make/post/see

Tonight, I want to share a quote with you.

“Make something small every day and post it to the internet. Do it for at least half a decade. See what happens.”

—Austin Kleon

I am going to make more poems.

And figure out a way to be more visual.

What are you going to make?

red etcetera

Today I want to tell you that I’m trying not to slip into blogging atrophy again.

I am trying to keep writing, writing, writing, as I also continue trying to figure out where I should take this blog. At any rate, I wanted to use a spare 20 minutes to write a post, I couldn’t figure out what to write, and I asked for a blogging topic.

This was the first thing I got:

“When is red TOO red for lipstick?”

My answer is that red is almost always too red for lipstick. At least it is for me. I find red lipstick fades, feathers and causes flaking more than any other lipstick color. I’ve tried the stains, the long wearing formulas, the moisturizing top layers, the blotting powders, etc, etc, etc. Nothing works.

I think red just isn’t meant to be worn as lipstick for more than about 10 minutes.

Although, saying this will not prevent me from continuing to search for a magical formula that will make me feel Old Hollywood glamorous. 

old school

As much as I was

surprised to hear one

rap song after another

in a suburban coffeehouse

(okay, it was a Starbucks)

I was more puzzled by

the old men reading

their newspapers

at the communal table

and the club chairs

by the windows

unbothered by the

not-of-their-youth

music

I couldn’t help

but wonder if they

had a narrowed ability

to perceive sound

even as I was hoping

at least one of them

was imagining youth

spent differently

in a bigger city

or if another knew

all the lyrics by heart

streaming songs on

an iPod, the one his wife

doesn’t know he has

six for spring

Today I want to play a few songs for you that I’ve been enjoying lately.

oct panel questions

Today I want to share a couple of questions that were asked during Oregon Children Theatre’s panel discussion with author Lois Lowry, playwright Eric Coble and artistic director Stan Foote.

1. Would you prefer writing a play, which allows you to write with fewer details and gives others (e.g., the director, set designer, etc.) the ability to figure how to bring your words to life; or writing a book, which puts more control and responsibility in your hands when it comes to describing a story’s setting, people and actions?

2. Would you rather live in a perfectly structured society where both artists and soldiers don’t exist (like the society in The Giver), or one that’s more chaotic—and often brutal—where people are free to express themselves with art and emotions (like the one in Gathering Blue)?

I will be posting my own answers later today.

And here they are.

1. Working on videos has given me an appreciation for collaborative storytelling, so I would prefer to be a playwright than an author. I would still love to be involved with some of the creative direction (I love art direction and wardrobe), but I prefer it when a director plans out the sequence of events and actions. It frees me to focus on word choice, which I also love.

2. As much as I love art in my life, the peace, order, and overall futuristic feeling of The Giver appeals to me more than the rougher, dirtier world of Gathering Blue. (FYI: when the panel was asked this question, Lowry and Foote preferred GB and Coble preferred TG).

architectural appreciation

Today I want to tell you that I never want to waste good architecture.

Last weekend, @MissConsiderate and I toured six Portland homes designed by Saul Zaik, including his own. I first became aware of Zaik’s work during a Street of Eames tour a few years ago, and I immediately became a fan.

I like the way he showcases natural materials and light in his designs. I like the angles of the windows and rooflines. I like that the designs feel completely modern, yet never cold. And while many of his plans feel open, I like that smaller, cozy spaces are also incorporated (e.g., multiple small or narrow decks, and reading or sitting alcoves).

My only compliant about Saturday’s tour has nothing to do with Zaik.

It has to do with people not appreciating what they have.

I was surprised that half the homes on the tour featured dirty windows and dusty exposed beams. You’d think the organization that ran the tour would have ensured the best architectural features looked as great as possible, and that the homeowners would want that, too.

These same homes were also decorated in a way that detracted from the architecture. Don’t misunderstand. I am not a fan of being matchy-matchy with architecture and interior design; a house is not meant to be a glossy catalog spread. But too many knick-knacks and junky furniture just look wrong set in a modernist space. (Sidebar: seeing dirty shirts draped over a laundry sink during a tour is also a bit strange.)

