Up, up and away: Swissair's 1960s hankerchiefs

The Swiss have a reputation for producing gorgeous printing on hankerchiefs. What a better way to promote a national airline than with noteworthy, keepers—hankerchiefs to commemorate one’s trip? The exotica of travel from cowboys to Andes natives, from bagpipes to more cowboys—from pretty to actually serving as a menu—Swissair covered the bases with hankies. Please take a look— I will keep searching. Kudos to Flashbak for their lively article .

I particularly love the bottom row—they remind me of Evaline Ness, (April 24, 1911 – August 12, 1986)—a fashion illustrator for Saks who evolved into a children’s book illustrator in her later years. The work was experimental, texture-y and very active.

a little fabulous flying music concurrent with these hankies!!

New additions to the Carl Tait collection

These are two new adds to Mrs. Cassetti’s Carl Tait collection. I just love the Thank You hankie with the French courtiers. The colors are sublime, the red line work, and the corner doodly-doos are worthy of saving for something Mrs. Cassetti fun! And the many ways to say love….? I love love!!

This fall, I plan on scanning all of my Carl Taits and sharing with you. Too much joy. Too much midcentury modernity. Another window on this cool period that illustration popped up in…in interesting places like hankies!

What a boy!

What a guy! It is said that airedale terriers are the “giant” or King of terriers, and our guy, Mitchy Ray Sunshine personified this aspect of his breed. He was a big, big dog in a medium sized body. He exuded confidence, humor and love for this new world he unexpectedly was tossed into. He was one of us for exactly one year and four days—and I have such tremendous gratitude for that short time filled with learning from this brilliant boy. When we first started out, on day two from the Gotcha!, I knew I had him when I opened all the windows of the car on our trip North—and he was stunned with all that hit that nose and brain of his. At the halfway point, I offered him an egg sandwich, and I got his full attention which I had until yesterday' morning.

We both grew our worlds with Mitch pulling me out of a hole—and everyday rescuing me from my desk—with his pulling on my pockets or jumping up and digging his claws into my shoulder—to tell me it was time to get away from my desk. And I gave Mitchy space, treats and less anxiety which I tried to manage through his space and his feeling comfortable. Believe it or not, the car was his safest place. If he felt he needed a place to be that he would not be harassed, it was the car. It was the vehicle that took him from New York City. It was the magic box that took him to “camp” (the kennel which he adored). It was the way we got to the lake with the porch, with breezes and birds and tasty bugs to snap out of the air. He loved his treats and I was not shy…and looking back on that, it was the right thing to do. To think that dream bones were the beginning and end of all fun and the terrier dance he did— but that he only had a short moment to adore them…and he did. Golly, I would have cashed in my treasures just to keep him in dream bones for more time—but it just wasnt in the cards,

As I had said to Rob when we were weighing to take him home or put him down at the hospital— I wanted to be mindful like Mitch—and that if his spirit was there, we would do all we could to help him live. And we had some good days until that last three when he had stopped eating and drinking and spent his time on a downstairs sofa. We would get on occasional tail wag, but the ears were not up and the shine was not there. He was quite an actor and could muster the steam to greet the vet and her assistants (old friends of Mitch)—with a bit of a prance and a hello—to then go back to quiet and still. I knew it was time…and I think he did too and so we said goodbye.

You will live in my heart, my golden boy. Thank you for being with us. It was a gift and honor.

Walk in the light, prance in the light, with your ears up and take it all in. You are my sunshine. always.

Mitchy Ray Sunshine
December 2015- August 28, 2019
Gotcha! date: August 24, 2019

Aunt Ruth: Ruth Henshaw Miles Bascom (1772-1848)

Ruth Henshaw Miles Bascom, also known as “Aunt Ruth” was a twice married woman who raised children, many many children in her household (sometimes as many as 10)—being paid to help them, teach them and if their parents were not around, to foster them. She was a good wife of a minister—doing good works, caring for the poor, tending to the sick. She was also a solid diarist, who had kept diaries since her late teens through the end of her life….with notations from the weather and daily activities (in the early diaries) to details about her town’s statistics, births, deaths, weddings, expenses, cashflow and the like. The American Antiquarian Society has a very interesting pdf with notes and a list of the diaries they have in their collection. Worth taking a look.

