City Mouse dress
When they reached the mansion in which the Town Mouse lived, they found on the table in the dining room the leavings of a very fine banquet. There were sweetmeats and jellies, pastries, delicious cheeses, indeed, the most tempting foods that a Mouse can imagine. But just as the Country Mouse was about to nibble a dainty bit of pastry, she heard a Cat mew loudly and scratch at the door...
"The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse," from Aesop's Fables
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Who doesn't love a fifties-style shirtdress? I sure do. 
I stopped by Grey's Fabric at the beginning of the summer to take advantage of a 15% off sale, and spotted this snazzy, not-too-girly floral (Central Park Fog from the Gramercy Collection by Leah Duncan for Art Gallery Fabrics—hence the title of this post. Which means, of course, that there must also be a "country mouse" dress at some point.) 
There was only a yard and a quarter left on the bolt, and while I purchased it thinking I'd make a blouse, this fabric knew what it wanted to be: a Hawthorn dress. So I ordered a couple more yards from Llama Fabrics on Etsy.
@themackenzilee I banged this much out in a day. Version #2 will go even faster! @ColettePatterns #sewing pic.twitter.com/CiiJz2frQf
— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) July 29, 2015
I am a big fan of Colette Patterns, as you know, although I must admit that I have many more patterns stashed than I've actually gotten around to sewing yet (like Zinnia and Parfait and Sencha and Ginger; I also need to blog the Sorbetto I made for my sister last Christmas). And this pattern was an absolute dream—I couldn't believe how easily it came together. (Sidebar: I rarely do trial garments/fittings, which are called muslins. You know I fly by the seat of my pants, or in this case, skirt. So I really lucked out that Colette's size 6 fit so perfectly.) 
I'd been putting off learning how to make buttonholes for ages, but once I resolved to learn (and did, thanks to this awesome Youtube tutorial; so straightforward, right??) it was smooth sewing. UNTIL. I mentioned in my last sewing post that I had created a real disaster for myself. What happened, you ask? While opening the buttonholes I applied a tad too much pressure on the seam ripper. 
I KNOW, RIGHT? *wails, tears at hair, gnashes teeth*But I held it together. I can fix this, I said to myself, because there was no way I was going to take this dress apart and redo the right front bodice. I figured the busy pattern would more or less camouflage any mends, and I do believe I was right: 
(I Fray-checked the "wound" immediately and zig-zagged it shut a few days later with some hand stitching on top, matching thread to pattern as closely as possible.)Mackenzi and I are sewing her launch dress (Facebook RSVP here, btw—Friday, September 25th at Porter Square Books at 7pm, be there OR ELSE) using the same pattern, and when she tried on this first version for sizing purposes she didn't even notice the repair job. 
Quick note on circle skirt anatomy here: because it flares, there is too much fabric to be hemmed as usual, and if you try you'll end up with wrinkles at regular intervals. I was originally going to follow the instructions for the 1 1/2" hand-stitched hem, but after a couple of rounds of pressing I did not have confidence that the hem was going to lay flat. So, as other Hawthorn sewists have done, I followed Gertie's two-part tutorial for a narrow hem, eliminating the need to ease in the fullness. If you are making this dress, you also might want to refer to the Hawthorn sewalong page for tips on adjustments and suchlike. 
Despite the seam ripper mishap, I really love how this dress came out! 
Sewn on the Fourth of July
All the way back at my first Squam in 2011, Cal Patch wore the most adorable blouse she'd sewn herself. (She's got pics on the old version of her blog.) Cal gave me the pattern number—Simplicity 3964, Built by Wendy—and I'd been looking for the perfect fabric to pair it with for a dress version ever since.
Then I found this pretty Japanese lawn at Mood Fabrics ($12/yard) earlier this year. This dress = finally happening! 
The inset panel was a real pain in the tush, but like the V on the Chataigne shorts, it's totally worth having to rip and resew a few times to get it right.
A few more notes:I sewed French seams on the sides, which (along with the front and back yoke/bodice facings) means there isn't a fray-able seam allowance anywhere inside this garment (yay!)I cut a size 14 (which seems big, I know—I'm a 6 or 8 in the indie patterns, 8 or 10 ready to wear), which was perfect apart from a bit of floopiness under the arms. I ripped out the top few inches of the French seams and took in the sides (which meant I also had to shorten the armhole binding).
I got the belt custom made from a wonderful Etsy shop called Good Mood Moon that does vegan leather accessories. It really makes the outfit—much more interesting than the self-made fabric tie the pattern suggests. I also skipped the wing-like sleeve thingies. I have pretty square shoulders, so I was afraid they might look a little ridiculous. I like this dress sleeveless. 
I'm still not sure about the below-the-knee length of the hem—I need to wear an (albeit tiny) heel to keep it from feeling dowdy, but with my favorite sandals on it's a pleasingly old fashioned length. Funny how fine that line can be sometimes.And yes, I sewed this dress (everything but the hem!) on Independence Day. All the fun went out of the 4th when I found out how horrible fireworks are for the environment, so I figured I'd be antisocial and crank out something lovely to wear.Next sewing post: smooth sailing before a HORRIBLE DISASTER! (Fortunately I am resourceful and can fix anything I almost ruin...)
