, didn't come out until I was in high school, and I was delighted to find that it was quite as excellent as the first (and longer, which is a bonus in a good book.)

Sadly, I'm not sure that letter survived the flood. But it is a nice memory, and I can always get another copy of the book.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Madrid: Yes, I Love Thee

Struggling to think of blog post titles, obviously.

I have figured out a route -- a nice, well-populated, spacious, sunny route, for walking and bouncing. Shown above. It is about 5 miles (4.9-5, depending on detours), and I walked it three times this weekend.

Friday, September 10, 2010

incidentally

When I get home, I want to institute a book-a-week policy. I.e.: I will read one book every week.

Why. . .? Because I love to read. Because I always need more knowledge. And, cynically, because nothing sets me apart from my peers other than how much effort I make to be interesting.

Friday, April 30, 2010

geography

As I restart my computer again and again, hoping for a few minutes of activity from my daylight simulation software before my computer freezes it, I am reading pages from The Inheritance of Loss, by Kiran Desai. (Previously I have read A Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard by the same author. I am thinking of re-reading that book.) I shall have more to say about this book; there is a lot to say. It is a very good book.

But first, explanatory geography (or "finally deciding I would stop making mental approximations of locations in my head and just look at a damn map"):


If you know some basic geography, it's fairly easy to figure out that the book is set in northern India -- they can travel (relatively) easily to Kathmandu, see Mt. Everest in the distance in other locations, etc. Though I was familiar with the word "Darjeeling" (as in "Darjeeling tea") I did not realize that it was in West Bengal state; though the characters in The Namesake, by Jhumpa Lahiri, speak in Bengali, somehow I skipped finding out that it is one of the states next to Nepal.

I also marked Gujarat on the map because that is the origin of the judge in the book. I did know where Gujarat was, though, as we had to do a solar house design project set there for building technology lab.

Edit: A quick re-check of the beginning of the book informs me that it is actually set in Sikkim state, right above Bengal, and crammed between Nepal and Bhutan.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

book lust

I have of late (as in since Saturday) been channeling procrastination energy into reading. I was moderately horrified to realize that I have no less than 49 (I suppose now 48?) unread books of fiction on my bookshelf. At college. Not counting the ones at home. Apparently I have been retail therapying at Borders a bit more than I realized. . . 18 of these were acquired this school year.

In the last few days, I have finished How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro (now very curious to see the movie of the same name with Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson), and The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.

I would say the overall effect is to make me pleasantly mad with possibilities. . .


Tuesday, April 13, 2010

acentos. . .

Today I started reading How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents by Julia Alvarez.

The room next door to me in the communal student house I live in was never fully moved out of by its previous occupant, so my other neighbor/former roommate and I have been taking his stuff down to his new basement room over the past few days. He has a lot of stuff.

We both took a 'book tax,' if you will -- she borrowed his copy of Dexter and I borrowed this book. My Spanish teacher recommended it (after rolling her eyes and declaring The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao a "sensacionalista" representation of the Dominican Republic. Junot Diaz, who teaches at MIT, apparently responded to her telling him this by saying, "You throw your shit, I'll throw mine.")

So far I find it. . . interesting? Well-written and readable, certainly. But a great deal of the book is about the four sisters' relationships with various men, which is . . . not something I find myself particularly able to identify with. . .wrinkly face of wryness.

Monday, April 5, 2010

thoughts of the week

In all honesty, this week hasn't brought too many thoughts besides the following: "UNNNNNNNGGGGHGHH AARRRRRRGGGGHHHH PANIC" and "I'm tired. enh. Why am I so tired. . . ? The fact that I am tired worries me."

But. . .

But this weekend. . . yesterday and today I wore a skirt or shorts; it was 70 degrees Fahrenheit and pretty damn gorgeous. Life seems better, even though nothing has changed. (I also took an 8.8 mile walk yesterday, which was the turning point between "I feel miserable" to "gee, I feel pretty good.") I have already walked four or five miles today, and I am planning on going out again.

Now I smell like sweat. This should be horrible. I should be embarrassed. But I realized that I smell different in warm weather than in cold weather, and I have not smelled like warm-weather sweat for seven months. It is novel, in fact. [EDIT: I forgot this is what I smell like when I burn, even slightly. Ain't life bizarre?]

[Edit #2: Walked a total of 24 miles this weekend. Boo-yah me. The longest portion walked consecutively of that -- 9.3 miles -- is pictured above. . . man I love Boston.]

Thanks to my blog binge on swissmiss this weekend, I found a number of things to think about, which perhaps will follow in a different blog post.

But from the week, sort of:

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

tokyo jams


Home on spring break. It is delightful, a touch boring, a lot refreshing, and nerve-wracking, since I have, as usual, quite a bit of work to do.



This week I did something I had been planning for a while -- I gave myself some social insurance by crafting a "socially acceptable" list of bouncy music for my iPod, as well as a shorter, but still "acceptable" list of "that one mood music." (It's raining, or maybe the sun is shining, but you're quiet inside and wondering;) The creation of these lists makes life easier for me (after all, when I am in a contemplative mood I don't want to suffer the indignity of digging through my iPod album lists to find music that supports this frame of mind), but it also provided social insurance.