Her portraits according to the Fenimore Museum in Cooperstown, NY

“As a minister's wife, Bascom began drawing as a pastime, but was soon traveling to other areas to draw portraiture on commission. She kept a daily journal in which she recorded making over a thousand portraits for money, services in kind, and as tokens of affection. Bascom rendered all her portraits in life-size profile. In order to create a realistic image, she first outlined a cast shadow of the sitter on her drawing paper. She then colored the picture using pastel crayons.”

The way I see it is that Aunt Ruth, in the tradition of parlor activities, would trace the sitter’s profile like a silhouette artist would have done. What is interesting — another point of intersectionality—is that sihouette cutting was popular in America from 1790 until 1840. Why 1840? We know this…the advent of photography!
Silhouette cutting was an activity that was either hired, or something one would do at home for amusement. The twist that Aunt Ruth brought to the process is she took the profile and painted it, using pastels and sometimes colored paper/ foil to dimensionalize the work. What we have is a singularly fresh, modern representation of the sitter that presents the sitter in 1840 as someone we could meet today. This work reminds me of children’s book illustration, and Alex Katz’s portraits.

Profile Portrait of a Young Woman, Her Braided Hair @orn with a comb

I particularly love the sensitivity of her line work, the blends she does with the back of the women’s hair, and the flat background colors—that complement the sitter, but not overwhelming the likeness.

The image to the right—she takes one step further. Aunt Ruth uses the foil that she used as accents in her portraits and makes it dominant—feeling almost renaissance in feeling and tone. I am so taken with this from the odd placement of the figure on the field, to the use of materials, color, the gradient hair, the linework…its all pretty elegant given the world of 1840, of Ammi Phillips’ grand portraits, the triangular ladies of Field, and the advent of daguerrotypes. Surprisingly, these are not rote images and to me, transcends the change in technology as Bascom changed the process and technique—-bringing silhouettes along with her engaging work.

Ugh

I was minding my own business, kind of digging deep into another artist and then freaking Squarespace keee-rashhhhhhed. UGH. Will muster the mojo…but just not now. The work I have to share is so lively, and lovely that my crankiness needs to dissipate before another attempt. Here is a “60 year old woman” from my short lived dive into daguerrotypes. She is a little happier than I am…but we both are old, opinionated broads. Not our first time at the rodeo.

Erastus Salisbury Field (Leverett, Massachusetts, May 19, 1805 – Sunderland, Massachusetts June 28, 1900)

Oops! Fell down another hole. Learn about Field here >. Yep. He’s a primitive painter—but really was gripped by triangles (you will see). The dude had something going on. Ladies and these nutty organza collars? shawls? like our friend Ammi Phillips had (only Phillips was ever so more puritanical). Some of these paintings are templated (red curtain on left, landscape on right) but many are just sock in the likeness and put a nice neutral in the background. However from his portraits, he evolved to doing these nutty landscapes and architectural images which (at least with the Garden of Eden one really makes me think of Pennsylvania’s pride, Edward Hicks who painted around the same time).

The Garden of Eden, 1860.

Interesting insight on the image below:http://www.tfaoi.com/aa/3aa/3aa157.htm
and https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:The_Historical_Monument_of_the_American_Republic_by_Erastus_Salisbury_Field

Historical Monument of the American Republic, 1867–1888
Oil on canvas, 9 feet 3 inches x 13 feet 1 inch, Museum of Fine Arts, The Morgan Wesson Memorial

Another view

Rob Cassetti talks about the change in opera when it had competition. Opera was challenged for audiences by the advent of the motion picture. Movies pushed Puccini, for example, to create a big “The Girl of the Golden West” (La fanciulla del West)—creating big, live music that could not be replicated in a movie theater. New technology drove art to change…putting movies on one path, and forcing the traditional medium to change—to keep audiences and to stay relevant. This is the case of illustration—-and the whole schism around traditional media and digital…with digital being poo-poo’ed for not being “real” or legitimate. Technology challenges the status quo—and those either adapt or move aside. Technology may not subsume the traditional—but it does challenge it.

