A time for sorting things out

As part of our concerted effort to declutter, yesterday my daughter and I went on a little excursion to the Goodwill bin, which was followed by a gelato at the nearby Il Gelato di Filo (an excellent gelateria near the intersection that lies at the heart of the cozy San Niccolò neighborhood). Then my daughter and I parted ways: she toward home, and I to the rose garden. I'd had a quick walk through the garden with a friend last week, but there hadn't been time to linger. I'd never seen it right after the severe late-winter pruning, and its starkness took me by surprise; yet it also felt familiar, perhaps because I feel as though I'm at a similar point right now. In any case, I've been waiting for the chance to return so I could experience this favorite garden of mine in this particular phase.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit how many of the one-hundred-and-sixty-eight pictures I took were of thorny rose stems—bare of dried leaves, frost-bitten rosehips and just about all else (and most of which I am not including). I do find the garden very appealing in this state, and love how the structure of the plants is revealed at this time of year.

 
As I wandered, I wondered if I might find some red for this month's ROY G BIV photo challenge (details at the bottom of the post in case you haven't seen this mentioned before). I was not disappointed; there were rose hips, berries, red-tinged leaves and fresh red shoots on a tree/bush that I am really fascinated by but have yet to identify (all pictured below). As I'd noted last January, which was during the first winter the garden had ever been open to the public, the relative colorfulness is surprising for this time of the year. One lovely discovery was what may have been the caretaker & his family's Christmas tree (first image on the left); closer inspection revealed that clusters of berries had been tied onto a camellia bush with lengths of red ribbon.

Each time I visit the garden I like to check on things I've been observing from one season to the next. Sometimes there are hints of what was, or what is to come. Left: The newest growth of another unidentified plant that develops the most amazing red stalks in late summer; you can just see the faintest trace of red in the young stems. Right: Some of the climbing roses, which weren't as severely cut back as the bushes, are already beginning to send out delicate clusters of leaves.

    
And finally, once I have made the rounds, if there's still time, I like to sit under my favorite olive tree (shown in the photo at the top of this post). By the time I reached it yesterday, the sunlight had thinned in that part of the garden, so instead I settled on a sunny bench nearby. As I enjoyed the warmth of the lowering sun, watching the shadows lengthen, February's word finally came to me. I've been trying to find the right word since the month began. Busy words, like 'sift', 'sort', 'separate', 'organize' & 'prepare', have all popped into my mind; so did quieter ones, like 'breathe' & 'cherish'. It's been a month of figuring out things before confronting a series of changes—some inevitable, some still unclear—so I've been torn between scrambling to get my life more organized and simply appreciating the momentary tranquility.

So finally, while sitting quietly at the top of the garden, a sign I had seen on a shop earlier crept into my consciousness. When I recently noticed its display windows obscured by paper, I feared it had joined the many others that have gone out of business in recent months, but on the way up to the rose garden I noticed there was a small sign saying 'Chiuso per riallestimento'...in other words, that it was closed while things were being sorted out. It is fairly common for shops to take a break in February, probably since it's the quietest season in Florence; the reason may be renovations mandated by laws or codes, a fresh coat of paint, a change of stock...or even just a well-earned & much-needed vacation. In any case, riallestimento, which derives from the verb allestire (to prepare/set up/fit out/stage/mount), with the prefix 'ri-' implying 'afresh' or 'anew', certainly feels like the right word to describe my state of mind right now.

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Looking into the sun...
Top: A view of Forte di Belvedere and the area just outside Florence's old city walls. Bottom: Paving stones on one of the garden's lookout points.

Looking down at the garden's main lawn, which is nearly bare after the heavy pruning (so very different from the rest of the year, when the bushes are full and create mini- semi-private zones where people picnic and read and nap)...

Lengthening shadows...
Left: A railing in the garden (which, alas, does not appear nearly as dramatic in the photo as it did in person). Right: The foot of the one-hundred-and sixty-two steps that lead from the San Niccolò neighborhood up to Piazzale Michelangelo, taken as I left the rose garden's lower entrance (another one can be reached from midway up the steps).

And no outing would be complete without a photo of the Arno. Much of the walk home is along the river (one of two routes  you can choose). This view shows the water passing over the weir-type of thing under Ponte alle Grazie (one bridge east-ish of the famous Ponte Vecchio). I have never gotten a photo of the Arno quite like this; it reminds me more of Venice's lagoon...

