Back again

I'm sorry it has been quiet here for weeks. I had been feeling a little run-down for a long time, and then I just got to a point where I just couldn't see where I was going or where I intended to go. In other words, I had crawled into a rut.

I felt stressed and responded to the stress by eating unhealthily. I couldn't muster the will to exercise even for just a few minutes. I couldn't write, not even in my journal. Painting was out of the question. I really thought I had completely lost the will to create.

I'm slowly finding my way out. A few weeks ago, I decided to go for a run using the 'Get Running' app on my phone. I've been running regularly since. I've also rediscovered yoga and now meditate and stretch daily. I've also gone back to being a vegetarian and, having cut dairy and eggs out of my diet, will be a full-fledged vegan soon.

On my (ink-stained) desk: a bottle of coconut water to rehydrate after my run, and Isa Moskowitz's low-fat vegan recipe book, highly recommended by my friend E.

Last night, before I went to bed, I sat down with a pencil and my journal and just waited for a creative idea to come. Before I knew it, I was sketching away and planning new things to make—paintings, toys, clothes, stories. For the first time in many weeks, life is filled with possibilities again.

A sketch for a new project

Today, I'll make sure to do a bit of drawing and painting. And yes, there will be new posts coming to this blog soon too. See you around!

I've been meaning to write. . .

The inclination and the desire have been there all this time, but not the time until eventually, not the words either.

The real world—not just mine, but the one that envelopes us as well—has been quite harsh lately. Deaths and deadlines have been hanging over my head lately and I've been feeling drained. But! There have been wonderful moments as well—time spent with a dear friend and her beautiful family, workshops with some really cool kids, my kids with all their madness, noise and glee, unperturbed by the darkness.

I'm hoping to come back next week with a few new posts. I'll be writing about my workshops and my visit to the Peak District. Plus, there's a new Interview with an Artist and a tutorial in the works too.

'Bare'

UPDATE: I wrote the above last week as a reminder to myself that my little blog needs a little love and attention from me. Last week was horrific, what with the bombings in Boston that killed three people and maimed dozens more, the fertilizer plant explosion in Waco, Texas, and the grueling chase that led to one Boston bombing suspect dead and another seriously injured.

Did you stay up to monitor the news? Did you heart sink when you found out that the two suspects came to America when they were very young, that their roots were in that much-beleaguered place in the Caucasus—Chechnya? Did you feel sad when you heard friends describing the younger man as a 'lovely kid' who came across as your typical all-American boy? Did you feel sorry for their parents who until now are convinced that their sons were innocent? Did your heart fly out to their poor Uncle Ruslan as he shouted his anger and disappointment and apologies to the group of reporters asking him inane questions?

Did you feel guilty because no matter how terrible the act that they committed, you still felt sorry for them and you wanted so badly to find out what went wrong, how they could have possibly been failed by society, how they could feel so alienated as to cause wanton destruction and grief in the country that adopted them?

And how did you feel when some people expressed disbelief at how you could get so upset over something that killed 'just three people' when in that same week, hundreds of people died in Syria and Iraq? Did you feel assaulted by guilt again because somehow your grief (and consequently, your whole being) isn't big enough for every single person who suffers a violent death in this world?

I don't think we need to tell each other how to feel about things that happen around us. I do agree that there must be a way to make a stronger connection with people and events on the other side of the world. They may be far away from us and their suffering might not have an immediate impact on our everyday life, but this doesn't mean that their lives have a lower value. Every violent death is a great loss and a cause for sorrow, whether it's that of an eight-year-old boy in Boston or an eighty-year-old woman in Baghdad or a thirty-year-old man in Arakan.

It's our responsibility as members of this great big human community to try and know more about each other, whether we're in Chechnya or in India, to make the connection that helps us empathise with each other's lives and experiences. Let's read more, take a good look at the world around us and see what's happening, look inside ourselves and most importantly, reach out, especially to those who might be feeling isolated. It's a tall order, I know, but I think it's one important step on the road towards peace.

'A little madness in the Spring'

In that Spring seems to have decided to go into hiding. I'm just hoping that it will turn up soon.

In the meantime, I read poetry by Emily Dickinson (from which the titular phrase for this post was taken) and fiction by Aimee Bender.

I also draw birds.

This is a blue version of the long-tailed shrike. (It actually has black and white plumage.)

The Cebu flowerpecker, a beautiful and sadly endangered species found in the Philippines.