To that, I was plugging away at looking at Ammi Phillips (April 24, 1788 – July 11, 1865) work and discovered in a “no duh” moment that he was working when the first daguerrotypes came on the scene while he was painting (the last 25 years). This creates an interesting time— a blend—when technology, technique, and art purpose can shift due to a new media—a new availability to create images. One can have an oil painting reflecting tradition, wealth, and privilege which would associate you with like people or have a daguerrotype made—showing you “in the moment” with out romanticism, with no softening. A daguerrotype was a singular image like a painting, but very portable and very real. Lively, living breathing people.

Interestingly, as I looked at the Library of Congress pages— daguerrotypes showed not only living people, but people who smiled, laughed and who had joy in others (pairs of children, groups of sisters). Having a daguerrotype made was something that was a democratic process— with every shape, size, age, race, background and the Library of Congress' collection brought that home while scrolling though all the images. These images show what these people really looked like, how they chose to show themselves—unvarnished—from images of dentists pulling teeth to sweet brothers holding hands.

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Clark sisters, five women, three-quarter length portraits, all facing front
Grandmother and aunts of photographer Frances Benjamin Johnston. Digital Id cph 3d02003 //hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/cph.3d02003 . Library of Congress Control Number 2004664300

I thought I would go grab a selection of women’s images from the Library of Congress’ online collection to see how a woman might portray herself in a daguerrotype versus the staid portraits that were frozen in time and romanticized by the limner, Ammi Phillips. Could there be clues from a fashion standpoint? layout? design? connection with the viewer? Love Phillips, but let’s just look at what else was happening….even beyond Matthew Brady and his game-changing work and vision.

Here we are (selection was made from images 1840-1849)— and what a group of lovely, real women we have in front of us….women we might know today —work with, socialize except for the clothes that they are wearing and the impossibly time-consuming hair. Many of these wormen are connecting directly with the photographer showing their inner self either with confidence like the awesome Clark sisters, the coy flirtiness of the lady (third row/left), to the insecurity of the picture taking and her youth (center top). These are people who want to be seen, to be captured in the moment—perhaps as a present for a family member, friend or love. These were women with edges, with inperfections, with wit and personality and were not icons of “nice girls”. How did Ammi Phillips respond to this? How did he address this freshness, this change, these portable portraits that were a window into the sitter’s life—many showing similar poses (proper ladies with books, caps) but not romanticized—complete with physical imperfections and souls showing through their eyes.

Technology changed portraiture. People continued to have their portraits painted, but having an option, a more democratic option which was more affordable, portable and a true window into a living person also had it’s appeal. There were couples together, babies together, and families together. There is a daguerrotype of a father and his sons with the bible. There were many, many images of black people—who took advantage of this shift. No conclusions here…just observations on how daguerrotypes touched a much wider swath of people—and captured more of the reality of the time.

Ammi Phillip's bonnet

I am doing a bit of research on “primitive” American portraits and enjoying jumping in with both feet. I was looking at limner painters and found Ammi Phillips ( April 24, 1788 – July 11, 1865), also referred also as the Kent Limner . I love the formats of the time that were de rigueur and am am collecting images to better understand and categorize them. Unfortunately, I will be torturing you with my findings.

Philllps was born in Connecticut and starting painting when he was young. Wikipedia says:

“He enters the documentary record as an artist in 1809, at the age of 21, with advertisements in both The Berkshire Reporter[3] and a Pittsfield, Massachusetts tavern[4] proclaiming his talent for painting "correct likenesses," distinguished by “perfect shadows and elegantly dressed in the prevailing fashions of the day.” Although Phillips also advertised his talent for "fancy painting, silhouettes, sign and ornamental painting,"[3] he soon specialized as a portraitist. His work satisfied the local standard, and within two years Phillips was receiving regular portrait commissions from community leaders in this area of western Massachusetts.[3]”

I find it interesting that he comes from a decorative background, silhouetting and stylish painting. Phillips was a practitioner of an expected style with his artistry being a plus. His figures reflect that paintings were made to be sn to illustrate how a member of the household would be remembered as a legacy as a justifying the privilege they chose to embrace.

