The Ticket, by Corey Godbey

from Cory Godbey of Portland Studios, via Uncle Beefy

I love this. This is a trailer for a picures-only illustrated book, published by Portland Studios.

I don't know what I want more...the book, a ship that can fly through the night skies, a magic top hat, or all of it.

Oliver +S

Oliver + S Tea Party Sundress and bloomers

I forget how I got there, but I recently came across Oliver+ S. They make the most adorable patterns for toddler clothing.

I LOVE their packaging. Paperdolls. The patterns are represented as cut out clothes to fit two different dolls. The style of the paperdolls and the style of the clothing, remind me of the clothes my mother used to make for me... and the clothes her mother made for her, back in the day. Love this.

How to make your own table easel

Image from McCall's Giant Golden Make-it Book, via Maya*Made

Mayaluna at Maya*Made, posted these wonderful directions on how to make your own outdoor easel and carrying case for your art supplies, from an old book craft book she found in her mother's barn.

I don't know if it would hold up to the attacks of a more sturdy brush hand, but I love the idea.

Heart of Glass

'stonz' necklace by orfeo quagliata, via Unica

I love the look of this necklace. There are many many things I didn't know I wanted till I started looking at the Unica site, but this is my current favorite.

Dare Me

via D. Sharp's a Practical Compendium of Random Things, via TheSelby

I never wanted to be better than my friends
I just wanted to prove wrong the people in my head
the ones who told me I'd be better of dead
the ones who told me that I would never win

when I delivered newspapers they said I was too slow
when I was a barista they said I made lousy foam
when I worked in retail they said I was a slob
much too dumb for school and much too lazy for a job

so I rode my bike like lightning
and I made cappuccinos that would make the angels sing
took two showers a day and I dressed up like a princess
shook my fist in my own face and said I'll show you who's the best

I wrote the kinds of papers teachers hang up on their walls
I was employee of the month at seven different shopping malls
and one time playing football I pulled the tendons in my leg
to prove that I was tough I hopped on one foot
and finished up the game

I thought if I succeeded I'd be happy and they'd go away
but first thing in the morning I'd still wake up and I'd hear them say
"you're fat, ugly, and stupid, you should really be ashamed
no one will ever like you you're not good at anything"

and sometimes I'd rise to the challenge
but other times I'd feel so bad that I could not get out of bed
and on the days I stayed in bed I sang and sang and sang
about how crappy I felt no realizing how many other people would relate

now people send me emails that say thanks for saying the things they didn't know how to say
and the people in my head still visit me sometimes
and they bring all of their friends but I don't mind
I play my guitar like lightning
when I sing I like it when you sing too loud and clear
different voices different tones all sayin' "yeah, we're not alone"
I got good at feeling bad and that's why I'm still here
I got good at feeling bad and that's why I'm still here
I got good at feeling bad and that's why I'm still here
- Kimya Dawson, The Competition

Hunting and Gathering

Image of Bamboo by Zhu Da (aka Bada Shanren), via Andy

“You know Camille, who you make me think of?”

She shook her head.

“A Chinese painter called Zhu Da. Do you want me to tell you his story?...

“Yes,” she said, finally.

“When he was a child, Zhu Da was very happy…”

He took a swallow of tea.

“He was a prince and his family were very rich and powerful. His father and grandfather were painters and famous calligraphers, and little Zhu Da had inherited their gift. So just imagine, one day, when he wasn’t even 8 years old yet, he could draw a flower, a simple lotus flower floating on a pond. His drawing was beautiful, so beautiful that his mother decided to hang it in their salon. She claimed that thanks to the drawing you could feel a fresh little breeze in the huge room and you could even smell the flower’s perfume when you walked by the drawing. Can you imagine? Even the perfume! And his mother was surely not an easy person to please… With both a husband and a father who were artists, she must have seen a few things by then…”

He took another sip from his cup.

“So, Zhu Da grew up in this carefree world full of pleasure, and he was sure that he too would be a great artist someday. Alas, when he turned 18, The Manchus seized power from the Mings. The Manchus were a cruel and brutal people who did not care for painters or writers. They forbade them to work, which is the worst thing anyone could do to them, as you can well imagine. Zhu Da’s family knew no peace after that, and his father died of despair. From one day to the next the son, a mischievous kid who had loved to laugh, sing, say silly things, and recite long poems, did the most incredible thing… Something you’d never imagine. He decided to stop speaking forever. Forever, do you hear? Not a single word would leave his lips! He was disgusted by the attitude of the people around him, those who denied their traditions and their beliefs just so they would be viewed favorably by the Manchus; he didn’t want to speak to any of them ever again. Devil take them all! Every last one! Slaves! Cowards! So he write the word MUTE on the door of his house, and if there were people who tried to talk to him all the same, he would unfold a fan in front of his face, on which he had also written MUTE, and he’d wave it every which way to make them go away.”

Little Camille was captivated.

“The problem is that people can’t live without expressing themselves. No one can. It’s impossible. So Zhu Da, who, like everyone, like you and me for example, had a lot of things to say, Zhu Da had a brilliant idea. He went off into the mountains, far away from all those people who had betrayed him, and he began to draw. And from then on, that is how he would express himself, how he’d communicate with the rest of the world: through his drawings. Would you like to see them?”

Mr. Doughton went to fetch a big black and white book from his shelves, and put it down in front of her.

“Look, isn’t this beautiful? So simple. Just one stroke, and there you are. A flower, a fish, a grasshopper. Look at this duck, how angry it looks; or these mountains in the mist. And you see how he’s drawn the mist? As if it were nothing, just an emptiness. And these chicks, see them? So soft you want to stroke them. Look, his ink is like down, his ink is soft…”

Camille was smiling.

“Would you like me to teach you how to draw like this?”

She nodded.

- Anna Gavalda, Hunting and Gathering

These Photographs

Photograph by Ellen Silverman for story by Paul Lowe, via The Style Files

"The way you read me, no one can see me,
is you are....
And these photographs keep me alive.
And I wanna know what you know, and I wanna go where you go.

These things remind me of, these things remind me of, these things remind me of you."
- from These Photographs, We Were Here, Joshua Radin