jaeleslie

In my bookmaking class at the calligraphy conference we learned a new way to describe doing things with skill and forethought. "Like a smart guy did it." It is also useful when you mess something up. Ruefully, Not like a smart guy did it.

I like this because it recognizes that being smart is not an innate characteristic but may come & go like a visitation of the gods.

Two months with Not Much To Do stretch ahead of me, so yesterday I spent hanging out with Number One Son, talking about guitar playing and the use of combs which have quite gone out of practice and admiring his new red car; then shopping for lacy underwear, making dinner, and then watching another three hours of the third season of Six Feet Under.

So today instead of catching up on my extraordinarily organized program to write apa comments a little at a time every day (which worked fine for the first three days and then crashed), I am going to the State Fair. The chestnut horses are even now pulling my royal carriage into the drive.

Not much, you?

Besides the supply store and the bookstore that run all week, and the special paper and supply dealers that come in for a trade show for the first three days, the calligraphy conference always sends you home with lots of free doodads. This year was particularly rich in doodads. Besides the nice canvas freebie bag I have a new broadedge Schaeffer fountain pen and a pot of bright red Speedball acrylic ink to try out. And someone has invented a sharpener for those rectangular carpenter's pencils, who woulda thunk?

But the real bonanza was on Tuesday, when we had an afternoon off for touring and/or rest. In the central student commons, curiously named the Goshen Lounge, several committees had arranged an event called the World's Fair of Calligraphy, in recognition of the centennial of St Louis' Louisiana Purchase Centennial Exposition of 1904. There was an ice cream stand (waffle cones were invented at the St Louis fair), a labyrinth walk, and various demonstrations of Arabic calligraphy, Japanese papermaking, and so forth.

Besides all this, the Utah and Idaho calligraphy societies had organized an astonishing combination workshop they called Around the World in Eighty Minutes, although it turned out to be more like Around the World in Two and Half Hours. First you got a polaroid passport photo taken, which was attached inside a little passport booklet that included information on each station and was stamped at each location, handed a bag of mysterious goodies, and then guided in groups of ten through eight different workshop stations that each presented samples of the historical scripts of different countries. Some of the projects that we then attempted to complete in ten minutes involved far too much threading of needles and beading for ladies of a certain age who had forgotten their glasses. But a surprising number of them turned out very well. The organizers and presenters (who ended up lecturing several hundred people over the course of the afternoon and evening) we thanked as warmly as possible at every turn.

At the Egyptian exhibit, we copied sample heiroglyphs with reed pens onto bits of papyrus. At the Norway table, we tried out wood-burning (entirely new to me) of runes onto little lapel pins with a particularly well-thought-out glued backing. For China, we designed and cut name stamps, surprisingly fast, to stamp a prepared scroll. The Indian project was perhaps overly ambitious, an embossed copper bookmark, and like several other stations there we learned very little about the Sanskrit script. At the Roman table, we were given bits of vellum that had been silkscreened (with a Gocco printer) with a decorative capital letter for another bookmark that we then filled with color illumination, brushes and pans of paint all set out ready for us. But the generous preparations that had gone into the event were simply astonishing. We generally failed to execute proper cuneiform letters at the Sumerian table, but playing with the red clay tablets and the wrapping provided for subsequent transport was fun. And although I learned nothing useful about Hebrew at the Israel table, and the gear didn't historically have much to do with it, I was utterly amazed to receive there a real wax tablet, for making notes, very much like the one I had seen in the British Museum. Only new.

I didn't do much writing on people at the conference this year. However I did take the body paints along. I painted on Brenda, who runs the onsite art supply store, Paper & Ink, and her daughter Jane. Brenda never gets to go to any events because she is busy keeping the store open until all hours, and last year she missed it when I wrote on lots of people, which I was sorry about. It took a couple of days for her to decide on a word she wanted on her arm: Delight. Her daughter Jane chose Wonder. (As long as I had the gear along I wrote on my own arm "I am always writing writing" as usual, Gertrude Stein doncha know). It turned out that these particular arms were a pretty high-profile location to place my writing, since everybody hangs out between events in the dealers' room looking at art supplies and stuff. And as it turned out someone took a photo of Brenda's arm that was shown in the slideshow at the closing ceremony, that I missed because I was crashed out on a sofa upstairs.