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Detail of the bonnet.

Part of Phillips’ props “kit of parts” included this highly ornate, organza, embroidered and beribboned bonnet that was placed on many customers for their portraits. What a silly, over the top bonnet—on all sorts of ladies from young, to old—with the bonnet telling us that this woman has married well (married women wore inside bonnets), and she spends her time doing lady’s work—reading, needlework. You will also note a common collar in three of the portraits—perhaps also pre-painted or part of the artist’s prop closet? The older lady (the first image) has a decorative ribbon which shows up in other portraits Phillips has painted.

As a limner, it almost suggests that these paintings were already set up in advance, and only the faces were painted live. Limners were itinerant painters, so to have pre-painted paintings made the transaction quicker as the faces were painted in…and on you went (leaving the paint to dry). Just a thought.

I am looking at other models to better understand this particularly American period of decorative art, portraiture and design. This seems to click with all sorts of things I love to bits.

Sunshine in a rain storm

Welp. You just never know.

Thursday night , I mourned my little athletic dog—and the life he could have had. I grieved about the time we had together and the life in the future I took for granted. I reflected on his quirks from playing with doors with his nose, his herding me whenever he had an idea of what we needed to do, to his broad curiousity around the world that his previous life as “Mitchi (their spelling) from Queens” to Mitchy Ray Sunshine of Trumansburg. Country squire, lover of people, crowds, squirrels, deer, NYS sharp cheese, white hots, aand the opportunities to flee or tease us to chase him. He was verging on zombie dog that afternoon. After the cycle of being taught by a very precise and loving vet, it seemed that there were two options—Mitch lives, or Mitch dies. I was not right with any of this, but as I said choking down the emotions to Rob while we waited to do the hard work on Friday morning, I want to be mindful. I want to be there for Mitch. I believed he would tell us what to do.

And he did.

We were back at the Cornell Companion Animal Hospital getting the full experience from the amazing scene of the waiting room with animals of every shape and size, breed and age, with their handlers who reflected the same spectrum. It is always very exciting and funny. Truly, I could sit there a day a week for the happy factor. Dog people want to hang with other dog people. It’s i a great place to make life long dog friends and share the love of dogs, their companionship and quirks, and the import they have in our lives.

Rob and I were shuttled into another one of the holding rooms to wait, and then spend time with our bully boy. He blazed into this space, tail twitching, ears up—fully alert and delighted to see his people—who are two poles of electricity—-his alpha and his beta—and he is the charge in-between. For Mitch, black and white is nice, but there is a lovely spectrum of grey. And so, we decided to take him home. No doubts about it. If we could have a little more time of lake breezes and long drinks, of snapping at bugs and sleeping on a puff—then we will take it.

So, armed with a plastic bag of meds and a magical punch list of what, when, how—we took our little prancing boy to the car on a rainbow leash. He was ecstatic. And, in the Cassetti tradition of, “you do well at the doctor, there is a treat”—Mitch got a full order of hot chicken nuggets which, after not eating his whole time in the hospital was heaven— which he (Mr, Temperature Sensitive) inhaled— smacking his lips and snapping his jaws. And so it began. He is so, so happy. Rubbing his head against us. Sleeping on his puff with all four legs in the air. Drinking heartily from the tub faucet—breathing in energy wherever it is.

My thinking is that time with our guy — who is living off the standard for his kidneys, every day is a gift. My job is to run the best canine hospice for our brave boy, and let him savor the tings he loves. So, food is whatever he eats. There are drives. Everyday, our drive to the lake (normally a 12-15 minute drive) is 45 minutes to an hour with the windows open, frequent stops to inhale to fragrances and smells. Oh my goodness, the smells. He absolutely drinks it in—tongue out, swiping at the essence of fresh grass, or flowering milkweed. Standing still—with the car still as well—-hearing the sounds, watching the birds and tasting the country.