One last note: tomorrow artists Jennifer Coyne Qudeen and Julie Booth are kicking off round two of the ROY G BIV photo challenge. Details & guidelines are here if you'd like to join them for 'RED'; you have until Saturday to post up to five images inspired by shades & tints of red. Please check back here in the next couple of days for my contribution...

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{Past posts about Florence's rose garden can be found by clicking on
'rose garden' in the 'Things I like to write about' section in the sidebar.}

Florence in relief

You may remember having seen Recess & relief, a post from last April, in which I explained how I was just getting started on the embossed maps of Florence's piazzas. Because I tend to have a lot of different projects going at once (and also because it always takes me a while to 'sit' with a project as it progresses), pulling together the first maps has taken much longer than I ever would have imagined; I finally added some to the shop this week. Since I've been noticing that the colors of the images in my online shop all seem considerably duller than the original photos—and the items themselves—I decided to post additional/better versions here as well.

The following four images show some examples of the maps with simple Rives borders (the same paper used for the maps themselves). As simple as they are like this, I think they are my favorites...although, depending on the framing, the lovely marbled paper borders could also sett off the maps nicely. (Please click on any of the images to see them larger.)

Piazza Santo Spirito

Piazza San Lorenzo

Piazza Santa Maria Novella

Piazza della Signoria

Here are some examples showing the different marbled paper borders that are also available in finite quantities. Though it doesn't show up very well in the photos, all but the 'autumn colors' marbled paper have gold highlights running through them.

Piazza Santa Trìnita shown with terracotta & aqua border

Piazza Santa Maria Novella shown with autumn colors border

Piazza San Lorenzo shown with terracotta & plum border

Piazza Santo Spirito shown with earth tones & green border

Piazza della Signoria shown with chocolate & golden yellow border

Piazza Santa Maria Novella shown with indigo & neutrals border

I am finding that not all piazzas are conducive to embossing, but plan to continue working with those that are as I have time. I'm also hoping to translate other facets of Florence's endlessly fascinating urban plan through embossing at some point...I really like it as a way of interpreting the relationship between the city blocks & open spaces/streets.

The allure of paper

Hello again! My last post feels like a very long time ago. I am feeling much better now, and hope it's not long before I feel like my usual self and am back to doing my usual self things again. The most frustrating part about having a bad case of the flu is that you don't feel like doing anything—I didn't have the energy to read, watch a movie or even listen to music for several days. Instead there was just a semi-delirious jumble of thoughts about all of the things I had planned to be doing. You'd think all of that idle time could be focused into solving creative 'problems' awaiting me in the studio, but my brain couldn't even seem to follow a single thought very far. Things are finally returning to normal, though, and here—at last—are the photos that were to have accompanied the giveaway post.

As part of my 12x12 project, I'd like to focus on a different material each month. Going hand-in-hand with January's talk of fresh beginnings/blank canvases—and as such a fundamental & versatile material—'Paper' seemed like a great place to kick off the year (my apologies that it's already February). I have more paper than I could ever catalog, but as I was gathering some of it for various projects last month, I photographed a few of my favorites.

I love many things about paper...for example, how each paper has such a distinct personality, and even how the light/position in relationship to the sunlight brings out different aspects of their qualities. Often, you may find yourself searching for just the right paper to execute a project you have in mind, but sometimes a magical thing happens: a paper's beauty/virtues actually inspires something completely unforeseen. In fact, falling in love with a paper is what originally led me to begin The Piazzas of Florence. (Of course, it was really a passion for the city itself, but it's true that a love affair with a certain paper put the wheels in motion.)

The paper in question was Rives Heavyweight. In a past blog entry about an artist's book I had just finished, I mentioned the day the paper cast its spell (which is now closer to twelve years ago):

I still remember that July day, nearly eight years ago…I sat in the light of a sunny window, admiring the paper’s slightly toothy texture and deckled edges, knowing I just had to create something from it. I am fascinated by books that open in unexpected ways, revealing new layers...little surprises...so I started experimenting with miniature books whose pages folded out. Each chapter began with a historical background of each of Florence’s main piazzas, which was then followed by pages that unfolded to reveal different types of increasingly more ‘personal’ information: excerpts from the writings of past travelers, watercolored maps that could be personalized by readers, ‘Invitations’ to inspire creative expression and blank space to use however they wished. When I was ready to present the proposal for my ‘interactive travel guide’ (the original concept for the book that eventually became The Piazzas of Florence), the package included a mock-up chapter showing how the various elements worked together—which I constructed from the gorgeous Rives paper.

