February 2008 Archives

Michiel has been fretting for ever about how to put up our curtains. He is quite a perfectionist, you know. And I had been longing for my beautiful blue velvet curtains for so long, that I had my neighbour Paul put them up as Michiel was in New Orleans in the Fall. At least those in the front room, where I work at my computer. The blue velvet curtains give me privacy at night, and warmth. But now the back room is approaching the final stages of renovation, and we find ourselves confronted with the same old curtain problem. At least we learned a new word, pelmet. (Or valance, valletje.) But most pelmets are made out of textile, and Michiel insists on wood. I found a wonderful second hand green velvet pelmet, a perfect fit for my front room blue velvet curtains, but Michiel doesn't allow putting it up. We searched long and hard, and oh miracle, we found a wooden Victorian pelmet, picture above. The fretting goes on, will he do a simplified version for our blue velvet curtains?

Update: I removed the picture of the Victorian pelmet because there were complaints, see comments. Never mind, since last night our fretting has already meandered from Victoria to Jan Schoonhoven. Now we are planning to plagiarize Schoonhoven, and turn his ideas into pelmets. Click on the image for the image credit. But I had always thought my readership intelligent enough to figure that out without instructions. More Schoonhoven here.

Quick, before Michiel paints the final coat on the floor, and the fumes will chase us upstairs. The stench will be unbearable, I remember it from last time. The renovations are coming along nicely. But some things keep puzzling us. We went out for lunch today in a local deli. The deli pretends to be frightfully upscale, everything is French, but nobody knows how to pronounce anything. Try saying Quiche Lorraine in a Canadian accent. The owner's daughter wearing the uniform of the local private school, how French is that. Oh, read this, you'll laugh. Fortunately Toronto isn't as bad as NY yet. And we would be so on the safe side. Anyway, being in a renovation mood, we couldn't help but cast a close examining look around this distinguished deli. A loose electrical cord on the floor. Fake antique base boards. Very extremely dirty floor. Hideous benches in green fake leather, with outlets on them. Very unstylish trims and rims everywhere. Uneven paintwork everywhere. How can it be this deli has this upscale feel to it despite all that and more? Why does our house keep breathing pigsty whatever we do? We must be doing something wrong, what is it?

This is how quick it can be. On Monday I do a drawing, on Tuesday a print gets ordered, and on Wednesday the print is in the mail. One of the ways in which I make a little money. So very very nice to have somebody ask for something, fully knowing and expecting they have to pay some money. I have to put something in my FAQ to scare away all those people who constantly want my stuff for free. Charities, not-for-profits, sympathetic publications, and so on. And no!! The fact that YOU put your time in for free does NOT mean I am going to do the same. It may be your good cause, but that does NOT mean it is mine. And every god damn time it happens I say yes. I am going to stop it, I am going to. Because you know what? People don't even value stuff they get for free. Must be something psychological. The times I did drawings for distant friends, and just asked for bottles of wine in return that I never got. A political party I don't even vote for published one of my drawings for free in their poverty-stricken magazine. And forgot to credit me. Enough! Maybe if you can find a printer who will print for free, on free paper. Maybe then. Last Sunday I said yes to an Australian thing, but it doesn't feel right. It's just not fair to people who do pay me. Like the nice lady who ordered this no-hotel-print.

And before you ask, yes it's Piffin's room.

I sit down to write this, turn on the radio, and hear Whiter Shade of Pale. And I was just about to write about our white day. We finally painted the living room. That is, I did the masking tape and Michiel did the painting. And I will take a picture and upload it, as soon as the batteries are charged. Youtube will do for now. (Update. Go see Procol Harum on Youtube, I uploaded our Wonder Wall) Why are the batteries always empty when I want to use the camera?

Swear to god, I didn't notice it until hours after I finished the drawing. The shadow reads "anger". But it's for the better really, I think it's one of the worst things parents can say to children, that the (their?) house is not a hotel. The house should be a home, and belong to the whole family. Taking that away from children, is taking away their security. Brrr, this week I certainly do not agree with the parental advice column.

Done!

I don't know whether I am working in between house wiving, or house wiving in between working. I coloured this piece, made an early dinner -lovely Moroccan meatballs- and went to Otger's parent teacher night. I was in the post office, and that Andre Hazes song "zij gelooft in mij" played there, in English of course, must have been the original, it felt strange, too familiar. Last week in our Chinese supermarket, where they always play very loud weird music, I heard the Kraftwerk song "she's a model" in Chinese. Very weird.