I may never live somewhere as architecturally interesting as a Zaik house, whether it’s part of a tour or not, but if I did, I’d want to care for it in a way that let me fully enjoy it.

in the cut

Today I want to tell you (and show you) that editing is powerful.

I enjoy editing stories or content down to their essence. That wasn’t always the case, but working with a talented editor helped me see the inherent magic of the revision process. For me, it’s always easier to cut copy than add copy, too.

With the continual rise of social media and the (unfortunate and likely related) decrease of attention spans, I think an appreciation for editing is now more important for anyone telling stories through advertising.

Why does a :60 version of a spot always have to be better than the :30 version? The shorter spot can be more powerful and pique more interest if the story is thoughtfully edited. 

Consider the fairly recent Audi prom commercial. The shorter version makes it clear that the setup in the longer version is unnecessary and it interferes with the mystery and excitement that builds toward the story’s climax. Unfortunately, Audi or its agency doesn’t seem to agree, because only the :60 spot is posted online.

Sigh.

Of course, great editing doesn’t necessarily mean making a story shorter. You can create different versions of a story, and even if each one is pretty much the same length, the mood and impact can change depending on what you choose to leave in and take out.

See what I mean by looking at the following two trailers for the movie Populaire. The first is for the original version, the second is for the subtitled US version. If language wasn’t an issue, which one would make you more inclined to see the movie?

anxiety

Each leaf, illuminated by
the late evening sun,
is disturbed by the breeze,
knows nothing of how long
this will go on or if
the air will break it away
from summer
before it really begins
as if the season never
existed in the first place

futuristic collaboration

Today, I want to tell you about pinning down the future.

If you’re following me on Pinterest, you may have been a little surprised by some of my recent pins. One friend was even worried about what I was planning to do to my hair. But no, I was not pinning radical makeup, clothing and hair for myself. I was collaborating with a wardrobe stylist and hair and makeup stylist for a shoot.

The scene needed to take place in the future, but since we didn’t have a time machine, we had to imagine how people might look in the future.

Our imaginations had a starting point, considering what literature and film have conjectured about the future gave us a starting point, as did the fundamental idea that a decade or two in the future will be different.

It was tons of fun to collect inspiration and see it take shape during the shoot last Friday. I hope to post the results when the video is finished later this month. Stay tuned (to infinity and beyond).

icebergs

Today I want to remind you that no one, regardless of religious or ideological beliefs, has it all figured out.

All of us still have a lot to learn and a lot of assumptions we need to recognize and dismantle.

For me, one of these is the idea of grace, which I’m starting to think is an even bigger proposition than I was taught.

Grace just might be so radical that we still haven’t fully grasped its power to transform and liberate our lives.

We still rely so much on the structure of rules and guidelines for comfort and control, that true liberty can be frightening in one way or another.

And when I say we, I’m not just talking about people who are part of spiritual communities.

It seems to me that most of the time we don’t know what to do with the freedoms we have, and we caveat it or needlessly construct fences to feel safe.

In fact, even now I feel pulled to caveat these sentences, but I’m not going to. I just want us to sit with it for awhile.

Also, I’ve been meaning to share the link for Dannika Nash’s awesome post, An Open Letter to the Church from My Generation. She’s only in college now, so I have a feeling she’s just getting warmed up and will have many more thought-provoking things to say.

lierre studio 2.1

Today I want to tell you that I’m relieved to have a revised website.

Several few months ago, I posted about wanting to change my site, and now I finally have.

It’s a much more clean and simple site, from both a visual and a usability perspective. That’s largely due to Theme Penguin’s Flow theme, which provided a filterable portfolio experience, and Webfire Themes, which stepped in to create popovers (yea!) when Theme Penguin neglected to respond with a quote for modifications (boo!)*.

My work is now arranged by discipline and project. Thumbnails for all the projects in my portfolio are viewable on a single page and can be filtered by discipline. And with a single click, you can view all the work associated with the project. To do that, I created reels for each project, which in some cases combine video, audio and images. I may still refine the look of those reels, but in general, I’m happy with them.

In fact, I’m so much happier with the entire site. It feels much more sophisticated to me, and yet, still has an element of fun (hello, pops of hot pink and orange!).