Chataigne shorts
Last summer I was trying on shorts off the Anthropologie sale rack, and when I checked the labels it seemed like every single pair was made in China. Then of course came the inevitable declaration of seamstresses the world over from time immemorial: I can make these!So here's a (typically belated) two-in-one sewing post: the Chataigne shorts from Deer and Doe, two versions from the same linen-rayon blend recommended by Ashley at Grey's Fabric in SoWa. (I LOVE Grey's. Love love love. Superlative customer service; gorgeous selection of fabrics, patterns, notions, and random gifty things; they sell Taza at the register!!; and now I have a punched-up rewards card giving me $10 off my next purchase.)
I made a pear-green pair last August; then, wanting something more practical, I went back to Grey's this spring and picked up some more of the linen-rayon blend in a medium gray.I don't have much in the way of notes or mods on this pattern, as the instructions are delightfully clear (unlike commercial sewing patterns, which is why indie designers like Deer and Doe, Colette, Victory, et al. are doing so well). The attention to detail is terrific without getting too fiddly apart from the V-shaped waistband, which is totally worth ripping and re-sewing a few times to get just right. (Also, a sewing PSA: diligent rounds of pressing are crucial to a successful finished garment!) I definitely want to make more Deer and Doe patterns (like this one and this one and maybe this one). 
I haven't done this yet, but my only suggestion (if you are using a linen or linen blend similar to this one) is to apply Fray-check along the seams to keep them from fraying too much over time. Also, I always hand wash these shorts. (I wash every garment I make by hand.)The green pair were a really good confidence-booster for me. I started my garment-a-month sewing challenge feeling way more competent than I had before! 
When my "I love animals too much to eat them" t-shirt arrived in the mail from Herbivore I squee'd at how perfectly the lettering matches my green shorts. One of my new favorite outfits for sure. (They're really wrinkly in that photo, but in fairness to the linen-rayon blend, I had been sitting on the bus for four hours!) 
I have another new dress to show you next!
#WhatIMake
I'm just home from a wonderful weekend of live music, vegan peach cobbler and sock-knitting on the lawn at Falcon Ridge Folk Fest. I'm going to blog about the festival again this year, but for now here's another really cool event I'm about to add to my calendar:
(Edit: this is the revised poster for the rescheduled event.)
I'll be one of those ten speakers! Hooray! I originally wanted to do a presentation on veganism and creativity, but one of my vegan friends may be speaking as well, so I'll probably do a talk and workshop on writing and intuition instead. It's going to be a delightfully busy weekend with our Halloween group reading (with Mackenzi, Kendall, and Marika) at Tres Gatos the next day!
Tickets for #WhatIMake will go on sale in September. There will only be 100 seats, so if you are interested do sign up for the Miranda's Hearth email list!
Georgina, Reprised
Behold, the most flattering garment I have ever knit! I never blogged my first version of the Georgina cardigan (knit in 2012) because I didn't use vegan yarn and felt weird about it (well, yeah). 
Georgina #2 is knit from a bamboo-pima cotton blend I've enjoyed knitting with before, although this version is definitely slippier: 
The shawl collar won't stay put, but on the upside, it's much more comfortable to wear than that scratchy wool. First finished garment of 2015! (The Unicorn dress was #2.) 
I am trying to make cardigans and dresses to wear together. The green bolero and my sundress #1 matched so perfectly—I must recreate (and veganize) this outfit. The sundress fell to pieces from so much wear, but I have enough calico to make another one! (I've already started it. Three more dresses to finish by the end of the summer!)The construction of this bolero is pretty ingenious: you start at the back, increasing stitches and separating for the side fronts, then block hard before grafting the shoulders and picking up stitches for the sleeves and collar. As for pattern notes, my only suggestion is to start the decreases immediately after picking up the armhole stitches. Otherwise there's too much fabric around the underarms. 
And now it's time for a BUTTON-OFF!: 
Georgina #1 buttons were a gift from Ailbhe. Georgina #2 ancient-coin buttons from M&J Trimming in NYC. I will deeeeefinitely be knitting a third version at some point, but I have to decide on a less slippery yarn sub.I've made zero knitting progress lately, partly because of all the sewing I've been doing (yay!) and partly because I've hit a wall—ambitious lace vs. not taking the time to memorize the pattern so I can knit on autopilot. I need to get started on something mindless for a camping trip this weekend!
Namirembe dress
The garment-a-month challenge I set for myself in January (inspired by Annika) is working out pretty well even though I am two months behind. I would never have finished five garments in six and a half months without this self-imposed motivation! 
And of course, the more I make the more compliments I get, which gets me even more psyched to start on the next project. 
