Reading, lately...

I'm a constant reader, usually in the middle of at least three books, left either in a teetering stack on my bedside table, or around the house for easy pick-up-and-read afternoon action. We have a (sometimes too large) library of beloved books, are active library users, and borrow books from friends. Here are a few of the titles I've been reading, wading through, or lingering in, the last while.

Over the years together, N has given me many gifts, left love notes, hidden surprises, small gestures and large ones. Many of his gifts have been books, because he knows me. For Valentines Day this year N gave me a copy of Home Comforts: The Art & Science of Keeping House by Cheryl Mendelson. Yeah, yeah, he gave his new wife a huge book on how-to-be-a-good-housewife for Valentine's Day. And it was so perfect; his comment when gifting the book was basically "don't take this the wrong way, I just know you'll love this." And of course I have; I love home. I love being at home, keeping a clean, warm and comfortable home, inviting guests into my home, I love it all. I've been luxuriating in slowly making my way through this bible of house keeping, and have found myself referencing sections for guidance on various household tasks I confront (like getting a stain out of a lace tablecloth, or cleaning Venetian blinds). The book also comes up in conversation pretty frequently; a friend was over recently and saw it on the table, and said "Oh, is this book you keep talking about?" Guilty. It's great; we have a few reference books and how-to's on the shelf, but this is one that I will reference for the rest of my life, and will gladly share with anyone who's curious.

A friend loaned me his copy of Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, and I'm slowly making my way through it. It took me a few tries to get through the first third of the book, but after putting it down and leaving it several times, I'm solidly in the second half, and am chugging along with moderate interest. Although I don't usually tend towards historical fiction, I enjoy it, and enjoy the complicated politics of court intrigue (one aspect of the Song of Ice and Fire that's so engaging). But damn, is this book hard to follow. After all those put-down-and-pick-back-ups, I kind of realized that it's Mantel's writing style that's so whirling; sure, the  rapid name dropping of dozens of players can be tricky to follow, but more it's her tendency to not use names in rapid fire dialogue, particularly in scenes with multiple characters. Like, maybe there's a few dudes having a loaded conversation about Anne Boleyn in a room full of other dudes who may or may not chime in at any moment, all of whom have extremely differing and specific stakes in the conversation and political climate. It would be helpful, then, to know who's throwing which bomb of court gossip into the mix, yeah? Oof. Despite that, I'm more or less into it now, as the plot picks up, the stakes get higher, and I increasingly understand the author's style. This won't become a book that I reread, but has been a nice contrast to the other fictional worlds my mind has been living in recently.

For our first anniversary, N gave me a copy of The Paper Garden by Molly Peacock. Another killer gift for me, and for our 'paper' anniversary, this memoir slash biography slash art history book weaves the life of Mary Delaney (the inventor, essentially, of modern collage) and her creation of a new art form late in life, with the author's own experience in marriage, art, and midlife. It was an absolutely beautiful read, and I devoured it. Mrs. D, as Peacock affectionately calls her, was an artist in the purest sense of the word. She seems to have lived more fully - through an incredible life in the eighteenth century - by finding artistic outlets in all corners of her world. Through gardening, collecting, letter writing, music, paper cutting and watercolor, she created thoughtful beauty around her for herself and for her loved ones. The titular paper garden that this book frames itself around is her Flora Delanica, a massive collection of botanically-correct cut-paper flowers, pasted layer after layer onto black paper. They are glorious. Astounding. So. fucking. beautiful. The book itself is lovely; mostly gracefully (sometimes a little heavy handed, but it's forgivable) weaving analysis of the cut-paper-collages with biography (layering both personal and historical relevance into the flowers). It manages to be so many things at once, and all together an engaging, forward moving story of one woman's incredible life and impact.

Through the Looking Lens

[ streets ]

[ wandering views ]

A few images from my day in Phildelphia. With very little money to spend and no one with me, I barely spoke all day, and wandered the city center for hours. The one thing I did splurge on (other than lunch) was a visit to the College of Physicians Mütter Museum, where photography was not allowed. The museum was fascinating, super crowded, and creeped me the fuck out. I have a pretty high tolerance for the macabre, but this was like a slow build of squick. After an hour and a half my head was spinning, my stomach felt densely queasy, and I sped through the last room (which was the most grotesque, natch).  

[ microscopic watercolors c. 1835 ]

Easily my favorite experience of the day was stumbling upon/into an exhibit at the American Philosophical Society called "Through the Looking Lens" - an installation in a single tiny room off the sidewalk of the works of Cornelius Varley, a naturalist, scientist, and painter. The collection of his watercolors at APS (above) ranged from dreamy landscapes to pastoral portraits to depictions of plant matter as seen through his microscope. Swoon.

Stepping into Varley's work was lovely. The reminder that we must make our own work, for ourselves, for our passions, to pursue a question or a fascination, regardless of recognition or immediate impact, was a necessary source of self-reflection. I think about what we leave behind when I think of N's journals; dozens of books filled with his thoughts, processes, drawings and charts, only ever seen by him (and occasionally me, over his shoulder). All of it is vital, for him - some of it is brilliant. Two hundred years from now, will his journals be on display to be studied and inspire? Or will they pass to our children, or to thrift, or be lost in a fire? Does it matter? His love of them and his studious commitment to this kind of private art makes an immediate impact on his own life, and on mine.

What's amazing to me then is to think that everyone has that potential for some private brilliance. Sometimes we're witness to it, but overwhelmingly not. Any person, every person - that bus driver or neighbor or dude yelling in the street - has their own collection of microscopic watercolors.

Summer

Hello!* This has been a summer of constant work and travel. I left my day job at the end of May, for various reasons, and have not yet replaced it. Despite my unemployment, however, I've been working and traveling practically nonstop since mid-May. Back to back (to back) projects this spring means that really, I've been ON since February. The few travels for pleasure have been welcome - last weekend four days in Denver (my first time to CO) with my two oldest friends, celebrating an engagement, a move, a new home - as I can anticipate the next few months being as full as the last few. 

The East Coast has got me this summer. Massachusetts > New York > Pennsylvania > NYC > Van > Vermont. Throw in Oregon and Colorado, and the days at home in Seattle have been like desperate grabs for comfort and lakes and friends and rose on the back porch. Evening walks through the neighborhood with N. My garden. Oh my goodness, the garden. Stillness, and solace . 

Friday night N and I arrived in Swarthmore, PA for the National Puppet Festival (r)evolution. He's in meetings Saturday through Monday, so I've been left to my own devices. Saturday I jumped on the train into Philadelphia** and today have wandered the campus. And this campus .. seriously - it is spectacular. Any snobbery I have about the beauty of my own alma mater has been shut the hell down - especially without a map or guide, my day was spent trying doors and sometimes discovering weird pockets of beauty and even more campus. I could do it again tomorrow, with a camera this time?

* It's been a cool minute since I visited this space. Recent reinvestment in certain artistic outlets nudged me to open it up and begin again. Hoping. 

** On that note, a day spent alone in Phillie re-enforced the need to find/make space for myself. Somehow, yesterday became all about watercolors, and suddenly the whole year has been about watercolors, sneakily. More on this later.