Our first night of our long drive through the countryside— we drove through a light rain in a brilliant blue sky summer day. Sunbeams in the rain. My tears despite Mitch’s mindfulness. “ Look at what we have now, Q.” is his encouragement. And so, I turned off the radio and stopped the car to smell the cut grass and flowers in the air. To confirm this—we pullled onto the road that is populated with an Amish school and several farms. I saw two young amish boys…maybe 5 or 6 years old…I only saw heads/hats and their shoulders until they emerged out of field—with one boy in an electric wheelchair pulling his friend in a little wagon. They were in the moment, taking advantage of what they had—and not mourning what they could have or be. They exuded life and joy. “Learn from that Q.”, Mitch reminds me.

He is drinking robustly but being fussy about eating. I got a big talk from the Vet about dog food…and though I have done all of that, he turns his nose up. So, I am nurse in charge at hospice…pushing the pills and giving him food he will eat. It may not be the perfect medical solution, but he is eating….and that gives both of us pleasure.

Mitch is still here. Waning, but fiercely still here. And I will be here for him until it’s time.

My golden prince

I have told you about Mitchy Ray Sunshine, my co-pilot and friend —almost a year in from the date I picked him up at the Jehovah’s Witness Conference in Reading, PA under the cover of darkness. He is my ray of sunshine, my golden haired boy who lives to breathe the country smells—-hanging his beautiful head out the window to drink it all in, tasting it, savoring the summer as an aphrodisiac that my head understood and now my heart does too. I haven’t told you of his likes and dislikes— his love of dream bones with the terrier dance of joy in receiving them, the thrill of soup bones, and the comfort of his bed. I haven’t told you about his thrill in squirrels and being off leash—leading us on a merry chase throughout the neighborhood because he could—-with a saucy toss of the head and away he went. I haven’t told you of how he fell in love with us, just as much as we have with him from peaceful companionship on the deck of the porch, to claiming every stuffed animal in the house, to being a friend to every eye poking child or happy adult to meet him.

He has been my teacher, my mentor exclaiming every morning that today was going to be a brilliant, happy day. He had one of the strong ladders that were put down in my deep hole to help me raise myself from the darkness because his life has no dark corners, no sad spots. His life is filled with love and joy—-and a little anxiety which, he was finally quieting with his comfort in us and our life. His humor and head tilt was a reason to laugh—as he was one to give me many. He is one do pull me away from my desk (often pulling my shirt and tugging) to say there is more to life than this silly work you do. He herds me downstairs making sure I hit every step…always on the inside like a gentleman. He knows my routine—from the glasses go on, the phone is put in the pocket and the cane is grabbed and he is up and read…stubby tail wagging to partner with me from the moment I woke up to the next time we sleep. He followed for fabulous drink from the faucet to listening and returning when I call off leash (mostly). We were rarely apart—and I felt it and missed his glow, his intelligence and to my thinking his deep understanding. He is my dear companion—who I have been blessed to live with for this short time.

I picked Mitch up from the vet where he was boarding—-as we were out of town. The vet-tech said that he hadn’t eaten his breakfast which wasn’t an oddity—but was a note. This was last Tuesday. Mitch was quieter but I thought it might have been from going to Camp (which is what we called going to the kennel). But Wednesday and Thursday came with no eating and little drinking. He was lethargic and listless. Friday, I took him to the vet— who gave him subcutaneous infusion, fancy dog food and an appetite encourager….and he was so dehydrated, they suggested I look at his gums to see if he needed another infusion the next day. He did…so Saturday, it was the same. Sunday—slower/more lethargic though I made him his favorite, fried eggs and he scarfed them down in no time. Monday, more lethargy, but more eggs….and he was doing some crazy things like not being right next to me, standing in closets, and looking off in an aimless way—not like the targeted missile he generally projected. Tuesday, I called the vet again and we had blood drawn at 2pm. By 3, I had a call to say his kidney and liver functions were off the charts and to get to Cornell Vet Hospital ASAP. By 3:30 we were at Cornell getting him in ICU—with the team focusing on stabilizing him. Not worth getting into the detail but prior to data, it was projected that Mitch could have anything (on a spectrum) from a big urinary tract infection, to Lepto (a bug) to something critical that either had protocols to live a good life to one of death. We left him in Cornell’s care, with Mitch walking by the doctor like the show pony he is, ears up, tail up, and a bounce to every step.