On our Uganda/Rwanda trip back in August 2013, Kate and Elliot and I spent a good bit of time at a craft market in Kampala shopping for fabric. They'd just bought their house and were looking for an eye-catching print to hang on the wall, and I was hoping to find something fun but not too "busy" for a dress project. As soon as I saw this subtle and vaguely botanical print (are they berries? squash? nuts? acorns?) I knew three yards of it were coming home with me. Kate convinced the shopkeeper to cut a six-yard swathe in half (they wanted me to buy the whole thing, but I knew the three extra yards would only sit in my stash for years)—she is so good at bargaining, while I'm still working on doing it despite my discomfort. 
I think of this sewing project as the Namirembe dress because "Namirembe" comes from the Luganda word for "peace," and it's a popular name for girls. The story goes that the first Namirembe was a great benefactress in the Christian community. 
Apart from the fabric origin, I don't have much in the way of notes on this project; it's the same mash-up as the unicorn dress, Mary Adams + Simplicity 2591, but this time I included the pockets from the Simplicity pattern. The practicality is so worth the extra sewing! 
As you can tell by the photos on my news page, this has been my go-to gussied-up-authoress outfit for the past month and change (I finished it just before my NYC event on May 6th). It is flattering and funky and I get appreciative looks and gentlemanly compliments every time I wear it. My favorite comment came from my friend Jaclyn's roommate, who asked if I'd ever lived in Africa while I lounged in their hammock at a recent tea party. She'd lived in Kampala for awhile, so she recognized the fabric. 
I lined the bodice with black batiste left over from the cathedral dress, but I haven't lined the skirt yet. I really need to do that if I want to be able to wear this dress through the fall and winter. (Otherwise the fabric clings to my stockings. Slippy acetate/rayon lining = free movement.)I have to confess that when I'm almost finished with a sewing project, I get lazy. I haven't actually sewn in the bodice linings of either this dress or my unicorn dress, just basted them in place so I could wear each of them ASAP. I also had to re-sew this zipper. I showed up at Kate G's office the day of the McNally Jackson event and heard the ominous sound of snapping threads as I took off my jacket. But literary agents help you out with all kinds of things, not just book deals, haha—Kate put in a safety pin and I was good to go. 
More sewing projects to blog about soon! 
A Unicorn and His Lady
Photo by Aram Comjean.
You may recall that I have a bit of a thing for Spoonflower. Check out my latest obsession: I love that this fabric is inspired by the Lady and the Unicorn tapestries at the Musée de Cluny in Paris (which I visited on my only trip to France in November 2003). The design ("A Unicorn and His Lady" by Nicole Buxton—I just noticed she lives in Boston!!!) is a few years old, but I only recently ordered my yardage (cotton poplin; the voile is sadly no longer available)—I'd been plotting and planning this entire time, looking for the perfect pattern. Because who doesn't want a dress with unicorns on it?
I joked that I was only making it to make Mackenzi (who is usually wearing a ridiculously adorable dress) jealous, only I wasn't kidding, really. I am pretty sure it worked. Between my garment-a-month challenge and wanting a new handmade outfit for my book launch, I knew this dress was going to happen even if it came down to the wire (and needless to say, it almost did).
The seven-piece bodice is from The Party Dress Book by Mary Adams (one of my Harvard Books warehouse sale finds), and the skirt is adapted from Simplicity 2591 (which I had on hand for another dress project on hold for over a year now). When I was in New York visiting Victoria I stopped by Mood Fabrics to pick up some pale gray rayon for the skirt lining (the bodice is self lined, meaning I used the same fabric as on the outside of the dress; I didn't want to be doing that much piecing with such slippery fabric. I'll pick up a can of fabric stiffener spray at some point.)
Considering that I took a bit of a seat-of-my-pants approach (so what else is new?? I had to take in the bodice because, well, my bosom is on the modest side, but I left it to trial and error), I was amazed at how smoothly this project proceeded from start to finish. As you're sewing (or knitting) you dream of the moment when you slip your new garment over your head, look at yourself in the mirror, and marvel at how awesome you look. This, thankfully, was one of those times.
I've been doing a lot of blog Q&As, and one of the questions I answered today was about what I wanted to be when I grew up. For a long time, kindergarten intermittently through high school, I wanted to be a fashion designer; then I realized that I didn't want to design clothing for anyone else, I just wanted to express my personality through my own wardrobe. I'm choosing colors, textures and patterns that make me really happy to wear (and to be seen in, to a certain extent), and this is infinitely more satisfying than choosing a garment off the rack. I got loads of compliments at the launch—this dress made me feel even more confident.
(I have to confess something. When I wore this dress the night of the launch, various unsubtle jokes were made as to the lady's carnal knowledge of the unicorn. I LOVE MY FRIENDS.)
Photo by Mary Bonina.
I'll blog about my new blue bolero in the next week or two!