Check it out, and feel free to share if you think there’s someone who should see the kind of work I do. :)

* Here’s what happened. Theme Penguin has a form users can submit requesting a quote for modifications to an existing theme. I filled out the form and was notified I’d have a response in two business days. A week later, I still didn’t have one. I sent a follow-up request, but didn’t get a response to that one either. So I found Webfire, which offered modification services for its themes OR any others, received a response within a single business day, and a week later had what I wanted for a reasonable price. FYI: a month later, I still haven’t heard from Theme Penguin.

mortimer is watching

Today I also want to show you something.

Off-and-on for the past six months, one of my coworkers has been having fun moving Mortimer the Raven around my office. Here was this morning’s amusing surprise.

P.S. In case you missed it, Mortimer made a NaPoWriMo appearance.

P.S.S. He is named after the raven in Joan Aiken’s hilarious children’s series.  

review like a grown-up

Today I want to tell you that, as tempting as it may be, peer reviews should not be the first place we air grievances.

A couple of years ago, I got into the habit of asking myself a question when filling out the “areas for improvement” section of peer reviews.

“Have I talked about this issue with [the person] yet?”

If the answer was no, then I left it out of the review.

I just don’t think it’s mature, fair or constructive to anonymously comment on someone’s weaknesses in a review if I haven’t discussed them with the person herself.

Yes, that can be a difficult thing to do. And yes, sometimes people will get defensive or figuratively flip you the bird for speaking up about a concern. Yet the alternative is potentially blindsiding people in their reviews and fostering a culture of distrust among coworkers.

Maybe some people enjoy that sort of thing, but I don’t.

I’d rather get my drama from seeing, hearing or tasting something breathtaking rather than cliché office intrigue.

And that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Well, I will say one more thing. This post is not in response to any reviews I’ve received. 

last month's lessons

Today I also want to tell you another two things I learned participating in NaPoWriMo 2013.

1. There’s nothing like an intense, short-term goal to kick one’s butt back into gear. It had been a while since writing poetry was a regular part of my life, but participating in a 30 poems in 30 days exercise was just the challenge I needed to rediscover how much I love writing poetry and how natural and right it feels. My senses were jolted back into experiencing the world poetically, too—returning me to a place where I can more easily gather inspiration for writing.

2. Even with an intense, short-term goal, flexibility and forgiveness are necessary. Life will find a way of testing anyone’s commitment to achieving a goal, and sometimes you have to yield to its detours. Some days I just couldn’t write a poem or revise and post one I had written. Other days, I was flooded by ideas. Once I relaxed about not literally writing and posting a poem every day (or posting multiple poems a day), the ultimate goal was easier to approach and ultimately reach.

Sidebar: I was surprised when a poet I’d connected with on Twitter reprimanded participants for not posting every day. I immediately thought of all the tragedies in our world lately, and wondered how many people were waylaid from the NaPoWriMo exercises by life’s more cruel moments. I responded as such to the taskmaster (although not unkindly). He didn’t respond and unfollowed me. Sigh. 

the poet returns

Today I want to tell you that for me, it’s always been about poetry.

A major lesson I learned from NaPoWriMo 2013 was just how important poetry is to me, and that it’s detrimental for me to neglect the poet part of myself.

This doesn’t mean I need to (or want to) literally write poems all the live-long-day. But continuing to write poetry and to make it a part of my life, helps me communicate with a distinctive cadence and clarity that I’ve learned serves me—and the people I care about and work with—well. It also gives me a balancing, roots-and-wings perspective that I need to most enjoy living.

It’s been that way since I was a little girl, writing poetry about falling leaves and haiku about fireflies. 

I still have those poems.

And I now I know that poet still lives in me.

untold story

Laughter bubbles up

releasing the fizzy fog

in her guarded mind

Again, she questions

the weight of a simple gift,

magic or mundane

Are they friendly words

or a potion concocted

to set her world on fire?

"as long as I can fall"

Today I want to tell you that I will be posting my final 2013 NaPoWriMo entry tonight, but until then I want you to listen to a little something that’s lovely and poetic. 

mixed up gratitude

Today’s assignment was to include five foreign words in our poems. And I did, but I want to do something more, something much different than what I’m posting. I will come back to this exercise someday. For now, I will post my evidence—of completing the exercise and of the fact that I still miss last summer.