Here we are two days later. I decided that one visits family in the hospital, so I went to visit to see how he was. No flowers but a dream bone for him. We played a little…but it was no Mitchy joy dance…slamming that bone and tossing it in the air as high as it could go. It was no Badgerdome experience—-but more that he was humoring me. He did not have the bounce to the ounce—and knew me—but couldn’t really stay up sitting, or even standing and slid to the floor at my feet as I hugged him and patted him and let him know we loved him. His doctor came in and gave it to me straight with lots of biology until I asked he point blank whether his kidneys were destroyed…and she said they were. His is not able to retain fluids—and that they have run out of options as he has Glomerular Disease— a condition that if not caught early can lead to chronic kidney disease. The doctor said that he has had this for quite a while….and yet, we did not know our ray of sunshine was not 100%. But that Mitch’s time was limited—and that we needed to think about next steps.

So here I am. Crying. Tearing rolling down my face over the decision that really has been already made about our dear boy, our sweet prince who brings light and laughter to me. Here I am missing him already—though I think he is already on his journey. He was not himself, and was glancing at the angels in the corners of the room—ears up, tail up—-seeing friends that were not in my spectrum of sight. I hope that's the case. My boy needs companionship on this next adventure— friends who will love him for his dear personality and life.

I hope I can give him the joy in release that he has given me. Mitch deserves the best because he is the best from the top of his ears to the tip of his metronome tail—including the laugh, the prance and his golden heart. My heart is broken losing a dear friend such as this dog. I have such blessings—and this comic dog is a great one.

Small Engine-Turned Passion

I learned about engine-turned objects when I worked at Tiffany & Co. in the late eighties. I was the manager of publications—with a team of people that reported to me, and responsibility to design and produce well on 20 catalogs a year (along with a big 100 pp glam book). It was a tough job as it was literally driving a publication machine from shooting the objects, through real/old fashioned retouching, to mechanical art and all that that entailed to printing. We went through so much paper, we bought it by the railroad car—but direct mail drove that business, and we were intregal to that effort. What we did rang cash registers—and knowing as much as I could about the customer, their taste and any information on possible upsells made the process fun for me. Additionally, it was at 57th and Fifth Avenue—in a headquarters that checked your pockets as you went in and out—and product was carried between floors by armed security in robin’s egg blue locked boxes.

Note all the craziness in the background, around the frame of the Annuit Coeptis, the frou-frou embracing the bits of text—that there is guilloche.

My time at Tiffany also taught me more about objects, jewelry, watches and the china/glass world and through that, I learned to love engine-turned objects— little boxes, belt buckles, men’s small goods. I look for it..in the lovely, over the top Faberge pieces. Another word for engine-turned is “guilloché ". Wikipedia says that Guilloché might have been derivative of M. Guillot, who invented the tool/or turning machine in and around the 1770s. One might see engine turning or guilloche in products particularly those more luxe…and it migh be in important collateral print like bank certificates, currency, diplomas, paper products also of great worth and honor. To put it mildly, I so so love this stuff. It “brings it” and by being clever with it, the designer/illustrator brings all the references of elegance, luxe, hand engraved to the design. So..with that in mind, I am on a course to learn how to fake guilloche in illustrator to possibly have the skills to apply it to wine/cider labels, to logotypes for products that might benefit from a little shine.

There are a lot of cool tutorials online to learn aspects of guilloche, but I think once you have the few tricks that are out there, then it really is honing in on the look and going rogue/creating a library of forms, brushes and textures. Illustrator does so much of this stuff anyway, that building a library with a little time/effort could be really fun to do. There are a few generators that you can download (one is $500. for the privilege) Excentro. Artlandia has one that is less expensive, but really with the tools in illustrator, why not give it a shot. This may force me to be a bit less wiggly and more precise, but why not?

