World Peace through Silkscreening

The very talented Jennie showed me her great way to make screenprinted t-shirts! We are giving them to our housewarming party guests (while supplies last) this weekend. hint hint.
I dug up some deals on t-shirts at the thrift store-local classic: The Village Discount-and Jennie prepared some screens and came up with a fun design, inspired by last week's bomb threat on our block. The design includes a teddy bear about to be blown up with the caption: "The Lakehouse 2010...it's dynamite!" Not kidding about the bomb threat, read the previous posts.
The screenprinting process includes a little work before the actual printing on t-shirts happens. In short, you prepare a special screen with photo emulsion- Jennie keeps her emulsion next to the ketchup. Then you print out your design onto a special acetate sheet. Or you can draw directly onto the sheet using a sharpie. The acetate film is placed on the silkscreen and a big light etches in the design. How's that for articulate?! That is about as detailed as you'll get on that end of the process from me.

Then we mixed up some fabric ink, placed a t-shirt (with protective board slipped inside to prevent ink bleeding through shirt) onto a table and inked up the screen! It also involves a really fun squeegie (who doesn't love the squeegie tool?) and, in this screenprinting session, it involved help from my friends, Bob and Georg, visiting from Austria. It was truly an international peace effort. Notice the ethnic tensions in this photo below.Silkscreening...keeping kids off the street and hipsters employed!

Book gets press(ed)

You might remember a post from last year showing my Computer Book in progress in North Carolina. It was an obsessive book I carried with me on my daily walks, slowly turning the text into Os and 1s.
I'm happy to report that this sculptural book work is currently being shown this summer in Oklahoma City along side some very accomplished artists for whom I have great respect!
The show, at Artspace at Untitled in Oklahoma City, was called Altered Books. Here's some press from the exhibit:
An article from a local paper: http://www.newsok.com/article/3475517?searched=altered%20books&custom_click=search
and then watch the beginning of this video carefully. The Computer Book gets a little cameo role for a few seconds!

No-Fail Kale

I know, I know, I'm more likely to make pigment for a painting with kale than actually eat it. But I keep hearing the nutritional wonders of this bitter leafy plant. Notice how I placed a complimentary color (my half-eaten carrot) in the picture above. Carrots are certainly not required to cook kale here but aesthetics count in my world. I would consider kale to probably be my most likely scapegoat vegetable. It needs all the compliments it can get. I actually think my worst nightmare might be being strapped to a chair for days being fed kale.
My friend, Natasha, has done amazing things with kale in the oven so I thought I'd try it out myself. While I think anything smothered in olive oil will usually improve, I was doubtful with even this vegetable. Thanks for some "no-fail kale", Natasha! Here it is:

Crisped Kale:

1. Wash kale and pat COMPLETELY dry.It's important to dry it or else it ends up steaming in the oven.
2. Toss with a little bit of olive oil, salt, and pepper. Over-salting will cause shrinking. Hold back!
   
3. Broil until crisp. About 5 minutes. Watch it as it turns black quickly.
4. Eat your vegetables!
   

I'm also happy to report that I actually used the broil option on the oven dial. As for how much nutrition I just cooked out of it, that's another story.

Dynamite or Dynamite Art?

Inside this building (viewed from my window across the street) was possibly the setting for some bizarre art making. So bizarre that it became a bomb threat last night and the whole block was evacuated. I knew there were a lot of artists hiding in Rogers Park, but I had no idea their art was 'da bomb'.
Okay, bad joke, but I couldn't resist. The block was compared to a scene from the movie Outbreak with officials dressed in haz-mat suits:

Check out the full article, that describes wires sticking out of teddy bears, green liquid in buckets, and so on. This is better than the movies!:
http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/2010/08/police-responding-to-possible-bomb-threat.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ChicagoBreakingNews+%28Chicago+Breaking+News%29
Thankfully they found no threat...so please, friends, still come and visit me, we're in the clear!

I run 35 miles and my car dies.

