No clouds

The snows they melt the soonest when the winds begin to sing
and the swallow flies without a thought as long as it is spring...

Not a cloud in the sky this morning.

Got out the needlenose pliers this morning

Today I exercised my jewelry-making supplies and skills and collaborated with my arty friend Ben Marlan to make these necklace pendants. Actually, he did 98% of the work because those are his beautiful little paintings. I did the silver part. These will be available at either The Kitschen Sink or the Aurora Arts and Design Center very soon. More of them are in the works.

(pardon the blurry photo...have yet to figure out how to take close-ups of small objects with my camera)

DO try this at home

I usually don't run the sort of blog that gives you recipes to read, but I'm going to share this one with you, loyal readers. Given my recent expedition to Thailand, and subsequent devouring of delicious food I did there, I've been trying to create some of that at home. A few trips to the Asian grocery store for exotic spices and obscure-to-the-western-world sauces, and a couple of recipes from my friend Debra, and I'm a little closer to the truth.

Gai Pad King (chicken stir-fried with ginger)

10 oz chicken breasts, cut small
4 tbsp oil
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1 small onion, sliced
2 oz ginger, shredded (I used about a 3 inch piece of ginger root)
2 big red chilies, sliced (I used some high-test Sriracha garlic-chili sauce instead because the chili which I had on hand has actually gone all mushy)
1/2 cup chicken stock or water
2 oz green onions (scallions), cut into 1 inch pieces

2 tbsp fish sauce
3 tbsp oyster sauce
2 tbsp light soy sauce

Heat the oil, and fry the garlic until it's browned. Add onion and chicken, and stir-fry until the outside of the chicken turns white. Add ginger and stir-fry to combine. Add sauce ingredients and stir-fry again. Add chilis and chicken stock and stir-fry for 1 minute. Add green onions and stir-fry to combine. At this point your neighbors will start appearing and asking if there's enough for them too because it smells REALLY good.

This was quick and easy and very good. It helped to slice and chop all the ingredients early because the actual cooking time is fast. I did not have any green onions, so I threw in a handful of greens and the end of a huge sweet red pepper which was lingering in the fridge. Vegetarians could probably make this with tofu and/or mushrooms, but I really don't know enough about fish and oyster sauce to tell you what to substitute for them.

A lovely quiet night at home tonight, with leftovers of the above to be eaten by the woodstove, and "Three Cups of Tea" to start reading. We change the clocks tonight too, my favorite night of the year...the longer days are starting and nothing could make me happier.

Watercolor sketches

I am STILL dealing with post-journey details, such as scanning some pages from my little travel sketchbook and posting them here. Here are two scenes from Thailand. The top one was seeds I found along the trail, and I was pleased with how the stream turned out in the lower sketch. Watercolor is funny, sometimes you mix colors and then they flow and settle out in unexpected and cool ways all on their own.

Paperwork and cleaning day today. Sales tax is due shortly, and last year I missed the deadline by ONE DAY and suddenly owed a bunch of money. Not gonna let that happen again.

Ink

Took a field trip to Syracuse a few days ago with my arty pals Gary and Ben, ostensibly to get some clay and glaze supplies and visit a gallery, but mainly I think to have an excuse to eat giant plates of food at the Dinosaur BBQ. Ben gave me a temporary Sharpie anchor tattoo so I'd fit in with the biker crowd. You can read more on Gary's blog (and I lifted the photo from there too).

A rebuttal

You never know what Google might turn up. Last night an online discussion was brought to my attention that asks the question "Why is every piece of so-called art "created" by Christi Sobel an uninspired unoriginal cliche cartoon?" You can read all about it here if the link still works. It's an interesting experience to find yourself and your work being discussed in a third-party sort of way.

My first thought was actually to be flattered. That sufficient people have seen my work and thought about it enough for someone to have developed a strong negative opinion is a perverse sort of praise. I don't mind critique, a bold dissenting voice can point out flaws that can be improved and push us to move forward and grow. I also appreciate the fact that not everyone is going to like my paintings, and that's totally fine...I don't like every piece of art I see either. Just to be clear, I'm not offended that my work is not to everyone's taste.

