Jan Avellana | Hazelnut Cottage

washington d.c. and chicago: part 2

{crystal neubauer + me :: longrove, il 2011}

on my way home from d.c. i managed invite myself get invited for a short stay at crystal neubauer’s in chicago. our friendship began online with a brief etsy convo i sent to crystal, in june of 2009. having seen some of her encaustic work, and then her blog, i knew i had “met” a kindred spirit! from that simple note has grown a friendship—a sisterhood—that now spans more than 3,700 miles and about as many emails! we are, in fact, modern day pen pals :)!

chicago is a beautiful city. it was my first trip ever to chicago, and God willing, not my last. we meandered through the city streets and i was struck by the simple beauty of the city—the changing colors of the leaves, the crisp air of autumn, the ivy covered brownstones and gas lit porch lights welcoming their owners home in lincoln park. (i have already picked out my brownstone!!!!! oh!)

and of course we ate (and ate, and ate). for the record, i had just ONE of these gourmet cupcakes and washed it down with a nice steamy cup of hot cocoa. yum!!!

the time we spent was simple, relaxed and filled with so much sweet laughter. it was dream-like to spend time with crystal in her studio—which by the way, is stocked to the gills with the bestest “stuff” an artist could have! artists need “stuff” you know...

and we shopped in the city for bit, and hung out leisurely in a magical place called longrove. the shops here are made up of clusters of historic homes turned into shops and restaurants. it was such a special time...i know i sound as if i’m gushing and i guess i am!

and time just to enjoy each other’s goofy company. like when i accidentally knocked the pickle off crystal’s superdawg and tried to wipe it off (sorry!) and when she gamely tried a local hawaii snack called li hing mui—a salted preserved plum—an acquired taste to be sure! silly things like that. you know, we had a chance just to be girls again.

thank you for answering my convo crystal!!! who knew? here’s to coming to visit me in hawaii!!! any takers?!

washington d.c. and chicago: part 1

{me, freezing in 50ish degree weather}

any trip that starts off with a performance of the kennedy center showing of les miserables 25th anniversay tour is going to be a GREAT trip indeed...and it was!!! what a moving and emotional musical—i was in tears. i had seen it three times before, and i was still in tears! keith and i (below) caught the show on the last day of it's d.c. run and i still cannot believe we were able to experience this once in a lifetime performance. it was magical.

{top: strained yogurt and apples at agora mediterranean restaurant
middle: keith, a hawaii friend, now a war college student in d.c. and my d.c. companion for day 1
bottom: propolis ice cream, fresh organic honeycomb and honey cake dessert at the fairmont hotel}

and of course, i ate (and ate...) the food in d.c. is awesome! so many wonderful restaurants; i must return with my boys just to eat!

{me and my 91 year old uncle, masanori hongo (military intelligence service) at the capitol for the congressional medal of honor ceremony}

but the real reason i went, was to attend the congressional medal of honor ceremony that was being held to honor the all japanese american veterans of world war II who served in the 100th/442nd/MIS. i have been ignorant of my own history and my father’s sacrifice for so long. i learned so much about the huge impact these men (and my father) had on blessing our country and how their unselfish acts brought honor to every single japanese american who ever shall live.

{japanese american memorial in d.c.}

there are just no words of gratitude that are enough. the only way i feel i could possibly say “thank you” is to keep their stories and legacy alive, beginning with my father.

my dad couldn’t make the trip, so i felt compelled to go and bring the medal home for him...

{the congressional medal of honor awarded to the men of the 100th battalion, 442nd regimental combat team and the military intelligence service}

there were a million reasons not to go—it costs too much money, i have little ones, my husband would have to take off of work for a week, i have a job to report to and i’ll have to take off of work too, (did i say it costs too much money?!)...

...and one reason to go. i am so glad i went.

thanksgiving.

{ crystal neubauer + me :: longrove, il 2011 }

danni over at “oh hello, friend” is posting a list of 10 grateful things. here are the things i am grateful for today:

1. my sweet, healthy, mischevious, inquisitive children

2. my husband of 18 years

3. dear friends in hawaii that love me just as i am

4. dear friends on the mainland, in japan, france and online that enfold me into their lives everyday

5. for the tribe of indie artists that i belong to

6. for God who loves me, unfathomably

7. the sea

8. hearty, teary, can't catch my breath laughter

9. art

10. for the japanese americans in the 100th battalion/442nd regimental combat team/MIS/522nd field artillery battalion who fought so bravely as young men, so that my children and i would have a heritage and a history we could be proud of.

a happy and blessed thanksgiving to you...

i believe in little things.