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More on the Rives in a moment, but first a little background on the image at the top of this post (as well as the next two), showing my large sketchpad. The paper is not especially noteworthy, though it does have the right qualities for creating a 'place' I enjoy coming to each day: it's slightly creamy, lightly textured and has some weight. But, most importantly in this case, it is large...roughly the size of four sheets of A4/Letter-sized paper. I use it for my 'daily action', a ritual inspired by Carol Lloyd's Creating a Life Worth Living.

I have never felt that my life wasn't worth living (!), so I'm glad I didn't let the title of this book discourage me from buying it; there are a lot of helpful ideas for cultivating your creative process. One of these is the 'daily action'—fifteen minutes devoted to a particular activity each day. Carol suggests choosing an activity that "creates an empty space where your creativity can reassert itself. Let the action be solitary and process-oriented. You are giving yourself 15 minutes of emptiness within the blur of living. Some examples of daily actions are dancing alone in your living room, meditation, walking, writing in a journal, drawing without purpose, singing improvisational melodies, doing yoga, and gardening." She adds that, "Unlike some forms of meditation, the goal of the daily action is not an empty mind. Blank time is enough. Let your mind go where it wants to that day. In this empty place, allow yourself to brainstorm, make wild plans, imagine the impossible, worry about silly things. Let yourself stretch your dream muscle and express your inner-whiner. Space out, tune in, rev up, calm down. Let your mind do whatever it wants to do, while your body does the action."

For my daily action, I decided to seek out just the right large, horizontally-oriented sketchpad, and give myself time to sit with it each day. I often think best with pen & paper, so I use the time to jot whatever comes to mind. Sometimes I'll brainstorm about a specific project; other times I work out design details. Or I may end up with a series of questions. On these generous pages, I often indulge my love of planning. It's become a great way to begin my creative day, and I always look forward to seeing what ends up on the page...and where it might lead.

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First of the cut sheets is the 175g Rives Heavyweight, the paper I mentioned using for my mock-up chapter of The Piazzas of Florence. I have never managed to find it locally, and had been living off of scraps from past projects until my parents brought me some lovely fresh sheets last year. Exquisite as book pages, it has also turned out to be perfect for the series of embossed piazza maps I've been working on (the second image shows a stack of hand-torn sheets awaiting embossing). The 'impressionable' quality may be ideal for embossing, but it's also very easy to make unwanted marks, so I tend to hold my breath a little when working with it! (This is one reason I still haven't finished all of the maps yet.) Luckily I have plenty of leftover strips for experimenting...

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I came across Fabriano Artistico when I was trying to find a substitute for Rives. The Artistico is actually very different to the Rives—sturdier, thicker, less toothy—but I love that it's so forgiving in terms of the media it will accept and the amount of handling it can take. The 200g warm white that I use has just a hint of creaminess and makes a nice weight for multimedia journal pages, plus I love including the watermark (along just one edge) when possible, i.e. as the end page of an accordion journal. (The other deckled edge adds a lovely touch to folded cards.) I chose this for some of my found poems a few months ago, and have also begun designing purse-sized 'Fab Art' notebooks, which I hope to share one of these days.

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Fabriano Disegno 5 is a recent discovery. I thought I was buying the white Fabriano Ingres I like to use for handmade envelopes, but its true identity was revealed when I noticed the watermark while photographing it. I did a little research and found that this acid-free half-cotton paper is very versatile, inviting the use of watercolors, acrylics, wax, ink, printmaking & more. I have yet to experiment, but am sure it will (at the very least) make beautiful envelopes.

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This is a 160g creamy Fabriano with a nice laid texture, and often appears as the pages of those beautiful marbled-paper & leather bound journals that are for sale in local stationery boutiques. I have used it for some of the components of an artist's book, as well as for personal journals and the mini accordion books offered in my shop.

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Even this fairly basic 192g Epson Enhanced Matte inspires me. I've started using it for my calendars because it reproduces photos well and is sturdy but not prohibitively expensive for something that requires thirteen pages. And, when these leftover strips caught my attention one day, they ended up giving me a direction for my alphabet for A Letter a Week 2013, in which I am creating sleeves for little boxes containing the word 'peace' written in different languages. I know it will do justice to the color combinations I'm hoping to use for the various letters, and the slight stiffness provides just enough structure (as long as it's not left in the sun, which causes the curling seen in the photo below).