Re: The driving-back-to-Tokyo iPod debacle: Never again.

However, as I dug through the tracks I have accumulated, I realized I needed to gather together another group of songs -- the Tokyo music. I have an unfortunate tendency to completely annihilate a song when I first acquire it -- i.e. I listen to it on loop 20 times or so until I absolutely cannot stand to hear it any more. The upside is, the first time I discovered a piece of music has a definite time and place in my brain. Most of these songs surrender up crisp-centered, wavery-edged memories almost instantaneously, if not of a time and a place, of the feeling of being in Tokyo.

So: the list. Judge me not.

Monday, March 8, 2010

satisfying

I think it must be utterly unsatisfying to not be able to blame someone for natural phenomena that you do not appreciate or (at least profess to) understand.

Example. "God, I understand the initial source of cramping. But really? Is it really necessary to involve my lower back and digestive tract as well?" Then, crabbily, not directed at anyone in particular: God is clearly a man.

This is why I couldn't be an atheist.




I bought a book, because I have no self control.

Or rather, because when I walked by the poetry section I picked it up, because I had heard of the poet, and flipped to this page --

. . .
Still the atmosphere quivers
with the initial word
dressed up
in terror and sighing.
It emerged
from the darkness
and until now there is no thunder
that rumbles yet with all the iron
of that word,
the first
word uttered ---
perhaps it was only a ripple, a drop
and yet its great cataract falls and falls.
. . .

the same ---

. . .
Aún la atmósfera tiembla
con la primera palabra
elaborada
con pánico y gemido.
Salió
de las tinieblas
y hasta ahora no hay trueno
que truene a
ún con su ferretería
como aquella palabra,
la primera
palabra pronunciada:
tal vez s
ólo un susurro fue, una gota,
y cae y cae aún su catarata.
. . .

Pablo Neruda, "La Palabra"

I'm not sure how to keep my eyes from jumping to the English side of the page first.

In any case, I thought at the time it was brilliant, and whether it is or not, to understand a little bit of poetry would allay some quiet fears of mine. . .

Saturday, March 6, 2010

NYTimes strikes again

Darwin foes add warming to targets.

Er. . . all right, I guess.

I attribute the fact that I have no great religious conflicts about evolution to the following exchange, which occurred between me and my mother when I was about 5.

"Mommy! Where do dinosaurs fit in the Adam and Eve story? Is one of them not right?"

"No, dinosaurs and Adam and Eve are different. But they're both true. . . don't worry too much about it."

And I haven't.

As for global warming, I aggressively do not care. Saving energy? Sure, I care about saving energy. I'll go work on that. I DO NOT CARE ABOUT GREENHOUSE GASES, CARBON FOOTPRINTS, OR AL GORE. I'm just going to focus on saving energy. Leave me alone.

I know what compromise about teaching these issues in schools would make me happy. All the little kids would learn the scientific theory, and then the next day, we would talk about reasons why these theories are challenged by certain groups of people who aren't scientists. Reasons like, "They feel it challenges their religion, which is central to their way of understanding the world," and "They worry that it undermines the value of life." I think the sooner kids learn that things are not black-and-white, the better off they will be . . .

Another conversation, between myself and my talented-and-gifted teacher in fourth grade:

(me) "People who cut down rain forests are bad!"

(my teacher) "Not necessarily. . . sometimes they have no other options to make a living."

We all have reasons for how we act. . .



Reading The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov, for Literary Society. So far the most interesting character is Satan.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Friday, December 25, 2009

blog post about various things. Christmas.

so it is snowing great garbage bags of snow outside.

We missed the Christmas Eve service and the traditional Gochenour family reunion, delayed the Christmas meal with Grandma until Sunday, and in general have holed up.

The good side of this is that there's no way I can do the field research necessary for my thesis. Predictably enough, the bad side of this is ALSO that there's no way I can do the field research necessary for my thesis.

And now, a blog entry talking about various things.


I. Family Stuff.


This looks to be the best Christmas my family has had in a couple years, for various reasons. My brother is snowed in up north with his new wife, Reanna, and her family. The pink Carhartt coat he bought her did not, tragically enough, fit, so he is now searching for another present (hopefully another coat, but we'll see) that is equally suitable for the new wife of Farmer John.

Last night the power went out on the east half of town. The Dr. Gochenour family sat warm and comfy with our power on and our new generator in the old clinic, peaceably secure, and my mom promptly invited all our extended non-DNA-sharing family to stay overnight in case of a continued night without power -- i.e. Joanna, Bob, Baby Bobby, Chris (Joanna and Chris are my beloved babysitters of old and probably the best employees we have ever had at Willow Park Veterinary Clinic; Bob is Joanna's husband and Baby Bobby is her much-awaited, much-adored 10-month-old son), and Connie (whose dog Keesha was my godchild. Connie is now getting a new Corgie puppy soon. If you have known someone who lost a beloved dog, you will appreciate the joyful, almost painful sigh of relief that I heaved upon learning this information; and if you have not -- back in your cold little closet of heartlessness, you non-pet-loving cur.) The mental image of Baby Bobby, perhaps attired in his small puffy Santa suit, shivering in a dark house, proved far too much for my mother to stomach.