 

do you remember this from sesame street, back in the 1970’s? i don’t know why, but all of a sudden this song kept playing over and over again in my head. tonight, childhood memories wash over me as i sit here, working in the studio. maybe it will bring you warm fuzzies too.

my baby is 5 today.

{ cody :: november 2006, about one week old }

dear cody,

mama’s baby...you are turning 5 years old today. how did the time go by so fast? i must've taken hundreds of pictures of you as a baby, but why oh why didn’t i take more? if i had known then that they only way to 'freeze' you as a baby was through pictures, and that i really would forget all those magical (and not so magical) in between moments, i would have surely taken thousands upon thousands of photos of your sweet face.

you were such a quiet baby, rarely ever fussed, rarely ever cried for a thing. i would always tell you, “it’s okay to cry and ask for what you need.” i remember that i would have to make a thoughtful effort to pick you up and snuggle with you just to bond; you were so content to sit or lie by yourself, play by yourself, and then fall quietly to sleep, all by yourself! imagine a baby who fusses for milk, and then falls asleep eating! imagine a baby who fusses to be carried, then actually stops crying! imagine a baby who falls asleep all by himself...that was you!  (never has there been such a stark contrast between brothers!)

of course, now, you are making up for all that quietness with 24-7 talking, question asking, laughing, fussing, singing and your vintage sesame street skits with your brother! you crack us up every single day cody; we don’t know where you get your material!

where oh, where would i be without you and your brother?! i, who was quite certain i didn’t want to be a mama. (shows you just how much i think i know!!!)

thank you for making me a mama again, one last time. thank you for telling me that God looks like pink sprinkles. thank you for adding your laughter to our family, my little eggy. your dada, your babu (cody-speak for brother) and your mama love you something fierce.

xoxo

onward: fighting resistance.

today, after two naps (and truth be told, a day off), i am feeling much stronger than i did yesterday. i usually hold fast to julia cameron’s the artist’s way as a means of support, but yesterday and today i whipped out one of the big guns: steven pressfield’s, the war of art:

“He knows if he caves in today, no matter how plausible the pretext, he’ll be twice as likely to cave in tomorrow. The professional knows that Resistance is like a telemarketer; if you so much as say hello, you’re finished. The pro doesn’t even pick up the phone. He stays at work.”

today, i chose to take stock of some of the art i created this year:

i have explored many different media, from encaustic,

to pastels,

to acrylic, to collage and mixed-media...

and it dawned on me, that i created 99% of these pieces in the quiet solitude of my late night studio visits, with swaths of time to play, and while supported by a group of fellow creatives that met weekly for the last year or two.

i have none of these things now. zero studio hours with the solitude i need (i sleep in the wee hours now), the snippets of time i have are used for tending to my jewelry business...and my weekly artgroup folded...did i tell you that? yes, it folded quietly (it was time), and i didn’t realize how much our gatherings served to help keep me going forward and how i haven’t really grieved over it.

should it be any wonder artmaking has been such a struggle lately?

so here i go. onward. to clean up my studio (again) so that i can make more art. to form a new artgroup, a new group to love and to receive from. to make art and to connect even when it’s hard. to try again.

on losing my voice.

somehow, i have lost my voice. the things that used to come so easily and readily, the things i used to hunger for and relish--a blog post, a painting, interacting with so many dear friends online—these loves are nearly gone. i don’t know what happened, don’t know how i lost my way, but i have and it saddens me to no end. i can't seem to pick up a pen or a brush—not even to journal or sketch—...it’s just...gone.

really, i am at a loss.

there is so much in here, so much i could say, so much i could make art about, but the only voice i seem to hear these days is, “what’s the use?”

i know the only way back is to show up in the studio and play and make a mess and write with abandon without regard for how my offerings will be received, or even, if they will be received at all. i know the way back is to connect even when it's painful, even when i feel i have nothing to add to the conversation...i know i have to keep on.

so here is a blog post, on my once beloved blog. it is hard to sit here and write, harder still to click on that 'publish' button. but i write because i must and because the saner part of me knows that you will understand, that many of you have been there too, and there is a flicker of hope that i will survive this winter and that spring awaits me once more.