Tuesday was never Belgium

We said danke stepping off the train in Florence

Grazie and prego in a line at Disneyland Paris

I admit to thinking takk fyrir once in 

the Tuileries, too, but the waiter already 

thought I was French

It’s possible we said merci while milling around

the Keflvavik International Airport, but by then 

we wanted to say more 

than thank you 

in any tongue, 

right or wrong

color prompt: poem 1

unnamed favorite

They have called you

fuschia and magenta

once a shopkeeper

identified you as grape

but I think I’d have to

travel to Wonderland

or Candyland or a

psychedelic soiree

to see a varietal

in your hue

Once I bought a shell

for my summer wardrobe

with your shade labeled

as bubblicious, but to me

you don’t carry around

enough canopy bed pink

(suburbia, circa 1981)

You are in my closet,

sometimes on my toes

and perhaps someday

you’ll rest in my

jewelry box, a treat

for one of my fingers

If I kept orchids

I would see you on

my tables or ledges, too

they would be the

closest approximation

of a name I’ve heard

for your kind of purple,

too quirky to be royalty

too particular to be

a five-year-old girl’s

imaginary friend

color prompt: poem 2

CMYK

A primary palette tossed in the 1980’s neon spin cycle,

with a laquered box once owned by Nagel (although

we’d like to think that Warhol had a hand in it)

We sought you out for decades, adjusting your values

as needed on all the world’s cereal boxes, magazines,

brochures for athletic shoes, sofas and sports cars

Technology made our collaborations easier until

one day it didn’t, kissed by a spidery woman who put

a hex on humanity’s sight, starting with the young

It’s a spell you will never break, your gold dwindling,

slowly disappearing as we, the last practioners of print,

watch your fading rainbow, through inky eyes

whiteout

Today’s NaPoWriMo assignment was to write an erasure poem.

Mine was created from a Tess Gallagher poem.

molecular level

Photograph by Stephen Bernal // Haiku by Jeanne Ivy

living addiction

By age 9, 10 or 11

we begin seeking out

the hidden places

slightly beyond

our homes

We leave our bikes

on the muddy patch

by the side of the road

Not-so-carefully,

we climb down

a forest hill to watch

water skimmers

alight on a small pond,

follow a trickling stream

to a footpath bordered

by ferns and plants

we haven’t met before,

cross a footbridge

our parents have

never walked on

(or knew existed),

stop at the wide bank

of another pond

where two boys

unknown to us

capture crawdads

just like other kids

had been doing

for years

So hungry to explore

as if the daily discoveries

of being alive

were already

not enough

may day

Pieces of lint on the carpet

a layer of dust on the toilet tank,

the dresser, the tray piled with

bangles on the coffee table

Art may not pay attention,

but I do

Is this exercise fueling me

to live again, to do more than

merely notice my surroundings,

briefly ignoring a little screen

When it’s over, may I

feel free to keep the rhythm,

to dance and read and scribble

like I am once again

clean

max & mother

Dirt and stone explode

So we may move at top speed

Malignant earthworm

have a cookie

Remember, the future unwinds toward the past

Love, success and breakfast are also in the eye of the beholder

Your lucky numbers are 2, 16, 72 and blue

Don’t argue with a poet who defines colors by number

Please refrain from naming a venture Angel Belly

You will prosper with a different name

Results not typical or guaranteed

Some day you will need to spell asterisk

Happy is he who daily cleans out his inbox

Alluding to technology alludes to a lack of ideas

Talk is cheap, but chaos on a plate is cheaper

For the self-important, this fortune will self-destruct

poem 20: high-low

curl truffle on fries

squander French cheese on white bread

brilliant dunderhead

This haiku was written following the day 20 NaPoWriMo prompt, which asked participants to choose at least five words from a given list. The five I chose are: curl, truffle, squander, cheese and dunderhead.

poem 19: unprompted find

Flipping

through my

Moleskine

I keep finding

what seems

to be a poem

but is just

a note from

the last time

we met

I paraphrased

the casual

insight

you offered

about my

haiku idea

that could

become ours

Something

just off

enough about

it to make

people pay

attention, but

not so much

that it’s

distracting

nevermore

Why are there so many poems about ravens?