This was an Asian girl. Believe me or not, but every time we have a non Caucasian model, my whole otherwise quite reasonable sense of proportions is gone. I feel like I have to learn to draw all over again. That is also why I drew so light that I had to enhance the scan to where the paper turned orange. This girl's legs for example were so impossibly short compared to the rest of her body, and I just could not get that right, especially when lying down. And her face, don't get me started on her face. No, I won't show the longer poses, they are bad, bad, bad. Piffin went with me tonight, that was nice. The universities have "reading week", there aren't any classes. Piffin normally has an evening class on Wednesdays. And oh yes, before I forget, we sold THREE paintings on eBay! We urgently have to do more of them. But first I have to finish my menopausal illustrations.

Tree hugging. Now don't laugh, but we have an actual tree hugger in our family. The first time ever Piffin had dirty fingernails. Cute little black rims on all ten fingers. She was three months old when we went camping with her. It was on a campground in Luxembourg, where she got hold of a tree, and explored it with great interest. I can't remember ever having hugged a tree myself. Have you? Or maybe carved the name of a secret love in its bark? Do people still do that? In the forest where my brother walks his dogs, there are dozens of typographical works of art in the bark of some very old trees, really skillfully done. Quite some time ago.

Shame about the lovely butt, but the customer is always right. Vaginal drought is only one of many menopausal complaints, be it a very picturesque one. And all this on our first ever Family Day holiday. Michiel and Otger are putting wire netting in the heating ducts, to block off the mice. Michiel did all sorts of heroic chores today, with an ax he dug canals in the ice along the sidewalk, to allow the enormous puddles of melt water to drain. But no luck, he hacked away for an hour, only to find one of the insanely few drains totally frozen shut. All those puddles will turn into ice again anyway tonight, fun.

Just to remind you, the auction of Piffin's Nutella painting ends today at 16:00:52 EST, which is 10PM in Europe. We have a bidder, feel free to outbid her!

See how life drawing comes in handy. I am expecting this art director to come back for changes, she always does. So if anyone else has input also, just shoot. But for now it's weekend, lovely. Otger's report card came in the mail, and it's impeccable. As far as I'm concerned, and I am actually not (concerned), I am relieved. Eighty percent for science, so he can't have screwed up that exam. His new science teacher was a bit reluctant to accept him in her class after his gifted designation. She wanted to see his exam results, and his old teacher was sick. Otger had horribly messed up his math exam, which certainly didn't help. Otger said his low mark was caused by him writing his stuff all over the place, but he couldn't show that because the exams had already been filed. Nerve wrecking, to say the least. I think the new science teacher will be very happy with his eighty percent science mark.

That was the longest christmas break ever, but at long last we started again, I did these last night. The upper one is my favourite, unfortunately I didn't get it done in time. The oil paint has to wait for now, I have some vaginal dryness to do today. The Menopausal Magazine has called upon me once again. So that is going to be my afternoon, with Orbit deeply unconscious in the chair beside me. Every now and again I pet him, and then he turns on his back and puts his paws up in the air. Heaven. I already got the groceries, with neighbour Michelle. We have a great thing going, Michelle and I. She has a car, but no driver's license. I have a license, but no car. So we grocery shop together. I secretly parked in the church parking lot to unload my stuff, the parking spots around my house are buried in snow. I already had the Beetle stuck once, I don't want to have to go trough that again.

You can't say she's not inspired. Do you think the fact that all of her teachers are women who stress feminist values is influencing her? At any rate, I am glad she isn't using the kind with wings anymore. I only have to buy the one kind now. Before I would always end up using her winged pads whenever I ran out, and they would scrape my legs until I had no skin left, torture. And these are also nice and papery. I hate the stay-dry kind with the plastic like surface, they make me sweat, I don't understand how anybody can stand those.

For the auction (done!) I'll take a better picture in daylight. This will have to do for the blog. I am still not nearly where I want to be with my oil skills, it is damn hard. There is no undo. But I like the way we are trying to do this, I am forced to finish whatever I start the same day. I used to work months on paintings, I hope to avoid that with this approach. These little triflings will improve, please endure. And I cannot blog today without mentioning the weather. Okay, I mentioned the weather.

No painting when there is real work. We keep making up rules as we go. As I go on my spikes over the ice on the streets. Otger had one eye frozen when he came home, he couldn't see very well, I told him to wait and not touch it. It's good again now. It is incredibly cold, brrrr. I hear you guys in Holland are already having beers on patios. Have one on us while we succumb. And make sauerkraut.