Guardian Angels and Other Projects
I've been meaning to blog about the long-sleeved tee I screenprinted for my mother for Christmas. One of my all-time favorite travel photos is of this lovely old headstone I found in Ardmore, County Waterford, and I knew Mumsy would appreciate being able to wear these "guardian angels." I must confess that this project didn't proceed as smoothly as I'd hoped. The lines I'd painted (with the drawing fluid) were too fine and my printing technique was totally rusty (I can't believe I took Krista's class six months ago already), so I wound up having to handpaint most of the image. It was worth the painstaking effort though! A few other things I've been making lately: I'm on target with the garment-a-month challenge so far—I finished my project for January, which I'll blog about soon. Now for a dress!
The Aspirational Lightness of Being
I have been a messy person for a very long time now, or at least that's how I've seen myself. I have manila envelopes stuffed with scraps of ideas going all the way back to my years at NYU, and I have a bad habit of leaving piles of trash in the corner of my room for days or even weeks (paper recycling, mostly—never rotting food or anything, I do feel the need to clarify that!) Instead of filing documents and receipts, I've tossed them into a cardboard box to be dealt with on some occasion in the nebulous future when Camille Finally Gets Her S**t Together. (And it isn't just my apartment; my stepfather has affectionately remarked that my bedroom looks as if I still live there.)
When I visited my aunt and uncle in Arizona in 2007 on my little Mary Modern book tour, I slept on an air mattress in my aunt's craft room, where the walls are lined with neatly organized scrapbooking and soapmaking supplies. How lovely it was to wake up inside that roomful of potential, to think of all the things she hasn't made yet that will be. The reason why all that stuff (however organized it is, it is still STUFF) didn't stress me out is, of course, that it isn't my stuff. All the ideas I have yet to implement, the books I have yet to read, the art and craft supplies I have yet to use: these things are making me anxious. I have no system for keeping them in order, for curating (such a buzzword these days, ha) my collections so that I don't feel overwhelmed by too much creative potential. When I looked through the plexiglass at Francis Bacon's studio at the Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin, all I could think was please don't let me end up like this.
Thing is, though: I'm the one who decides how clean and organized my working and living spaces are going to be, and it doesn't matter if I'm being a bit hard on myself here—either way, I have to find a system that works. I want to feel that I'm working (or crafting) effectively. So here are some resolutions:
1. MAKE THE BED. For crying out loud.
2. Break down the seemingly-endless task. My sister pointed out that it makes way more sense to figure out and start using a system for organizing my ideas as I get them, folding in the contents of those manila envelopes over time, rather than tackling the backlog straight away. I always attempt it that way, and an hour later I throw up my hands.
3. Do the tasks regularly so they never reach the point of 'seemingly-endless'! On Sunday nights I'm going to input receipts into my tax spreadsheet, 'process' any other paperwork, and empty my wastebasket.
4. Get the right storage. I picked up one of those black-and-clear-plastic five-drawer cabinets via Craigslist the other week, and I'm going to buy some cubbies (like Ikea, but not) for my art and craft stuff, which will go under my desk (which is actually an 8' long table, so no built-in shelving).
5. Use Trello (thanks, Elliot!) to manage to-do lists.
This is good for a start, right? And here are some links I've found helpful and/or inspiring:
I've been meaning to do a "nesting" post since last summer, but it'll be so much better to do it once my space is naturally tidy (as opposed to my tidying it up for the picture taking, ha). One thing I'm excited to share is my (DIY) project bag rack, which makes use of the odd (as in charming!) space created by the slanting attic wall. More soon!
(This post is a continuation of item five on my 2015 list of intentions.)
Gratitude 2015 giveaway!; or, a gift in 365 parts
Happy New Year, everybody! To celebrate, I'm giving away a copy of my friend Susa Talan's 2015 gratitude calendar! Same deal as usual:
You get ONE entry for a Facebook comment
TWO entries for a share, tweet or retweet
and THREE entries for leaving a comment on this post.
I'll keep this giveaway open 'til midnight tomorrow (January 2nd) and choose a random entry.
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I'm always excited for the start of a new year, but today I'm bursting at the seams in the very best way. You know it's going to be a terrific year when the new novel is actually hovering somewhere in the middle of a long list of projects, adventures, and other blessings. This month—thanks to a part-time gig at my all-time favorite studio, yay!—I will slip back into my daily yoga routine in preparation for teacher training in November. Yoga and a couple of secret writing projects are at the top of that list.
I'm not much for "resolutions," per se; I prefer to see them as directions in which I'd like to grow. For the sake of accountability I'll share my "2015 expansion" with you here (and I want to hear what you're intending for this year as well!):
1. Yoga! I didn't manage a freestanding handstand last year, but it is TOTALLY happening in 2015.
2. Tuck into a series of delicious nonfiction projects. (This is just one of them.) I'm renewing my membership to the Writers' Room, so my productivity is about to skyrocket.