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And this next one is a roll of 265g HP Hahnemühle Smooth Fine Art, which is my favorite photo paper; I came across it when I used an HP printer for my prints, and still haven't found an Epson paper that I like as much. It's smooth but still has a light texture, is bright enough for luminous photo reproductions but has a hint of warmth, and is just the right thickness for book pages that feel good to the hand. To me, the texture is 'velvety'...more what I had imagined finding in Epson's Velvet Fine Art Paper, which actually reminds me instead of watercolor paper. Even on the roll I find the Hahnemühle to be beautiful, and I love the effect of the loosened 'curves'. The different angles I shot it from gave the last few views a warmer cast, while the first ones make it appear a little starker than it is. In any case, these photos are more about the appealing curves.

All of this talk of paper has made me want to get over to the studio table and do some folding, cutting & making. In the meanwhile, I'd love to hear about your favorite papers if you're so inclined...

thirty-nine point one - updated

Well, the calendar has flipped over to February first around the entire circumference of the world by now (and in some places, the second has already begun!). I just wanted to let you all know that I have not forgotten about announcing the winner of the drawing today. When I discovered that I had a fever of 39.1 C last night, I finally gave in and accepted that the flu that's been chasing me all week was demanding some rest, and because of this I am running behind with the photos/post I was putting together for today. That will have to wait, as the fever is still with me and I seem to be able to do little more than sleep at the moment...but I will ask my daughter to choose a name as soon as she gets home from school this afternoon. Thanks for your patience!

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The time has finally come to announce the winner! But first, I'd like to thank you all for your comments & emails. It's so nice to know who's reading and what you think...

So, congratulations to AES, also known as Amy! Please let me know what you'd like to choose from the shop. It can also be one of the items that is listed as 'Coming Soon'...the embossed maps should be appearing next week, and I hope to have the earrings in there later this month.

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{I forgot to mention earlier that the photo at the top of the page is a hint for the next post (which would have been today's post if it weren't for this nasty flu).}

 


 

Pull me up!

 

I have a love/hate relationship with the kitchen. I sometimes resent how much time I spend there because it takes me out of the studio—and once I get started, it can be hours before I'm 'free' again—yet I am attracted to ingredients & kitchen tools in the same way that I adore paper, my T-square & X-Acto knife. I love the shapes, the colors, the textures of the 'materials' found in the kitchen...curvaceous pears, the orange yolk of a fresh egg, the silkiness of '00' flour and the coarseness of hand-ground cornmeal. And there's something appealing about the rhythmic motion of dicing a crisp red onion, slicing a ruffled summer tomato or deseeding a pomegranate...about the scent released as I strip the tiny leaves from a cluster of thyme stems, zest a lemon, or crush coriander seeds with the mortar & pestle. I actually find that, once I get in there, preparing meals can be a meditative process, and am often surprised by how something on my mind can somehow resolve itself as I go about doing these kitchen tasks. And I have definitely begun to notice more overlap between the kitchen and the studio in the last several months, in part through working with my Book Art Object title, Mise en place, but also because the ingredients—especially fruits & vegetables—often inspire me to get out my camera or consider them in a creative way.

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One of the elements of my '12x12' project is recipes. Last year I shared a few here, but I'm hoping to make it a more regular thing. In keeping with white being January's 'color of the month', this time I chose tiramisù—the exquisite Italian dessert that, as you may already know, derives from the words 'tirami su!', or 'pull me up!' Some say the name is attributed to the fact that the recipe contains coffee (though I don't think it's really enough to have much of an effect).

I have been wanting to make tiramisù for years. After being served the first piece of a freshly made one in a restaurant in Montepulciano last fall—and regular reminders from my daughter—we finally got ourselves organized in the New Year. I did some research into the way it's traditionally made here, and found that the ratio of egg to mascarpone is typically one egg for every 100g of mascarpone (though this can vary). I was also surprised to find that alcohol is not necessarily used; I don't generally like alcohol in desserts, so my version does not include it. A dash of something would not be out of place though...

We found some lovely artisan Savoiardi (ladyfingers), and the egg & mascarpone mixture was exquisite—though I realized only later that we'd had a little miscommunication and only put in two eggs. My daughter was thrilled when I told her I wanted to try the recipe again with more eggs. We used different biscuits (smaller & a bit more 'uniform'), and ended up needing more coffee for dipping that time. Capturing the tiramisù with the camera proved to be a challenge, partly due to the lack of natural light when I needed it, so I made it yet a third time! Initially, the mascarpone mixture wasn't quite as thick in the second & third tries, though it did firm up nicely once chilled. (Note that the photo shows a portion of tiramisù served out before it was chilled, since it would have been dark by the time it was ready.) Taste-wise, it was equally delicious each time—my point being that, whether you use two, four or five eggs, the tiramisù should be lovely!