For the participants' exhibit, which is an annual feature of the conference, I took a bunch of stuff, which I assembled the first day into a display on a large piece of pale green paper, attached to the wall with amongst everybody else's stuff with lots of sellotape and thumbtacks. People at the calligraphy conference often write in decorative fashion about the power of literacy and the alphabet, but I wanted to show what I do with my calligraphy as a contribution to my community, besides making things that hang on the wall for sale. Of course I had to include an explanatory gallery note on the distinction between the two different kinds of FANWRITING I was thus boldly presenting to an unfannish audience. Writing By Fans: The calligraphic artwork for Chunga that I had been working on just before I left -- a quote from Dunsany, appearing someday Real Soon in mailboxes near you -- and a copy of the earlier issue Chunga 6 in which I had made titles for Randy's TAFF report; and Writing On Fans, a lot of photos from WisCon of the people I wrote on there. For explanatory purposes, I called this "Bodypaint on friends at WisCon (feminist science-fiction convention at Madison WI in May 2004), as fundraiser for authors' website Broad Universe". That's it in brief: it was a small gallery card.

By the end of the week I found out that the person sitting next to me in class reads SF, with a particular interest in alternative gender roles, and had heard of the Tiptree Award though not of WisCon; and two people in my class were fascinated with my explanation of the gift ethic of traditional fanzines and asked particularly to be on my mailing list. Hmm. Must send them email with LiveJournal link.

China Mieville was at Borders tonight for a reading. I thought it would be a good chance to see Julie Z whose life has gotten unspeakably busier. The parking lot was full, and most all of the chairs on the second floor. He was of course tremendously interesting and entertaining and thoughtful as a speaker, and the audience questions were not bad either. The line for signing formed very neatly around the music section and I went to sit on the windowsill and visit with people, and later sat around and talked. It seems I don't get out much in town lately.

I was telling olivia_circe about the campus the calligraphy conference was on. It was a very new campus, SIU at Edwardsville in Illinois across the river from St Louis, and the grounds went on and on like a small city and in our driving around we actually found a sign for a Chamber of Commerce on one of the buildings scattered among athletic fields. The dorm where we were housed was even further away from the student center than the last time we used this campus in 1997. And the hill we had to walk up was bigger. No, it wasn't my imagination. I heard the old dorm was being treated for a mold problem, so this was actually a different one. It took a few days to work that out, and I had a histamine reaction going on every morning anyway, so this was probably a sick building too or at least coming down with something. Our rooms were on the third floor, way at the end of a long hall that kind of bent and then around a corner down another long hall. This made it a very long way for me to walk to the refrigerator we found on the other end of the first floor where I could put my ice packs. Everything was very clean and spiffy, and we only had to share the bathroom with Chris & Mary Jo who were in the next room. We had the Kafka view out of our window, of a lawn surrounded by identical wings of the dorm. And we had to walk up this very big hill, a third of a mile (Marcia measured it with her pedometer) at least twice a day. And back. I tried going back to the room for a lie down one day during lunch break, but by the time I walked down and back it was a completely pointless exercise so after that I just found a comfy sofa in the student commons area near my classroom and lay down there on breaks.

Unfortunately I was still unable to do all the activities I wanted to in the evenings. I missed the lecture on Islamic calligraphy that I particularly wanted to see, and the multimedia play about Esther Inglis who was a 17th century Huguenot calligrapher, and the very long slide presentation about the progress of work on the St John's Bible which is nearing completion. I also missed the entire exhibit of the Oregon Book Artists Guild which was in the library building. Later I will have to tell about all the stuff I did do.