3. Make more art. I'm planning to take a printmaking class at MassArt over the summer.
4. After years of wistfully scrolling through IntSweMoDo projects on Ravelry (the challenge is to knit one sweater per month!), I'm finally committing to it, with one tweak: knit a sweater OR sew a dress (or other involved project, like shorts or what have you), EVERY MONTH. I have enough yarn and fabric to last through the summer, at least!
5. And this is perhaps the most important: this year I finally want to feel like I have my act together. I need to work way more efficiently than I do now. I'm talking zero inbox (inspired by my friend Kirsty), workable craft supply and book storage, and no more manila envelopes stuffed with decade-old scraps of scribbled ideas!
I DID IT, YOU GUYS! Inbox zero is not a myth! pic.twitter.com/c8Xin0KZ2u— Kirsty Logan (@kirstylogan) May 9, 2014
I'll be blogging more about these 2015 intentions over the next month, by the way.
Doing the zombie walk into the light http://t.co/mnRlsmeciT — squam (@squamlove) December 31, 2014
What are your hopes and ambitions for 2015, friends? By the by, I highly recommend settling in with your hot beverage of choice and filling out Susannah Conway's Unravelling 2015 workbook. Elizabeth and I looked over our workbooks from last year and were stunned at how much of what we envisioned for the year came to pass. (Just be REALLY clear about what you want, because if you leave any blanks, you can't expect to manifest much in that category...)
Camille gets to see the crazy amazing light in this place. http://t.co/YmxyDkKMmF — squam (@squamlove) January 1, 2015
* * *EDIT: Congrats to Liv for winning the calendar giveaway!
Gods, Graves, and Budding Artists
There were many delightful moments throughout my #100happydays drawing challenge (which I still haven't finished blogging/tweeting about), but my favorite happened towards the end of the hundred days. Home in NJ for the weekend, I was sketching whatever caught my eye out of Gods, Graves, and Scholars.First I drew a mummy.
Then I drew the headdress of the queen of Sumeria, Shub-Ad [sic], who lived roughly 4,600 years ago. 
Olivia slept over that Saturday night, and the book's photographs and my copycat drawings fascinated her. "Can I draw her too?" It was bedtime, but I promised she could draw Shub-Ad when she woke up.I came downstairs the next morning, and she had already done it. 
Needless to say, I picked up art supplies for her (belated) birthday present (she turned 8 at the end of November), and I'm excited for the next time we draw together. I feel like a big part of my job as her auntie is to share my enthusiasms with her—not to coax her into sharing them, but to help her develop her own areas of interest. 
More drawing in January!
Further Adventures in Wartime Knitting
(Previous entries: Knitted Garments for All, Knitting for Little Men, Knitting Patterns from 1939, the Victory Jumper.)
On the tail end of my Vermont leaf-peeping weekend my friend and I stumbled upon the coolest antiques store EVER. Dozens of vendors each have their own little niche inside the one large room, and I definitely got the impression that this sales model results in higher-quality offerings all around. When we were checking out the owner said she'd enjoyed overhearing my enthusiastic exclamations over the past half hour or so ("Oh my God, a OUIJA BOARD! But don't let me buy it. Don't let me buy it!!!"), which, of course, made me love her treasure trove of an antiques shop all the more.
I just looked it up so I could link to it—Antiques at 27 Main in Bristol, Vermont—and I'm so sad to read they're closing at the end of the year. Why does every place I over-the-moon adore have to go out of business?!
Naturally, I was all over the vintage pattern books and notions. This picture reminds me of playing horseshoes with my grandfather and sister.
This one gives me MAD BABYLUST even though said child is almost old enough to be my grandmother.
I don't know when I'll get around to knitting out of this incredibly charming pattern book (isn't that always the way?), but I can tell you that I'm making use of the claret-colored bias binding in one of my Christmas presents (which I'll blog about in January). I was sewing quite a bit back in August and September, so I have to catch up on sharing those projects too.
Ugh. Still so bummed about that antiques shop going O-O-B!
Wunderkind Syndrome
Wunderkind Syndrome: Or, How to Stop Wanting to Be More Amazing Than Everybody Else
There is here no measuring with time, no year matters, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer.