Recipe ~

~1 cup strong coffee/~6 shots of medium-strong espresso (i.e. brewed in a stovetop Moka)

4 eggs

120g (⅔ cup) sugar, divided into two equal portions

500g mascarpone, softened a bit with a rubber spatula

~400g Savoiardi (ladyfingers)

cocoa powder 

Brew coffee, then pour into a shallow bowl or pan and set aside to cool.

Separate the eggs, putting the whites in a medium-sized bowl and the yolks in a large bowl.

Beat the yolks with an electric mixer (high speed) until they are creamy & pale in color; add half of the sugar and continue beating until incorporated.

With the mixer on low (or with a whisk), add the mascarpone to the yolk/sugar mixture a little at a time, gently, but thoroughly, mixing together until you have a lovely, creamy zabaione. Put the mixture in the fridge while you whip the whites.

Add a pinch of salt to the whites & whip into stiff peaks, then add the other half of the sugar and incorporate.

Gently fold the egg white mixture into your zabaione.

Now it's time to dip the Savoiardi into the coffee. Quickly do one side and then the other, placing them one at a time into your serving dish to create the first layer.

Depending on the size of your dish, you should be able to do two or three layers: dollop either half or one-third of the mascarpone mixture onto the first layer of biscuits, then then sift enough cocoa powder to cover, and repeat until the biscuits and the mascarpone mixture are used up. You may want to do the final/top sifting of cocoa when you serve the tiramisù.

Cover tightly with plastic wrap and chill for at least three hours, and even longer if you can manage to wait (the next day is best). Dust with cocoa powder before serving. Serves 8-10.

A few notes ~

- The eggs should be as fresh as you can get, as they are not cooked.
- Savoiardi are the biscuits traditionally used here, but a simple sponge cake can also be used. The Savoiardi are like sponges, so keep this in mind as you dip them in the coffee: first the top & then the bottom, deliberately, but quickly.
- I use very fine (i.e. castor) sugar.
- Any container (or combination of containers) will work; just try out the placement of the Savoiardi first so you know how to arrange them once they've been dipped in the coffee. It's important that they fit tightly so that the biscuits don't 'escape' under the weight of the mascarpone mixture as it chills & firms up.
- You may want to experiment with just the right amount of mascarpone-mixture-to-biscuit for your own taste.


I've also heard of fruit (or other) variations, and can imagine endless possibilities. Maybe there will have to be a summer version!

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{My One-Year-on Blogger drawing will be on Friday, 1 February, so please check back then if you've left a comment/sent me an email since I announced it earlier this month...and it's still not too late to 'enter'!}

Circles of orange

There are few things making me happier this month than the three-kilo bags of tarocchi we've been buying. The tarocco (sing.) is a type of blood orange that often has red-tinged flesh & skin, but the color doesn't tend to be as intense as the other varieties of blood oranges. It is very sweet, easy to peel, and makes a beautiful juice. Lots of Vitamin C and other good stuff...

I love the patterns found when you cut through an orange: you get a starburst effect from slicing it around the midsection (i.e. horizontally), and then there's the more linear pattern that happens from slicing off an edge vertically (shown in the upper left image, below). These interior designs are such an interesting contrast to the simple (near) spherical shape of the uncut orange, with its fairly uniform surface. I suppose one appeal of the tarocco in particular is the mottled color; the skin seems to have been sponge-painted, and the flesh looks as though someone may have squeezed in a few drops of vermillion paint, which then proceeded to seep into the different 'sections'. 

Part of the '12x12' project I've mentioned a few times recently includes focusing on a fruit or vegetable that's in season each month, and exploring different ways to interpret it. These days, 'getting to know something' often seems to begin with the camera, but ultimately my hope is to also draw, paint, collage—or cook with it—as well. This month, I considered somehow using the 'net' bags I have been collecting—maybe for splattering paint?—but so far have only cut some circles from them. I'm not so sure about their plastic-y-ness. Along with circles of orange & red Canson paper, the net circles appear scattered through some of the images below, and I'll see where else they may take me.

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This seems like a perfect opportunity to show off the gorgeous 'Orange' fabric that I won from Julie Booth last summer...she created the print blocks herself. I just love the colors (which are actually a little darker & richer than shown in the photo). She likes to experiment with using things from the kitchen in her printmaking, and includes details on her techniques in a monthly newsletter. I am really looking forward to trying out some of the ideas one of these days...

Orange by Julie Booth