A point I can take from Glenda is that yes, I would like to spend more time developing my painting and growing in that direction. I'd like nothing better. Life gets in the way though, things like making enough money to eat and live and buy the occasional plane ticket is pretty important. Of course I'd rather paint than spend my time making bookmarks, but it's sure better and more true than taking on some job I don't care about just to make income (my housecleaning and waitressing days are a thing of the past). I wish I had the luxury to just paint. This is a constant and central struggle I have...and every graphic design job I take I am thankful for because it pays the rent, but it takes time away from growing my art. I sometimes feel stagnant in my growth as an artist because of the time-and-income issue. If you have any suggestions on how to find that balance I'd love to hear them.

However, I have a few replies for Josh and Glenda and company and their condescending armchair-observer comments regarding my work and how I choose to run my business. I am dedicated to being an artist, for me that means I support myself 100% with my creative output one way or another. I honor and prioritize and allow free reign to my creativity, and am insulted to be told that my potential is limited, my visions are shallow, and that I'm not a True Artist because part of what I do is sell my work as reproductions via my website. I have always disliked having my art referred to as "cute" (although I personally don't mind being thought of as youthful). It is also an insult to be told that I am not a professional but merely a "nice young woman who is making an honest go of it." I love giving the world accessible art, and hear positive comments every day how it speaks to people. Right now I love painting with shocking blue. I am also proud of my skills as a scientific illustrator, and feel that since I have learned how to paint realistically I can now choose to avoid realism when I wish to.

I don't really need to spend the energy defending myself any further. To counterpoint the negative juju, tonight I walked into the Chapter House to meet up with some arty friends before gallery night, and the man behind the bar greeted me with, "oh hey, my wife and I love your work! We just moved and and finally have a chance to put all of the paintings we have of yours up on the walls..."

In which I use a geeky Photoshop color space metaphor

Huh, awake before 7 AM again today. Will this trend last past the initial jetlag phase? It looks like someone converted the world to greyscale and clicked the "discard color information?" button here in Ithaca. I unpacked my Thai treasures over the weekend, and the beautiful crazy quilt embroidered blanket I brought home looks like a tropical bird, a welcome splash of RGB in my living room.

A nice XC ski expedition helped restore some energy yesterday. Otherwise, I'm slowly reintegrating into society and jumping right back into several graphic design projects. Here are the icons I designed for ISDSI's classes.

Everyone's gonna want one

Got some stickers, the kind you can put on water bottles, car bumpers, bike helmets, your neighbor's dog. They were printed in Thailand, which makes them even more cool. I'll be putting these in web and etsy and mail orders, and generally giving them away like candy. Want one?

Internal compass

I can't really imagine more of a contrast than where I am right now compared to where I was on Monday. Back home, jetlagged and sick, just shoveled out about 20 inches of snow (with drifts up to my shoulders) and not really sure what day or time it is. My internal compass is all out of line. Definitely not in the tropics anymore, that's for sure.

Was a long trip home. I lost my voice to laryngitis right before leaving. That made me silent when it came to being able to ask questions about which line to be in, but not silent in terms of coughing and sniffling and generally making myself unpopular with my airplane neighbors. Long overnight wait in Bangkok, super long lines, extra security measures (my carry-on was hand searched twice), no time to get snacks because of the long lines, what euphemistically used to be referred to as "female complaints," a ticklish cough, and one last delayed flight at the end. All around a 39 hour transition from one side of the world to the other. Of course, it's downright miraculous to be able to travel that far in such a short time, but still very hard on the body.

The sketchbook class I was going to teach in Philadelphia was postponed due to a pending storm, so I scooted out to Ithaca just before it hit. It's good to be home, but hard to get my mind around the culture and weather change, and I will not be fit company for a few days.

