A Visit

I left the planet on a blue beam of light. Looking out at the world, I felt weightless and playful. I even propped my head up on my hand as if laying on sand at the beach and admiring the vastness of the ocean. But I was told to go back, so I began following a pink light beam back down and toward my future self- 20 years from now. She would be turning 49.

I swirled around into the green countryside somewhere- probably in Europe. I was surrounded by vineyards and lived in a stone house with some red geraniums and other wild flowers marking the entrance. The dwelling looked old but well taken care of. I approached the door and knocked. A tan, strong, and relaxed looking woman answered the door. She did not look like me but she was supposed to be me.

"Is he here?" I asked strait away, fearing that I'd have no future husband. For some reason I needed to know before introductions.

"Nope." She had a trowel in her hand, a loose grey shirt and kaki green shorts. Her demeanor was so relaxed it was almost dismissive.

She led me inside past some of the rooms of her stylish house. Teals and rusted, vintage furniture sat in the sparse but well lit rooms. There was lots of physical space and little to clutter it up. We made it to the sitting room with large beautiful windows that looked out into the vineyard.

"How do I get to where you are now?" I asked. She leaned forward and gently placed her hands on my shoulders.

"You have to go your own way. You have to let go." She gave me a kiss on the forhead and really intended to comfort me. But I just felt so confused.

I looked out the french doors into layers and layers of green hills. "Are you off the grid, here?" I always pictured myself in New York City, or some other bustling place where I could always meet people with ease and as often as I liked. Instead, my future self was sitting in a stone house in the middle of no where... alone.

She nodded and laughed a little, leaning back into the chair with her ankle crossed over her knee. I can't say she looked happy because she was so confident that it was beyond happiness. It was knowing.

"What do people call you by? What special name do you go by now?" I wondered.

"I have no name." Her lip curled and she half laughed as she and waved made the slightest of waves with her wrist.

I felt feeble and feminine and small, and this woman felt sturdy, masculine, and secure. "Why don't you look like me?" I asked, desperate for some clarity. Bodies change but faces tend to stay somewhat the same. My future self shared no resemblence.

"You're right. I don't look like you. But all of this is you. You will be strong, you will be at peace, you do want space and... no name. I am your future self." She leaned forward with assurance, but I was disappointed.

It was time to leave so I said my gratitude and stood to go.

I followed my blue beam back into space and then found a white light beam to take me to the present. Coming back into my body, I found that I did not have any answers but rather a call to action. I must let go. Everything I envisioned for myself till now could possibly be wrong. Or maybe I need to focus on not envisioning a place, a look, and name, but rather a feeling, and the rest will take care of itself.

I have to let go. But I don't know how to just yet.

When you're not good enough.

I had an experience yesterday where I saw an amazing artist working in the same position that I'm in for another company but doing a WAY better job.

I drooled over her work, gawked at the effortless quality and precision of her line work. Then I looked at my own drawings and saw the wobbly lines... and I freaked.

I have so much to learn!

"I'll never be as good as her. I don't draw enough. I can't figure out how to do that texture thingy- I mean what brush does that? And how does she get such clean lines? Grrraaaww!" The voices would not stop.

To celebrate this melt down I thought I would share some of my thoughts post-tantrum and a few shitty drawings. (I also drew them with my left hand so they are extra ugly.)

Ick.

I wrestled with this frustration for the rest of the day and almost got back into my old habits of retreating to my room and throwing pillows at the wall, then drawing for 3 hours to try and make up for lost time. But I didn't do that. It seems that in my older age I don't want to feel the self hatred anymore. I just want to get better at technique and at creating art because I LOVE doing it.

---

A friend shared a quote with me that didn't help me feel better, but reminded me that the frustration is there for a reason:

"Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through." - Ira Glass

We forget we're still pretty sweet and special sometimes.

T'was a wake up call.

It's time to break out the books and start learning some more skills, focus on tightning up the drawings, and experiment with technique.