— Rainer Maria Rilke. During my freshman year at NYU I took the subway uptown to the Guggenheim. When I came upon Picasso’s Le Moulin de la Galette—painted just after the great artist’s nineteenth birthday—I stood before it in a fog of self reproach. I was nineteen, and what did I have to show for myself?In that moment I succumbed to “Wunderkind Syndrome”: the frantic desire to produce an amazing work of art as soon as possible—preferably before the age of twenty, twenty five at the latest—so that everyone will hail your genius before any of your contemporaries can edge you out. Furthermore, if you’re not applying yourself to this ambition with obsessive focus then you obviously don’t want it badly enough, and if you don’t want it enough to sacrifice sleep, social life, and basic personal hygiene, then you musn’t be a true artist.Ridiculous, right? I’m chuckling as I type this. Why do we want so badly to prove our brilliance at a more tender age than everyone else? Why, in our secret (or not-so-secret) hearts, do we want to be perceived as better than everyone else?Perhaps the first reason is, of course, that our culture is obsessed with youth (and generally at the expense of substance). We feel this panic to produce something while the world still casts us in an attractive light.The second factor to consider is the scarcity mentality, which has haunted our species from the African savannah all the way to the Walmart Black Friday stampede. There are only so many accolades to go around—only so much gallery space, only so many slots on the “big five” publishers’ seasonal lists—and we grow desperate to claim our share as soon as we possibly can.But the ultimate reason has nothing to do with cutting throats or getting trampled. We all want to be loved and accepted for who we are, and because our art feels like the truest expression of that identity, it’s all too tempting to conflate output with intrinsic worth. This misperception is most powerful during that brutal passage through adolescence. I must beam this work of my heart out into the world so that I will be seen—heard—understood. If we must make ourselves vulnerable in this way, then we might as well be rewarded for our bravery.When I first began writing fiction with an eye toward publication, in 2001, a nineteen year old with a book deal was a rare bird. These days, thanks to the rocketing popularity of young adult fiction and the ease of digital publishing, you can find teenaged authors seemingly everywhere you look. Amanda Hocking, whose phenomenal self-publishing success led to a million-dollar deal with, ahem, my own publisher, has mentioned in interviews that she wanted to publish by the age of 26 because that’s how old Stephen King was when he came out with his first novel, Carrie. When I read an ARC of Hocking’s own debut novel, I made a game of underlining the adverbs, which appeared in ludicrous profusion on nearly every page. Apologies for the snark here, but she could have taken a few more years to hone her craft.Still, I know exactly where Amanda Hocking was coming from. Just before my twenty-second birthday, I finished the last scene of a 600-page manuscript, hit the print button and mailed that teetering pile of paper off to a literary agent. I look back on the girl I was then, and try not to smile too condescendingly. I did get my first book deal at twenty five, but I put those three intervening years to good use: writing all night, sleeping ’til noon, forging lasting friendships with my grad school classmates, and going to classes knowing only that I had a hell of a lot to learn. In essence, I was working on a much more practical form of character development: I stopped believing the world owed me something and focused on telling an engaging and meaningful story.In Show Your Work, Austin Kleon cites John Richardson’s biography of Picasso. According to Richardson, Picasso was notorious for sucking the energy out of anyone who paid him a visit: somebody with stars in his eyes would show up hoping to be inspired by the great artist, only to leave hours later feeling completely exhausted and depressed. Picasso, meanwhile, retreated to his studio and painted all night with renewed vigor. This is why many of Picasso’s contemporaries wanted nothing to do with him personally.The asshole-genius is a false binary—you can see something you painted as a teenager in one of the world’s finest art museums without turning into a psychic vampire!—but we may still find ourselves striving for notoriety at any cost if we lose sight of these two basic truths:
1. Getting a fancy book, film, or record deal does NOT make you a better artist.2. Getting a fancy book, film, or record deal does NOT make you a better person.
In his 2008 TED talk Benjamin Zander, longtime conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, says, “I have a definition of success. For me, it’s very simple: it’s not about wealth and fame and power. It’s about how many shining eyes I have around me.” Zander is now in his seventies, and the viewer gets the distinct impression as he bounds down the steps to engage with his audience that he is sharing the wisdom he has accumulated over seven decades of conscious living. He has nothing to prove; he’s only offering the best that is in him, a trove of abundance that goes on accumulating with every passing year.How absurd, then, to think that one’s insight and ability have a sell-by date, when they ought to have a “do not sell before” date! Art isn’t a sporting event; it isn’t a race. No one is standing before you holding up their wrist to tap at their watch. Besides, there’s always going to be someone out there who’s achieved your goal at a younger age, who’s garnered more commercial success or critical accolades and awards. Wunderkind Syndrome will siphon off your creative energy if you give in to it.In the end, of course, no one gives a crap how young or old you are. If you’ve written a good book or snapped a stunning photograph, your work will circulate in the world on its own merits.* * *Edit: Nora Mathews pointed me to this 2008 New Yorker article by Malcolm Gladwell on genius and precocity.* * *This post became a chapter in Life Without Envy: Ego Management for Creative People.
Happy birthday to my favorite person!