On another note, I need a good scanner. I'm finding it more and more difficult to reproduce the colours that I use in my paintings because of my fairly cheap scanner. Oh, and a nice printer that does borderless printing would be lovely too. Should I put those in my 40th birthday wish list?

Art and motherhood

Work in progress no. 128

Days measured in
                             school runs and after-school clubs
                             piles of laundry washed and ironed
                             rooms dusted and vacuumed
                             meals cooked and dishes washed
                             leaks plugged, drains unclogged
                             tantrums put up with
                             sleepless nights
                             cups of milk poured
                             food stains on the carpet
                             raised voices and subsequent tears
                             hugs offered and accepted
                             vain attempts to make a rainbow cake
                             endless negotiations
                             books read out loud
                             declarations of 'I love you, Mummy'
                                         and 'You're the worst mummy in the world'

                           (but never it seems in
                                  the books that I've read
                                  the paintings I get to finish
                                  my carvings and sculptures
                                  the marks I made on paper and fabric
                                  my prose and poetry)



I just had to write this before I go to bed. I am thinking of my friend E, who is struggling with sleep deprivation. Having a baby and a school-age child means you don't ever get to have a lie-in. I think this is something only other parents will ever really understand. All I can offer her right now is a virtual hug. Hang in there, E, things will get better soon.

Also, this film and this book on the challenges of being artsts-mothers have been calling out to me. I'm hoping I'll be able to watch the film with E soon.

This is Sofia's book in progress. She has decided that she will be a writer when she grows up. Yesterday she made two books, and today wrote another two. I am envious of her prolificacy.

Interview with an Artist: Minh Chau

Minh Chau
Image © Minh Chau

Minh Chau was born and raised in Vietnam but is now based in Oxford where she's studying towards a degree in Sequential Illustration.

Looking at her work, you can see straight away the influences of magic realism and literature on Chau. Her intricately detailed illustrations are explorations of feminine themes. It's amazing to see the level of confidence and maturity in her work, considering that she has only just turned 19!

Hello Chau, please tell us alittle about yourself. What sort of things makes you happy?

I am a Vietnamese who came toEngland in order to pursue art. Growing up in the rising economy of Saigon gave me great charisma and diligence, but studying abroad has rewarded me with maturity as well as boosting my creativity to the utmost.

My lifestyle is like a chocolate hazelnut latte (which is also my favourite drink), sweet and daring from the cream outside yet passionately bittersweet as you taste the coffee. I can enjoy the extreme glamour of attention while still loving the quietness in a cornerof a library. I treasure little things and take artistic inspiration from them, from rejoicing little talks with my mom on Skype, reading Toni Morrison and Carol Ann Duffy, to watching performances in glamorous London theatres.

Watching Indochine, Somersault, TheScience of Sleep, Amelie, The Red Balloon, 50s movies and short animations also keep me blissful at night. A cup of milky coffee and hugs from my stuffed monkey help, too! 

How did you get to be an illustrator? Is this something you've always wanted to do? Did you receive any encouragement from your parents, teachers, and other grown-ups around you?

Funny thing, I wanted to become a performer when I was a kid. However, since I was too shy, I soon grew out of it and preferred working behind the stage instead. Everything about the theatre has always captivated me and I dreamed of being a costume designer/scenographer. 

Ballerina Alphabet print
Image © Minh Chau

I actually went for it in my A-level project. But as my theater-designing hero John Conklin stated: “The (stage) design does not exist separate from the production. You must be looking at something that supports a group of actors performing in front of an audience.” Well, good—cooperation was never my thing. And that's how illustration came about, henceforth I get to both direct and act in my own creations.

Currently I am a second year student ina BA Sequential llustration course. [I get] huge support from my wonderful mother. She's also my number one fan, who gives me great advice and infinitely unconditional love, from almost six thousand miles away. 


 Who is/are your main influence(s)?

Part of a three-picture series called 'How to build your robot'

Image © Minh Chau

I can just [go on ] listing for days! Strange as it sounds, I actually don't take much influence from illustrators. I prefer looking at things differently, and expand my viewpoints through observing the whole picture.

I take inspiration from photography—it's a wondrous world of [make-believe] and transforming reality through the most truthful medium. My works are influenced by Angus McBean, Edward Steichen, Tim Walker and Annie Leibovitz.

My all-time muses: Gustav Klimt, Edgar Degas and John William Waterhouse. Within [the] illustration industry, Arthur Rackham and Shaun Tan are the artists I use as the standard [of] beauty set for contemporary illustration.