Auction number two. Her goal is half a tuition fee. But she sits babies as well, which isn't bad business at all. And apart from all that auctioning, we are just really really cold this weekend. It's almost frightening, the icy tree branches in the stormy wind made alarming crackling noises as I walked under them. The streets are almost empty, the few people that do walk around, hunch their shoulders against the wind, dressed as if for a polar expedition. It is minus 14 at the moment, but the wind gusts make it feel much colder. Last night we made it out to see a ballet, our neighbour Garnet had done the sound design for it. Quite warming tropical Cambodian sounds. We also could have chosen neighbour Kirk, who played Mahler's ninth, together with our friend Michele, and dozens of others in the Toronto Symphony. Such an artistic street we live in. Michele's husband Skype-chatted me today that he was doing a gig in Boulder. I presumed Boulder was a bar of some kind here in Toronto, and I called him up to invite him for dinner. Okay, I am stupid. Boulder is in Colorado, smack in the middle of the USA.

That's it, we've done it. We started an auction. Starting oil paint after so many years is not easy, I will have to work on retrieving that skill. I am not super happy with this first result, but we have to start somewhere. I am going to keep doing miniature paintings of heroes and heroines. This one is the first female space tourist, but I can do many different ones. From Hansje Brinkers to Che Guevara or Terry Fox, it is pretty limitless and inspiring enough. Piffin has started her first oil painting, which we hope to list tomorrow. Of course hers will be so much better!

Don't worry, I did my painting. But Piffin took the camera to a party. I hope it is having a good time.

This must be a thousand dollars worth of oil paint, easy. It has been packed away in a box ever since Belgium, we still have several boxes taped shut with tape bearing the name of the moving company that got us here. I don't think much of this paint has been used since before Piffin was born. And that same little baby girl bought Liquin and turpentine today, so we're all set. We are starting a project together. Everybody and their second cousin is doing daily paintings and auctioning them on E-Bay nowadays, and we figure we can do that too. Mother and daughter, it has appeal doesn't it? Little postcard size oil paintings, maybe not quite as tacky as these. Fuck photoshop, the real paint is out of the moth balls. I hope I still know how to use it. I've already decided on a theme for my series, but I am not telling yet. I am going to sleep on it.

All universities canceled their evening classes tonight, except for OCAD. Snow is far too inspirational of course. This is the most snow we had so far this winter. It is such fun, I hope it will take a week for the ploughs to reach our street. And as for work, sure I am working. Sending reminders to clients. Trying to get the orthodontist to stop charging past where the balance states zero. Understanding why the mortgage payments have gone up. Making sure the cheque I gave to the window guy doesn't bounce. Making sure Piffin had something in her stomach before she went to that evening class. I am almost ready to do some real work again.

I am watching Super Tuesday night on Dutch radio. Radio with live stream video. Refreshing, lots of time for talking, disagreeing, explaining, joking around, reading text messages, chatting while others talk, not looking in camera's, eating, drinking, picking noses, writing stuff down, walking past in front of the camera, sitting down, getting up, why can they never do that on real TV? I realize it's kind of weird that I am watching Dutch radio from Canada. I would love to watch a lovely obscure American radio station cover the US elections. But I don't know any. Do you?

This was yesterday, just before the Gajes performance. We watched the scene from inside Starbucks, dozens of people walked by, and every single one of them noticed. We grew more and more uncomfortable, and the little six-year-old with us also wanted answers. So Clare went and checked out the sleeping bag. She tried to talk to the person inside, but soon found out there was none. A police man showed up, and did the final check, put his foot on the sleeping bag. Nothing. Apparently a homeless person had secured his or her spot by making it look as if someone was inside the sleeping bag. Pretty grim scene though.

We went to see Dutch theatre this afternoon. Gajes from Deventer played their Alice in Wonderland show at Nathan Phillips Square, and they were really good. Really. But to be honest, we had a hidden agenda. Gajes play on stilts, and Piffin is planning to do one of her own art projects on stilts. So she did some espionage on the troupe's hardware, and discovered that they nailed their shoes straight to the stilts. And that they wore knee pads. I am so loving those art school projects. After the theatre show we went and bought six handguns.

Quick snapshot of our street tonight. Merry Christmas to you too. Poor Otger. His first day in his new math and science classes, and the Board closes all the schools after lunch. He only got to go to math, and there they only watched Pirates of the Caribbean, because only a third of the students had shown up. So we had an unexpected warm and cozy idyllic afternoon. With tea and cookies and our little six-year-old neighbour girl that we picked up from her closed school. Unaffected by the hundreds of car crashes, we just enjoy the storm.