I think another important message I revieced was this:

We cannot just better ourselves with classes and books, we have to remember to do the things we do because they speak to us, because our souls wants to live life through doing it (whatever that is). I doesn't matter if we're behind in some way, or if we can't draw like [insert favorite artist here]. Maybe we just draw or paint like outselves and pave a new road. It is a journey afterall. And the more skill you pick up, the more tools you have on your journey, but some of the most powerful tools are the ones that you find deep inside yourself, the place where only you can go and explore.

Happy heart.  Crappy art.

That said, I'm looking forward to taking some time to sit back and focus on skill building. It's been 5 years since college, and I haven't really given myself the opportunity to take a class. I love taking classes and I love picking up new tricks. I'm also going to draw something for myself and myself only every day to remind me of myself. A Self portrait, you might say. Today I drew three really ugly self portraits and I enjoyed every moment of it.

Love, Annie

Thoughts: new music

Kendrick Lamar's new album is madness.  So. Good. 

My favorite song (warning: explicit) is "For Free?" It's an interesting combination of jazz instrumentation underneath a smooth, syncopated flow.

Listen to "For Free?"

Traveling alone

I took a plane east last week, and landed for the first time in New York City. My backpack was filled with art supplies, several books that I stupidly thought I would get through, and my trusty notebook (Harriet the Spy anyone?)

It was my first time really traveling alone. I didn't know what to expect from New York. I was brimming with excitment to see such an iconic city, but at the same time utterly in knots because multiple people warned me to "stay out of allies" and "don't go out alone at night". Would I be safe traveling on my own? Was I going to get mugged... or worse?

But once I walked out my hotel the first morning and into the "fresh" air of Midtown, I felt my insides settle. It was exactly how I pictured it! Locals dressed in an unlikely combo of corporate work attire and bright nikes on their way to work. The markets on every corner had an array of the most interesting foods and plenty of vegan options to satisfy my breakfast rumblings. And the trees... the trees were all in bloom! I passed a couple parks on 5th avenue on my way toward Central Park, and I could feel that New York was going to treat me just fine.

I ate at vegan cafes and painted in every urban park I stumbled upon. I walked the highline, I stopped in the Chelsea market. I talked to some people playing chess about bullshit degrees that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I gawked at the designer window displayes like a kid in an 80's movie. I pretended I was a hippie, and pretended I was a New Yorker, then I pretended I knew where I was going, and I also let myself get lost. I preteneded I was Harriet the spy, writing down descriptions of Subway characters and rants I heard out on the street. But after all of this, I left New York for my humble apartment in Sunnyvale Calfiornia and felt the playful elation slip away.

It was non-stop bliss in New York, but when I came back I was forced to aknowledge everything I left behind for that week. I had errands to run, papers to fill out, bills to pay and work to do. I also had familiar questions about what I was doing with my spare time and where I was going. I was shaken up by noise and city lights, and now here I was, quiet and in the dark.

Get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

That's what I've learned. New York sent me on a wild ride, and I'm still trying to shake off the dizziness. Getting out of your comfort zone is not easy, but it's necessary. I know this, and yet...

I keep telling myself the dizziness will pass. It's a contant push and pull inside. A fight between young and old, but my older self doesn't like to listen. Deep breaths and long walks are common around here, which isn't a bad thing....

I guess I'll have to travel alone more often ;)

Cover...check!

I have to admit, I didn't have the energy to work on this cover painting until last week. The book has been finished for a year and a half, but I didn't know how to design the cover, and how or when the book would become a real thing...until now.

No asking friends for feedback on this one. I usually love feedback, and I have a reserve of special illustrators that are amazing at story and design, but I didn't ask anyone. I wanted to sit down with my firneds, the Nothing, Something, and the Everything, and have one last horrah. One last adventure in their world.

After all, there's no art director on this project. It's just me and all of you, so the cover, I did for me.

The cover painting without text

Next steps are finishing touches, some more layout, and prepping the files for print.

Here we go!