I breakfasted in my room, as I have always found breakfast with 400 people kind of overwhelming, and then walked up the hill for my class. Lunch was in the same building. After class (which invariably lasted an extra half hour) I walked down the hill, picked up my ice pack, and went upstairs to lie down with it against my back for an hour. My roommate gave me a glass of wine (which was strictly speaking not allowed in the dorm) and we had a little goat cheese and rice crackers and all talked talked talked about everything that had happened that day, and then I had to walk up the hill again for dinner. The food service was not as bad as we had feared. There was usually a reasonable salad or two, plenty of somewhat overcooked vegetables, slabs of protien in various nonobjectionable sauces, and an occasional rice pilaf. I managed to refrain from the desserts every day except for that one square of chocolate cake.

Back from conference. That's the international calligraphy conference for those of you who forget where we left our protagonist. Actually we were back on Saturday by four o'clock in the afternoon, and I was so wiped out that my eyes started crossing somewhere on the big highway in northern Illinois, so we changed drivers again and I couldn't help Marcia with much of the driving after that. I've been sleeping. Unpacking. Stepping down the pain meds, maybe too fast. Have I complained about the weather yet?

Trying to get the cooking, shopping and homemaking components of my life back online, so I haven't yet actually unpacked my new supplies, acquisitions and works.

Yesterday I got my hair cut very very short. It had reached that terrible stage of growing out where the white part underneath showed through in a little spot on the top of my head, and the brown color had turned orangey. So my hair guy cut it so there are only little tips of brown on the top. Very very very short. I put lots of hair goop in it to spike it so no one will think I had a horrible accident with a razor. No, I did this on purpose.

I can't figure out if no one at the gym was making eye contact with me before, or if this is new. The boys only look at me when the weights I lift are annoying large. It must be scary for the girly girls in their pink workout togs. However there was another woman with a dyke haircut who did.

Also Mr S got me my own cellphone. Now to learn to use it. Everyone needs a hobby.

I cannot recall when I have had such a tranquil preparation for the international calligraphy conference. Either it is the drugs, or the fact that I have been using the calendar to plan what to do each day in preparation. Yesterday I actually finished writing the apazine due this week.

Today I finally got some homework done in preparation, that the teacher for the workshop I am taking had suggested -- always room for more preparation, but at least I have done a bare minimum. For description of class see http://www.confluence2004.org/faculty/moore.htm

Then I went to the gym. And found sunglasses for driving. Now I am starting in on tomorrow's laundry and packing.

We are leaving Saturday morning, five artists, two vehicles, more art supplies that you might imagine we will need (considering there will be more for sale at the con), and a case of wine. Woo-hoo! It's down in Illinois, a half hour this side of St Louis.
www.confluence2004.org

Today I have been sitting around reading and taking it easy. Seems lately I am one day busy and then one day collapsing. Where were we? I am working through an ever-lengthening list of things I would like to have done before I go to the calligraphy conference next week. Today it was mostly finishing library books, which strictly speaking was not on the list.

Maureen McHugh's Nekropolis is well worth reading if you are interested in my opinion of such things. Interesting view of a future Morocco, and reflection on the emotional conditions of human servitude. One might compare it to Grimwood's Eliskandria trilogy, but McHugh's style is less cyberpunk, more classically realist (a la Zola's Human Condition), and I mean that in a good way, although I realize tastes differ. Also Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis is a moving autobiography of growing up in modern Iran, a very quick read in graphic novel form.

Did I tell you about the visit to Whitewater? last Thursday, oh dear probably not. Not one but two old friends to see. I found Victoria's new house and we were unable to catch up on everything although it was good to visit, after a couple of decades. We are involved in plotting the reunion in August of the half-dozen people we really want to see out of the whole high school, and she has big landscaping plans in the meantime. Then I also saw Barb, who is of course still sick, still on IV nourishment, down to 100 pounds or so and that includes the swelled-up leg. Beautiful drive down and back, and I picked up some sweet corn from a farm stand.

What else. Very elaborate plan yesterday had shifted from going to the play with the usual suspects to going to the play with a completely different posse and dinner afterward, which after a couple bottles of wine turned into surprise! a meeting (of the calligraphers guild revolutionary cabal). Saw Othello at American Players Theater. This is just the kind of place where I ought to hyperlink some further discussion. However there is chicken in the oven and two kinds of salad to make and green beans to prepare for steaming too so I will bid you all a fond au revoir.