We hurtled around the house at high speed, trying to redistribute our possessions in such a way that would result in the least amount of small objects being gummed and swallowed by the Bobster. Mom produced two pans of enchiladas (yuck) and the yellow Dutch oven (a pot big enough to give a 3-month-old a bath in) full of minestrone (yum) in record time.

After an hour, the power came back on, and no one had to stay over after all. Mom and I were pretty deflated.


II. Books


I haven't read crap this term, due to the evils of STUDIO (more on that later. Maybe. This entry is looking unpleasantly long for what I had in mind.)

I read Olive Kittredge, by somebody Strout, on the plane home. It is apparently a Pulitzer Prize winner. It's a book of thirteen stories, set in a small town in Maine (which, other than easy access to the ocean, was remarkably like a small town in Iowa.) Each story is built up of tiny disappointments stretched out over years, and the seemingly even tinier joys that keep the residents of this small town going through these things. It was quite readable, though the Pulitzer designation is a bit mystifying.

Last night I stayed up late (ugh, mistake) to read Lullaby, by Chuck Palahniuk. He is certainly a talented writer with a gift for characterization, and that's about it for that book. It's doubtless deliberate that it is a mere 260 pages, because a lot more than that of trailing along behind a bunch of eminently hate-worthy characters who spout nauseating amounts of rhetoric formulated precisely to make the reader the optimum amount of irritated (uncomfortable through the entire book, but not quite enough to stop reading) would have resulted in an unfinished book landing in the Goodwill bag in Mom's trunk.

I just started The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini (I'm pretty far behind the reading curve.) 50 pages in, I'm looking forward to the rest of the book, and gritting my teeth in expectation of having my internal organs and emotions stewed about.

Books waiting for me (here at home -- there's a shelf of about 10 left at school): The Will of the Empress, a good old fantasy from Tamora Pierce, The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver, of which I hear many good things, My Life in France, by Julia Child -- it's about France, cooking, and Julia Child; what's not to like? -- Stardust, by Neil Gaiman, which I expect to be charming, A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway, which I expect will not be. I have high hopes of getting through three or four more before heading back to school. We'll see if I fritter my time on Facebook and the Internet or spend it more wisely.


III. Food


I haven't been baking lately, although I have been gaining weight. Baking has temporarily lost its charm for me -- i.e. it does not seem to have the power to produce a sufficient amount of joy in random recipients to merit the effort.

But things that are tasty:
1. Apple tarts. Pie crust in muffin tins with apples cooked with some butter and brown sugar in the center.
2. STUFFING. homemade. out of the kraft box. out of the freezer meal. I LOVE STUFFING.
3. Roast potatoes. Chop, roll in olive oil, spread on pan, sprinkle with thyme and sage: Easy college happiness.
4. Potato soup, from a dried mix that has large amounts of potatoes, a sweet potato, and an onion added to it.
5. Fried onion. With soy sauce. Sounds disgusting, but man, it's tasty.
6. Pasta sauce made with canned tomatoes from the parents' garden, hamburger, onion, olive oil, basil, and mixed Italian herbs.

Things that are not tasty:

1. Dried Korean seaweed that I don't know how to cook in a bag for 100 people.
2. Red bean mochi. I'm sorry, everyone.


IV. Design & Thesis


In short, studio sucked big time. I am not going to be an architect. Because if I'm going to slave that incessantly over something, I want it to be something I care about a whole hell of a lot more.

I only pray I'm not going to be fined for the red ink I spilled on my desk in the new mezzanine.

But design.

I am collecting a lot of design-y sites on the internets, and I have designed two theater production posters (well three, but the third was a dud for unmentionable reasons) so far this year. I am working on improving my wheelthrowing skills, but currently my technique is not good enough to worry much about the careful design of the form, and I don't know enough about glazing to have much control of that, either.

Thesis. My thesis is about a) how typical daylighting has changed in Harrison County Church sanctuaries over the last century b) why and c) how this affects the quantity of, quality of, and attitude toward the light in the church.

We'll see about that. . . .


V. Ideas


I am carefully plotting my Independent Activities Period during January to optimize my research done, my number of books read, my Spanish learned, and my pottery produced. My roommate and I have hopes for a couple trips.

For next year: I am not applying to grad school yet. I am not ready. By a long shot. I have currently applied to the MISTI Japan internship program, the MISTI Spain internship program, and the one-year LEX internship program in Tokyo. And I continue to rustle around. . .



The Christmas music is blaring, and my dear mother is shouting into the computer as she plays Scrabble through Skype with Auntie Barb. I'm off to either thaw the turkey or resume (with trepidation) The Kite Runner.