The sense of magic realism and subtlety in my art is also achieved through deciphering themes and visual arts in movies made by Hayao Miyazaki, Tim Burton, Michel Gondry and Wes Anderson.

Speaking of influences (and asking as a fellow Asianliving in the UK), how is your art influenced by your ethnic roots, if at all?

Contrastingly so, I had a long rebellion against manga. In Vietnam, you won't be able to find a single European graphic novel, apart from Tintin and The Smurfs. Henceforth, my art style was completely manga-ky. It was two years ago when I decided to renounce that specific style and move on to a more realistic, personal approach.

Early manga work by Chau
Image © Minh Chau

However, now I am ready to look back at my oriental roots and have fallen in love with the ancient Japanese prints.  Asians are also obsessed with melancholic/longing themes, shown in most [of] Yasunari Kawabata's and Haruki Murakami's novels, which I exclusively enjoy.

Oh, and we Asians are born with [an] innate[ly good] work ethnic, which is a very positive thing!

What's your life like, being an art student? Do you enjoy school or are there aspects of it that you find difficult?

'Don't let go of the mockingbird'
Image © Minh Chau

Unpredictably fascinating, in short. I have a gift of finding the interesting in the most boring things, so every lecture is like an adventure for me. I'm particularly good at presentation and 2D illustrations. I do struggle with specific briefs that require the standardised style I'm not entirely comfortable with, expressionistic painting and collage for instance. But I learn a great deal from them. I get to bury myself in books, absorb new ideas and mess my room up for experimentation. I've come to perceive that philosophy [plays] a significant role in art history, as every art movement is formed in order to rebel against the previous [one]. Therefore, I also strive to experiment and explore unfamiliar subjects and mediums, [which] distinguish my art from many others'.

Where you do draw when you get the inspiration to do so?

In an A5 sketchbook. I admire artists who can draw on absolutely everything, from tickets, receipts to photocopy paper, etc.—it's just not my thing. I want my journal and creative ideas to be clear and precise, so I can reuse them when I feel ready.

A few sketches from Chau's journal

Image © Minh Chau

Which illustration tools can you not live without?

Bristol boards, a set of Derwent pencils, blending tools and a rubber. Some colour pencils stocked in my case come in handy, too.

'She whispers with hope, transcending above and away'
Image © Minh Chau

 Can you describe your creative process—how does an idea get transformed into an artwork?

An editorial illustration featuring Roald Dahl
Image © Minh Chau

Sounds obvious, but my process is like that of Arthur Rackham. I start with [a] pencil sketch, try working out the composition and angles—this may take up to a few sketches. When I'm happy with it, I can then outline it with [a] thicker pencil line. What comes after is a mental job. First, I block a light layer of acrylic on the page. This keeps the image a subtle background colour (in case I want to leave some areas blank, they wouldn't look too bland or unfinished). After that, I start adding shadows and colours using acrylic and colour pencils. The image keeps [getting] layered up until I am satisfied with the result.

However, some of the latter steps can be eliminated if I solely want a straightforward pencil illustration. Once finished, fixative is used to keep my works clean and glossy.

 Do you ever get artist's block? What do you do to get over it?

I think every artist/illustrator has dealt with this problem. To me, it's not exactly the creativity's block, but the hazard in achieving the overall harmonious composition. A walk to the nearby playground and setting myself free on the swing keep me off the stress.Then I come back, start doodling down ideas, arrange random compositions, and bring them together afterward. 

'Je ne suis une clown pas!'
Image © Minh Chau

Additionally, I always have a folder of selective reference images and a writing journal to keep myself fully inspired. Reading poetry and magic realist novels [stimulates] my creativity exceedingly, too.

How do you market your talent and skills, especially in a tough economy such as ours?

I started with a Behance portfolio, and do recommend young illustrators to carefully select the suitable accountand  get the maximum use out of it. Don't be greedy and open like 5 accounts on different art sites that lead your works to be scatter[ed] and unfocused.

A blog and [a] Facebook page are perfect for me to showcase my progress and random sketches. However, what I find with Facebook is that it forces you to be very competitive and commercial. The former is good, but the latter may ruin your uniqueness and creativity. As I once went crazy for the “getting more likes” stuff, a friend of mine commented that my works resembled [those of] the American pop-surrealist movement—and that was a wake-up call! Yes, I want to get noticed, but not [for a] “oh it's so pretty but has no content” type of art. My works need to speak for themselves, and they must please me before pleasing the crowd. 