Here's one last photo from Thailand, taken on my last Sunday evening Walking Street adventure. This is Wat Chedi Luang, under the moon, right in the middle of the old city. It was historically the tallest chedi in Thailand before an earthquake (I think) took down the top part.

In praise of pad see eu

Pad see eu, gai pad king, larb, tom kha gai....

There's is SO MUCH good food in Thailand, as you can imagine, and it is everywhere. Any time of day or night, there are vendors lining the street selling everything from squid-on-a-stick to sticky rice to fresh smoothies to young coconuts. One of the first words I learned here was khanom (kan-OHM), Thai for "snack." I definitely understand khanom culture, since I definitely thrive on frequent snacks, especially when they are savory little treats like this. And especially when most street or small restaurant meals cost about 25 bhat, which is approximately 80 cents. Four of us can order enough amazing food to stuff ourselves silly for under $6. It will be hard to go back to my home country where a good Thai meal costs upwards of $20 for one person.

Also, Thailand is definitely like a little taste of heaven regarding my gluten-free diet, you can imagine how awesome it is for me to be able to eat everything on the menu because 98% of the food here is based on rice.

One of my new favorites is pad see eu, a dish made of wide rice noodles, stir-fried with greens and eggs and (optional) chicken, in a not-very-spicy sauce. I found a noodle stand on the street in the old city, and here is my pad see eu dinner being made:



Are you hungry yet? And here's a story to make my sister laugh (hi Tammy, I know you're reading!). Earlier this week I was eating some tasty leftovers, a spicy green papaya salad, and I chomped right into a very hot green pepper doing a very good green bean impression...my mouth hurt for an hour!

Thinking about markets

It's not every day that you can say this: I was very close to the Burma border yesterday. It was eerie, knowing all the bad news going on over there. I took a field trip with the director of ECHO's Asia office to their field station in Fang. It was a beautiful drive through mountains and the villages were amazing.

Since I am a farmer's market vendor at home, I love going to the markets here. There are stores and small storefronts everywhere, but most people seem to get their food and veggies from either street markets or more established roofed concrete structure markets. (Note to self: need to make a separate entry about the glories of real Thai food.) I particularly like the Sunday evening "Walking Street," where a long street in the center of the old city is blocked off to traffic and people bring their art and crafts to sell...I've been going every week and have felt a certain kinship with the people selling their art, of course. This past weekend was Chinese New Year, so there was extra street market action happening downtown. I continue to gleefully support the local economy.

By the way, to follow up on the monkeys--over-the-back-fence discussion previously entered, I found out that the sounds I've been hearing are actually a bird. Sorry!

Evening commute

I had one of those moments a few days ago where I suddenly felt very happy, and very comfortable with Thailand. I had left my desk at ISDSI around 4:00 after a full day of drawing, and walked down the Superhighway to the Mae Rim road, turned right and continued walking to one of the markets, dodging around parked motorcycles and snack stands and avoiding traffic (it's a busy road). Stopped into a stationery store for new Micron pens since I am wearing out the ones I brought from home. At the market I bought cashews, peanuts, pumpkin cooked with coconut milk (so good), fresh corn, and underwear. It was now 5:00, and rush hour traffic had hit. I flagged down a yellow bus with the subtle palm-down fluttering Thai bus-stopping gesture I've been working on, which pulled over for me. The bus was completely full of two young orange-robed monks and several women. Monks are not supposed to touch women, so there was a wide space around them. It is also not "reap roi" (proper) for women to just hang on to the platform outside the back of the bus (which is what I REALLY want to do, it looks fun). If there were any non-monk men in the bus, they would have offered me their seat and hung on outside, but as it was there was no room on the benches for me. So everyone smiled and passed a little plastic stool back to me, and I sat in the aisle, looking backwards out the open back of the bus. Right then, I felt great. I had successfully navigated the social implications of this situation, and I felt sudden great love for the scene I was seeing from my perch...all the people and motorcycles and traffic and little street stalls and signs written in a language I couldn't read.