This blog post is a two-fer. I have two pieces of incredible news. As my title suggests, the first is that I ran 35 miles in 72 hours. The second is that my polka-dot car bit the dust.
Item #1: The reason I ran so much is because I had the privilege of running on an all-woman team, called Jungle Rot, at the Great Lakes Relay last weekend.It is a 10 person team but we only added up to 8 this year. Yikes! That meant we had to split the approximately 270 miles of the course between ourselves over 3 days. It started in Rogers City, MI Friday Morning near Lake Huron and ended in Empire at Lake Michigan on Sunday. Add to that lots of mosquitos, an average of 4 hours of sleep per night, the chance of getting lost in the woods... and hitchhiking your way back (which happened to someone this year), shampooing your hair in Lake Huron, and spending lots of time with other crazy runner types who put sea salt under their tongues to re-hydrate (delicious!), ...and you have the making for an unforgettable weekend. I think my official mileage may have been 34.9 miles but I'm tacking on .1 miles for running (or should I say hobbling) out of the way of a bee attracted to my neon shirt. On day 3 with no sleep, there is nothing funnier than trying to run (on locked up quads) away from a bee. I also thought I was truly crazy when I saw this hill I was voluntarily running up on my 34th mile:

Certifiably Crazy!
I later realized I was following runners who had taken a wrong turn on the course, making my 5.6 leg into 6.3 miles. Ouch. But, I can't wait til next year!

So onto my second item of the blog: THE POLKA DOT CAR (aka Polkie) has died. Her final resting place is in Orland Park, Illinois. I was on a lunch break from painting at the Orland Park Library and heard massive amounts of squealing (more than I've heard in the past year-which is saying a lot) and pulled over into a parking spot right in front of --very appropriately-- Michaels Crafts Store. I even called Michaels to tell them not to tow away my craft project stuck in their lot. On that fated Friday, only one week after a cross-state trip to Kalamazoo, my wheel stopped moving apparently and was skidding along the lot making a beautiful final arc on the asphalt, leaving its last mark on this world. Contrary to family members who think it might just be something easy to fix...IT IS DEAD! I'm taking it off my life support.


A full memorial in the form of a short film will fully commemorate the car this summer. Stay tuned for that.
In the meantime, I'd like to dunk my head in one of the Great Lakes again:

A Hoax on the Folks

Many of you know that I spend a lot of time at the Old Town School of Folk Music. Maybe you even swung by their Folk and Roots festival this past weekend. I think the school is one of the best things about the City of Chicago and I don't think there is any place in the world quite like it. (The school offers great 8 week sessions in every instrument, dance form, and genre imaginable. Note: This promotion for the school is largely for strategic karmic purposes that will make more sense at the end of the story. Register for a class here.)
Okay. Anyway...I have been taking an ongoing Irish Fiddle class off and on at Old Town School for quite a few years now.

All the while I've been fiddling, I have learned about one of the school's legends. His name is Ted Johnson. Some of my fellow classmates would mention him during a fiddle class and I would always wonder: "Who is this Ted, anyway!?" Although we have both taken Irish fiddle classes many times, we never managed to register for the same session for several years. I also soon pieced together that this 'Ted' character who I never saw in class was one of the guys pictured in the photographs lining the school's hallways. The legend of Ted grew.
I decided one day that it wasn't fair that I knew what Ted looked like but he never knew what I looked like.
The only sensible, natural thing to do was to plot out how to make a picture of myself visible for Ted to stumble upon in the hallway.

I made my own print out of myself fiddling at home, stuck it in a frame similar to the ones already on display, with the caption saying: "Here's Lookin' at you, Ted. c.2010."
When I visited my next fiddle class, I had it all ready in my purse, and walked into class (probably 5 minutes late) only to find a man I had never met before sitting in class. IT WAS TED! IT WAS TED! Ted had decided to just drop by on the day I was supposed to unveil my big secret photo!
We hugged and I immediately proceeded to show the class the photo I had intended to install in the hallway. We found a place for it anyway (currently held up on the wall with those sticky tabs) and took photos of ourselves together in front of it. Here is Ted (above) pointing out another photo with him in it. As of a few days ago, the picture STILL illegally graces the hallway alongside photos of-ahem-other folk legends.
I'd like to think it is my own small participation in Culture Jamming. Although I'm definitely not trying to bring Old Town School down. They're hardly "the man." Sources around school tell me no one has mentioned anything. I heard this past weekend that the staff person in charge of installing the photographs (hey there! Are you reading this?) would maybe even like the democratic addition to the photography display anyway. Either way, I mean no harm. I love you Old Town School!
(FYI: We are standing on stairs. Ted is not that tall.)

