In ancient days before email (B.E.), my siblings and I exchanged frequent paper-and-postage-stamp letters back and forth across the sea. These days we fondly call mail of this sort "snail mail," but the letters actually traveled by jet plane. It was the custom to mark our envelopes in red ink with the words Air Mail or Par Avion to make sure they didn't get tossed onto a "slow boat to China," perhaps never to be seen again. But one of my sisters chose to write ZOOM in bold capital letters on her envelopes, and this always made me smile.
Speaking of jet planes, if you've ever flown into either of Tokyo's airports from the US, you'll know that the pilot customarily draws the passengers' attention to Mount Fuji as it looms into view below. Mount Fuji represents Japan in so many ways. Its attractive form and spiritual associations make it a popular image on Japanese New Year cards. Today I painted a Mount Fuji etegami to add to my 2013 Year of the Snake series. (Were you able to follow my train of thought to understand why this has anything to do with this week's IF topic "zoom"?)
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
december etegami newsletter
Friday, November 9, 2012
illustration friday (tree)
Thursday, November 8, 2012
corrugated cardboard 2
I think I'm starting to get the hang of using corrugated cardboard for etegami. The areas where the "ribs" show are where I cut and peeled away the top layer of paper. These are not collages. It's really fun. : )
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
corrugated cardboard
Lately, I've been making etegami that makes me feel like I'm back in kindergarten. That's a good thing, because too often I find myself trying to make "refined" etegami, forgetting that the infamous etegami motto is "clumsy is good." Making etegami from corrugated cardboard has wonderfully clumsy results. I will be sharing more details in the December issue of the Etegami Newsletter, which is scheduled to come out next week. Stay tuned!
Sunday, November 4, 2012
the mole and the earthworm
A Handy Mole
Christina Rossetti
(1830 - 1894)
To excavate his vaulted hovel,
While hard at work met in mid-furrow
An Earthworm boring out his burrow.
Our Mole had dined and must grow thinner
Before he gulped a second dinner,
And on no other terms cared he
To meet a worm of low degree.
The Mole turned on his blindest eye
Passing that base mechanic by;
The Worm entrenched in actual blindness
Ignored or kindness or unkindness;
Each wrought his own exclusive tunnel
To reach his own exclusive funnel.
A plough its flawless track pursuing
Involved them in one common ruin.
Where now the mine and countermine,
The dined-on and the one to dine?
The impartial ploughshare of extinction
Annulled them all without distinction.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
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