A picture inspired by the tale of the Little Mermaid
Image © Minh Chau

I know a Vietnamese illustrator called Turine Tran, whose distinctive works can easily get her to the top but she stays on the ground. She travels a lot, experiments with a range of art categories and works for small publications that make her happy, and unique, instead of going for the mass audience.

At the moment I don't accept many commissions, despite some great offers, due to the amount of college work. However, to attract audiences, I would recommend sending your portfolios to different art-promoted websites, joining lots of competitions. I also exhibit and sell my art in local galleries. These increase my chances of getting spotted. 

 How do you visualise yourself 5, 10 years from now?

Life is unpredictable and I believe that's the beauty of it. I want it to lead me to those unexpected paths that I will discover and along the way, I shall always do things at my very best. So I can't really bring out the answer for this question. Only one thing for certain though: I will never stop drawing. 

'Puberty of a bluestocking'
Image © Minh Chau

You can find Chau in these places:

• Her website
• Her blog
• Behance
• Facebook

Find me some blank spaces

I am constantly amazed at how quickly a space gets filled up. I spent the morning putting unwanted, unneeded things in the loft. But as soon as they were out of sight, other things took their place. It's all my doing, of course. I like having a blank space to work with, but my tendency to overdo things means that I make things a lot faster than I can free up space to accommodate them.

(I made a makeshift mini-bookcase out of an empty cardboard box so I can put my journals, work notebooks, tools of the editing/writing trade, as well as my current reading pile together on my desk. Obviously it's not big enough. Sigh.)

I have a lot of paintings. The watercolours are okay, because I keep them in a folder. It's the canvas paintings that have been spilling out into the nooks and crevices of our house. And even when I don't have enough time to paint, I find myself doodling a lot.

In my attempt to organise my creative output, I decided to doodle on something other than scrap paper. As it happens, I have a pack of colourful little doilies. These were today's doodles, tacked with washi tape to the wall above my desk.

Oh dear. See how much space they've taken up already? So . . . where do I put tomorrow's doodles? And the next day's? 

Here they are up close, in case you're curious to see them (apologies for the less-than-ideal lighting):

Tomorrow I will be featuring a wonderful young artist in Interview with an Artist. Please make sure to check this site to find out who she is!

Less and More

I had a lazy sort of weekend. I think waking up at 3 a.m. on Saturday left my mind and body out of whack. It had been a very grey weekend, with a fair bit of snow and sleet.

I did manage to do a lot of reading and thinking and planning though, in between helping the kids with their homework and arbitrating their arguments. My mind has been buzzing a lot lately—I have plenty of things I'd like to do. Put simply, I'd like to do everything. I want to declutter and redecorate my house, tidy up the garden and put new flowers in, learn Japanese and French, transfer all these lovely ideas in my head into paintings, make accessories and toys and bags and clothes, write prose and poetry, teach, volunteer my time (what time?) to spreading the gospel of microfinance, travel around the country and Europe. The possibilities are endless and most of the time, they are thrilling. Most of the time, they spur me on.

There are times, though, when I find them too overwhelming. Where do I start, how do I prioritise? Is what I'm doing now what I should actually be doing, or should I concentrate on something else on the list first? Sometimes the possibilities can actually be paralysing. I end up not finishing anything and the resulting frustration and anger can just be a little too much to bear.

I'm trying to focus on doing a little bit less at a time by allowing gaps between projects and trains of thoughts.  I'm hoping that by doing less for the time being, I'll be able to accomplish more in the long run.

Here's a poem brought on by my lethargic bouts this weekend:

You say you don’t understand why

these snow flurries in March

do not infuriate me        

Here’s a confession:

                Nature’s transgressions

                                no longer shock me

                They just leave me

                                                                tired.

I have thought, and worked, and walked and walked,

                and bravely offered up my questions

                                but the clouds swallowed them whole

                Now there are holes in my shoes

                                and my mind is stale.

The ice on the ground does not faze me

This anomaly

                is my quilt, let it cover me

Let sleep take over,

                leave my body in its clasp

Don’t wake me up

                until you’ve plucked out the answers

                                                                from the motes in the sun beams

                should they ever find their way in again

                                                                                               at all.

I'm a bit rusty, I know, but I'm posting it here anyway because I need to push myself to keep writing. I've been writing stories and maybe someday I'll go back and resurrect my stillbirth of a novel. The possibilities are infinite, after all.