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In our culture we make a big stinkin' deal about turning thirty, and then it turns out to feel not so different from any other birthday. Still, there's a quiet momentousness to it: you let go of the doubts and confusion of the twenties, and grow into yourself. My "little" sister turned 30 last week, and I thought I should give her something suited to the occasion. Kate and Elliot have decorated their home primarily with photographs and other artwork from their travels. I thought back to the gorgeous Nouveau window in the front door at the Tesla museum in Belgrade (which we'd visited on our Eastern European tour back in 2007), and decided to recreate it for them. (If you click on that link you can see the original window.) Last things first: I ordered a custom frame (12" x 36") made from reclaimed barn wood (swoon!) from Signed and Numbered on Etsy, since it would take a few weeks to make and ship. I didn't know yet which colors I'd use for the background, so I just chose a distressed "robin's-egg-blue" (read: green) finish because it seemed like a color I'd want to use in the piece.Then I picked up large sheets of paper from Dick Blick, one black for the "wrought iron" and one white for the background. Sketching and Exacto-ing was really relaxing, even meditative. Naturally I didn't get down to business on the background until a few days before I was leaving for D.C. I picked up a set of Holbein oil pastels (a medium I hadn't used since high school), plus a few more complex colors (Sennelier brand) a la carte, which were an absolute joy to draw with; alternating between the two brands reinforced for me just how important is the quality of one's materials. The Holbein pastels were adequate; the Sennelier pastels were like drawing with (plant-based) butter (only not nearly as messy as that sounds!) Investing in the best-quality materials you can afford is money well spent. Okay, I'm going to be honest with you. I only finished the background the morning of my departure. I still think it looks pretty good for being a seat-of-my-pants effort though: (The other thing is that I can always swap out the background if I ever come up with something I'm happier with, and that Kate would prefer. At any rate, the "wrought iron" is the point of the piece; I just needed the background to offer a sense of depth and distance.)Kate wanted to wait until Sunday to open her present, for the same reason that we try to space out our Christmas gifts. Open everything at first opportunity, and face the deflation of it's all over already! They'd hired a hip hop band for the birthday party Saturday, and it was a really fun night. We stayed up late, Elliot made a delicious potato-kale-onion breakfast hash in the morning, and then they opened the box. A very satisfying art project, I must say!
Sweeter than the face of Ishtar
Last Christmas my sister and I were going through more of our grandparents' stuff, and we found this poster I'd made in high school—most likely for English class given that it's a paean to Sylvia Plath.
I looked at this drawing for the first time in...what, fourteen years?...and thought, "Gosh, that's beautiful." (How could I have forgotten what a gorgeous poet she was?) Kate thinks I should frame it.I also love that I'm still using the same set of Prismacolors!
#100happydays of Drawing
I haven't been at all diligent about tweeting my daily drawings, but I'm still at it, and that's the important thing. I'm nearing the end of the one hundred days now, and ironically enough the only two days I've missed were during Squam! So I figure I can do a hundred and two days and call it even.
#100happydays, day/drawing #16. First drawing from imagination. I'm quite fond of it. pic.twitter.com/g28p9KRLLV— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) July 17, 2014
#100happydays, day/drawing #36: NYC mime out of the @humansofny book. pic.twitter.com/FnNG8dxJ0y— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) September 1, 2014
#100happydays, day/drawing #25: Catal Hoyuk fertility idol. pic.twitter.com/BRish4n2sE— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) August 10, 2014
What's next after this challenge? For the past two Wednesdays I've gone to drawing night at the Museum of Fine Arts, and I'm really excited about both the figure drawing practice and sketching whatever calls to me out of the collections. (There's a model the first three Wednesdays of the month, and on the last Wednesday you're sketching the art.) Let me tell you, MFA membership is an AMAZING deal: I paid $75 for the year, and can visit "for free" whenever, not to mention the shop/cafe discounts. Seeing as I wanted to start coming to these drawing nights regularly, membership was a no brainer. 
Last Wednesday I started by drawing this Mayan incense burner... 
...But this fertility idol (also from Mexico, Lagunillas style, c. 250BC—250AD) was totally calling to me. 
I only stayed to sketch two poses yesterday because it was getting hungry out. (I was meeting a friend to write in the museum cafe beforehand, but they were out of the hummus plate.) Of course, you can draw from the collections whenever you like, and I have my eye on a few pieces I'd like to sketch with my Prismacolors in the same way. I'm still enjoying the Micron pens though (and I picked up some colored ones at the Dick Blick sale last week!)I left the museum last week feeling absolutely exhilarated, like I did when I was a child and had just drawn something I was really proud of. Glad to be making a habit out of this!
Adventures in Screenprinting
Back in July I took a two-part screenprinting course at the Boston Center for Adult Education. Krista Siana of Bias Design was our teacher, and I can't recommend the class highly enough. Krista is really fun and relaxed and presents all the necessary techniques in a totally manageable way. 
Had an awesome time in @klsiana's screenprinting class at @bcae today—check out my first t-shirt! pic.twitter.com/porKkN5PgF— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) July 19, 2014
The first week we cut our designs out of clear-lay with an Exacto knife. 
In the second class we used a more time-intensive but versatile technique: you trace your image directly onto the screen, then fill it in with blue drawing fluid. (This is where the ink eventually goes.) Then you apply a brick-colored screen filler, let it dry, and rinse it so the drawing fluid dissolves. Then you're ready to print, and can use this same stencil for a hundred printings if you like. Here are some step-by-step pics: 
(The death's head I used is from the King's Chapel Burial Ground.) 