Meet Mitchy Ray Sunshine.

Our Shady Grove died—and it was a very sad time. I didn’t know I missed her so much—but I did. So, I started to look for dogs often driving to the SPCA to have the dog that was posted online, gone before I got to even say hello. This was multiple years of “almost” getting a new, used dog. So this went on and on—and I wasn’t having any luck. I decided that the only course was to get a puppy and raise it. After some research, I found a great goldendoodle breeder nearby and put money down on a pup and waited. I wont go into detail on that thread, but as everything seems to be—it was not simple.

Kitty came to visit and she participated on an “almost” moment with a rescued havanese/maltese mix who was adorable. But it was “almost” with no cigar. She and I were crushed. So, she started talking it up in NYC to all of her friends.. One friend knew of a dog who was “coming up”—the brother to his dog (also rescued)—and would we be interested. After about a minute, the answer was absolutely- and that is how Mitchy and the Cassettis connected. Only thing is that I needed to drop everything to go get him. And I did.

Mitch (Mitch was named Mitch by his first owner) grew up in Queens, living in a small one bedroom apartment. After meeting him, I was stunned to thing this cuckoo bananas dog lived in a tiny apartment with a very circumspect life. I get ahead of myself.

Kitty’s friend picked him up in Queens and drove him (and Mitchy’s sister for company) to Reading PA where he was visiting family. Kitty’s friend was awesome— trying to get him in some order, trimming hair and getting himin working order. prior to their trip to meet me. I drove down from Tburg—taking a very fun bunny route (not the highway, but the biway) to Reading through coal country. I checked into a hotel in downtown with a convention of the most lovely Christian people—all dressed up and so kind. I had dinner at the hotel bar watching a few of my Christian friends slam a few cocktails—and waited. At 9 p.m. the phone rang and the message was for me to be downstairs for the pickup/drop off. Up pulled this little orange car filled with two over energetic airedales —straining at leashes. I handed over the rehoming fee and was handed a leash and off my new friends went leaving me with this maniac, Mr Mitch. He was unlike anything I had ever seen—-vigilant, funny and smart. Too smart.

Mitch and I went up to the room at the hotel —I had set it up with food/water etc. and he was franticly checking all the windows and doors (and mirrors as they are kind of doors) all night. Poor devil—it was this circle of windows and doors, windows and doors and then strange sounds with this strange lady. It was not a restful night for either of us. Morning came at 5 a.m when I told Mitch we were going home, and we did. He got in the car and was stunned at the smells as we drove through the countryside to the lake. As soon as we got home, I got him set up—and clipped to a long leash around a chairleg on the porch, both of us passed out with the lake breezes wafting over us. That was day one.

Starting some sketches.

I got a crazy project. Kee RAY Zee…

The way it worked was I got an email from a man who I never had met—for a project I never ever would have thought would cross the transom of my office. But it did. And, I have rearranged my life to do the work. I negotiated a pretty impressive contract (in another language), figured out how to get paid, processes and tools to use to make the project flow be smoother….It is a bit stunning. I still have hair on my head, and can hold a pencil despite the backdraft…but truly it has given me life and a little more spirit than I have had in at least 4 years.

I cannot tell you about the work, but maybe a few snapshots from the sketches will humor you. Things to know are…1. be an expert or known for a subject matter and tag the crap out of the illustrations. 2. own that topic…so that when the topic is searched…your name and images come forth. Truly. That is how this client found me. And the nutty thing is, that it works that I am both a designer and an illustrator for this work—- the discipline and knowledge of how to be “in brand” is lapping over into the illustration work. The client has a very specific palette—very definitive signature elements that they love seeing it surface in the illustrations. That plug and play approach that branding has instilled in my thinking really makes that so easy—and fluid. And for that, I am grateful.

Spring is here. Mitchy is here (and you havent met him)—and life is continuing in a sweeter way. For that, I am thankful and so glad. I am back from a deep dark hole….and so pleased to be back.