Jean, the sign painter

I painted this sign (BY HAND!) for a show in Hyde Park at the Experimental Station today:
"After the Wars is a multimedia documentary project that combines photographs and recordings of ten veterans. The goal is to learn how war changed their lives and what their unique experiences can tell us about the country they served."

"After the Wars" is on exhibit at the Experimental Station, 6100 S. Blackstone Ave., through July 16. Admission is free.

Weekdays: 12:00 - 4:00 pm.
Wednesday evenings: 6:00 - 8:00 pm
Saturdays and Sundays: 10:00 am - 4:00 pm.

Photographs by Paul Calhoun. Audio by Ben Calhoun. Edited by Cate Cahan.

CHECK IT OUT! http://afterthewars.wbez.org/

Flo-master of the Universe

This is a vintage felt tip pen that I forgot that I owned. I will be
flowing soon in a 1950s sort of way. Not so much in a hip hop way.
Although flowing hip hop style should be one of my summer goals. Lofty
goals.

Another Day at Work

Another Day at the Library

This One Time When I was in Budapest...

Quick! Where am I? Nope, not in a small Michigan town near Ann Arbor...but I suspect now that the name Ypsilanti originates in Hungary. (This picture-and all the others in this blog post-were taken during my roughly 24 hours in Budapest.) Who knew?!?
I have been meaning to write a really inspiring, witty, and mind-blowing blog post about more of my travels, specifically about my experience in Budapest. I finally have the time to do that now! I also owe it to our great tour guide, Zoltan Nagy, that we met in Budapest. He asked a while back for pictures. Here they are now, Zoltan!
It feels like forever ago that I was in Europe but it was only this past January. You might remember I spent some time visiting my friend, Bob, who lives in Vienna. We also took some short trips to Prague and Budapest.
...In the dead of winter. If you think the pictures look a bit cold, IT WAS.

When we arrived at Budapest's impressive main train station, I bought a Cappuccino in a plastic cup because I think it usually sounds the same in most languages and I just don't feel confidant asking for beverages in Hungarian. Four years of high school Latin and all I could ask for at Budapest's train station concession stand was a cappuccino while pointing at a bread-y thing. I'm totally a world traveller.Look at the balmy Danube River! I don't know how I forgot to pack my swimsuit!

I learned that Hungary is the only country whose current currency, florints, were in use while it was a Socialist state. I believe there is a push to bring the Euro to Hungary. During the day in Budapest, we did things like stumble upon a church inside a mountain and climb icy stairs to even colder lookouts. Did I mention it was cold? The main highlight of the trip was the Budapest Backpacker Free Walking Tour where we met our very excellent tour guide: Zoltan Nagy. His name translates as 'the great sultan.' We even became facebook friends later. You should, too.
He is a professor of History and gave a great tour to me, Bob, and an Australian couple.
I'd like to think the high point of the trip, both geographically and spiritually was when Zoltan offered us a drink from his knapsack to warm us up. What was the name of that drink again, Zoly? I remember accepting a second shot of the clear fruity spirits and thinking soon thereafter that Budapest was a very fine place to visit.There was a part of the tour where we were invited to touch a part of this statue for good luck. I don't remember what the statue represented but I do know that there was a particular part of the underside of this anatomically correct horse that was shiny and I was the only one on the tour who contributed to its gloss. Thanks for the boost, Zoly.

Below is a picture of indoor heating at a bar. It was cold everywhere!
I learned that many bars in Budapest spring up in abandoned buildings. We sat, er, squatted, in what looked like someone's living room from another era, sipping beer, and surrounded by faded wallpaper, questionable couch cushions, and what looked like drug-inspired decor. I mean, I've never thought of a violin case as an eyebrow until now. We were guided to this off-the-beaten-path bar by our host, Jimmy, at the hostel we were staying at. We would have never found our way through little maze-like walkways and side streets on our own to get to some of these bars without our hostel host.
I do remember that Jimmy, -pictured at right-apparently had a direct line to Obama at the hostel.At the end of our brief jaunt through Budapest, I remember us missing our train by minutes. I definitely could have used some Hungarian spirits from someone's knapsack at that point. The train station is open air and also cold. We figured out what the next train back to Vienna was and scraped together our last forints for McDonald's cappuccinos. I can't wait to return to Budapest in the summer months some day!!!