Bad ass art making happening today in my BCAE class. @cometparty rocking that drawing fluid like a pro. pic.twitter.com/Sz2kxtDbZq— Krista Siana (@klsiana) July 27, 2014
Art making! @cometparty @BCAE Take my class, and make all your T shirt dreams come true. pic.twitter.com/XUEgbt0NtA— Krista Siana (@klsiana) July 27, 2014
Needless to say, I am hooked on screenprinting. Now I just have to take advantage of some Dick Blick coupons so I can gather all the necessary supplies to keep printing at home. In addition to screenprinting sessions in October and November, Krista is offering a Japanese woodcut printing class that I would totally sign up for if I weren't going to be out of the country!
Fall Squam 2014
Each time I blog about the latest Squam retreat I'm reminded of how inadequate language truly is. It's impossible to convey the transformative magic of this place to someone who hasn't been here.This was my first time teaching, and while I came with the express intent of stepping into my teacherhood, I received SO much more than that. People (who'd taken my class, or had heard good things) kept asking where else I was teaching, if I offer e-courses and the like, which has me thinking deeply again about creating my own opportunities. I connected with kindred spirits—special shout outs to Liv White, who picked me up at North Londonderry a day early so we could help decorate the playhouse, and who has one of the purest hearts I have ever encountered; and to Sarah Greenman, whom I love with a fierceness that is eerily disproportional to the precious-little time we spent together IRL. I did the woo-woo thing with my wonderful cabin-mates (and fellow teachers), some of whom (fortunately for me!) live in the Boston area. I shared a story from my childhood at lunchtime on Saturday and wound up bawling onto my empty plate; it was a huge breakthrough and I'm so grateful to Dixie for her insight. Even when I found myself in conflict with a very dear friend, I could (eventually) see it for the gift that it was.Because EVERYTHING is a gift. Even when it's hard, it's a gift. How else are we supposed to grow? 
I also can't adequately convey just how excited I am about life right now. I'm hatching all sorts of plans for workshops and books that will go even deeper than I had time for in only six hours, and I've taken down the old stuff on my "learn with me" page to make space for these new projects. I'm so, so grateful to my dear friend Elizabeth for giving me the opportunity to share what I've learned, and go on learning as I do so.
A parting gift from @ccerruti at @squamlove. pic.twitter.com/LlOeWSyfAS
— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) September 14, 2014
Infinite Curiosity
As I mentioned in my post for the Main Street Vegan blog over the summer, one of the virtues that the shift to veganism seems to cultivate is curiosity. I've been thinking about Leonardo recently, what with my rekindled artistic ambitions and all, so I thought I'd share this excerpt from Colin Spencer's The Heretic's Feast: A History of Vegetarianism about the most curious man who ever lived:
...Before Montaigne and roughly contemporary with both Erasmus and More one giant among men passionately denounced the slaughter of animals and loathed meat-eating: Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), Renaissance man himself, possibly the greatest draughtsman ever to have lived, possessed of an infinite curiosity which drove him on in an unstinting examination of life's myriad phenomena. Yet in the sixty or so biographies in the London Library on his life and work, only one book bothers to discuss his vegetarianism...
Leonardo's inventions or near-discoveries would have made him remarkable enough without the paintings or drawings. He designed the first armoured vehicles, several types of aircraft and helicopters, anticipated the submarine and almost discovered the circulation of the blood. He dissected corpses and made anatomical drawings hundreds of years ahead of his time. Around and among all these drawings and sketches he wrote copiously. His views on vegetarianism and his pity for animals were no secret—a letter from India, written by Andrea Corsali in 1515, to Giuliano de Medici (Leonardo's patron) tells us: 'Certain infidels galled Guzzerati do not feed upon anything that contains blood, nor do they permit among them that any injury be done to any living thing, like our Leonardo da Vinci.'
There is throughout Leonardo's scattered notes a rising disgust with man himself, as here: 'King of animals—as thou hast described him—I should rather say King of the beasts, though being the greatest—because thou doest only help them, in order that they may give thee their children for the benefit of the gullet, of which thou hast attempted to make a sepulchre for all animals'...
Leonardo writes: 'Now does not nature produce enough simple vegetarian food for thee to satisfy thyself? And if thou art not content with such, canst thou not by the mixture of them make infinite compounds, as Platina describes and other writers on food?' Leonardo was clearly aware of vegetarian cuisine.
Was there any such thing as a meat-free cookbook back then? I must keep reading!
Falcon Ridge Folk Festival
I spent the first weekend of August camping, volunteering, and listening to terrific live music at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival near Hillsdale, NY. My friend Miranda has been going nearly every summer since she was (literally) in diapers, and I'm so happy she convinced me to come along! 
Miranda plays one of her original songs for her dad, Aldon. 
#100happydays, day/drawing #33: inspired by the Horse Flies' banjo player at @falconridgefolk. pic.twitter.com/AQ4c3BJbqk— Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) September 1, 2014
My favorite musical "discovery" is Boston-based Darlingside. Even after listening to this song at least two hundred times, it still gives me chills: Gorgeous, right? 