Raven leans against a

benign fabric cube-panel

He has a smile in his eye

despite the beak where

paint has faded and flaked

and the faux feathers are

loosening, some already

have fallen away during

a co-worker’s series of

pranks during Halloween

Oh Mortimer! I think

I am so sorry you are

Not as you were, and that

I ripped you off of that

tacky wreath my mother

gave me, leaving you

unable to stand easily on

the bent staples in your

feet, and somehow too

sweet to be a punk raven

hello

A sigh, shoulders shrugging

Eyelids fall and a gush of breath

sails inward and back out

When my sight returns to the world

you are there, one I denied

since the cruel snap of winter

Your indulgent gaze won’t listen

to my whimpering patience

to my panting compromises

I welcome you back again

As if you could ever go away

My dream, yet to be real

fyrirgefðu

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was a lot of peculiar fun. Find a foreign poem here, and attempt to translate it without looking up the English translation just based on the sound and form of the words. Of course, I couldn’t make the assignment any easier, so I picked a language I like but was flummoxed by when I tried to learn it. Yes, I chose an Icelandic poem, and here’s my attempt at taking poetic license with it.

ATELIER DARLING

Cold inn by me

higher cove

faerie swallow

the jewelry drifts

and harbors me

sojourner,

view a fogging

Ah, legal irony

pressed in some

iPhone ad

he yawns hooray

if I give a key

and freeze fast

Ice and slippery anger

Laundromat

Upbraided bouncing

Naïve with ammo

I held over

And here is the original by Gerður Kristný:

ÆTTJARÐARLJÓÐ

Kuldinn býr mér

híði úr kvíða

færir svæfil úr

dúnmjúkri drífu

undir höfuð mér

snjóbreiðan

voð að vefja um sig

Ég legði eyrun við

brestum í ísnum

í von um að

heyra hann hörfa

ef ég vissi ekki

að ég frysi föst

Ísinn sleppir engum

Landið mitt

útbreidd banasæng

nafn mitt saumað

í hélað ver

into hibernation

day 15, a pantun

Soil smells of clouds about to burst

The dogwood predicts a rainbow

Rowdy boys await school bells first

While girls pretend they never know

Professors shed tweed and skip town

Greeks host one more killer party

The sun forgets its dressing gown

Snapdragons are finally hardy

Red leaves curl as is their fashion

The air becomes crisp with apples

Paychecks are the driving passion

Still-young pairs prepare for chapels

Shrill cries erupt before the dawn

Or Labradors paw sliding doors

Ice paints patterns upon the lawn

Sleep freezes forests and the shores

poetry lesson

She wrote an ode

to Nancy Drew

each line casting

doubt on everyday

people and objects

yet her word choice
and her line breaks

were as tidy and sharp

as the teenage sleuth’s

inevitable conclusions

Our paths never met

after that poetry class

but I asked her for

a copy, keep it still

as one reminder that

greatness is everywhere

so I keep striving to be

not Plath or Kerouac

but as a 20-year-old

Ms. MacAuley

walk/run/think

Setting out on a

tree lined sidewalk

a third of a mile

of warm-up with an

indie Australian singing

only to me until

he is interrupted by

telltale tabata chimes

They do not sound

like the bells of Zen

but of the future

that some imagine

to be structured by

timed electronic signals

given firmly by an

elite establishment

Required exercise and

injecting salads, apples

and lean proteins with

addictive qualities

is all well and good

except those enforcing

health soon desire

to mandate more

This is the deepest fear

of certain sci-fi writers

and Libertarian lecturers

who don’t believe in

being controlled,

their convictions only

slightly softened by

falling in love

#napowrimo catch-up: day 12

This one did not follow the “official” prompt. It was just something I wanted to write.

lovely essentials

Each time I’ve visited

the Tate Modern

(a grand total of twice)

I’ve encountered the

curiosity of Damien Hirst.

His artwork a challenge

to look not upon the

pharmacy shelves as

mere medicinal storage

but as architecture,

color and shape

made beautiful if

you dare to notice it.

This is what I notice

in April’s participants

an ability to write as

I’ve always wanted to

but have achieved

only twice, maybe

three times yet.

Simple, ordinary things

lit up with elegance

stray thoughts turned

mystical, important,

reverent even, through

an elixir of cadence

reminding you of

being read to by

a favorite teacher

in elementary school.