The last days for planting.

Last week it occurred to me that I should be economical and plant some bulbs. It has been getting colder by the day and I was running out of time before the first frost. Although now it has warmed back up again, because it is New York and the weather is unpredictable, especially in the fall. On a partially cloudy, not so cold day I ventured out to the stoop and surveyed the state of it. Dead leaf debris and copious amounts of cigarette butts would have to be cleared away from my slowly fading perennials before I could even get down to the business of digging holes for the bulbs. It has been a constant battle this year between trash and plant life but I have done my best and have learned that part of the fun of urban gardening is the challenge.

I hope the daffodils make it through the winter. I was told recently, after I had already planted the bulbs, that they may not grow in a stoop with the constant freezing and thawing of the elevated ground. I am not sure if the stoop's soil is deep enough to protect the big bulbs from winter and they may not flower. They have already been planted though, and if they don't come up in the springtime to say hello, lesson learned. Perhaps the smaller bulbs (galanthus and crocus) will emerge.

Playing at florist.

The other week when my friend got married she asked me to do the flowers for her dinner rehearsal. I found myself mid day, the day of, in the flower district surrounded by tall bunches of curly willow and rows of decorative green and purple cabbages. It was overwhelming and fun to track down the stores that would sell to me in a land of wholesale and figure out how to focus among all the options. I had to find something that would fit in wine bottles (the bride's vase of choice) and something that would remind people it was autumn despite the humidity and rain of the day. I ended up deciding blush toned dahlias were the answer coupled with berries (some related to eucalyptus and some other red berries that apparently were some form of pepper). I later decided something was missing and added a hand full of deeper colored dahlias from my favorite local flower shop back in Brooklyn. I decided there needed to be more color for the dining room was white from floor to ceiling.

When college friends get married...

You get to make them fun cards. One of my closest friends from college got married last Saturday. I drove to the border of Jersey and PA for the occasion and it was a lovely ceremony with traditional vows and a party after at the country club with a spread of too much food and booze and the best of company. This seems to be the year of marriage for my fellow Syracuse alums and it makes me feel old and it makes me feel happy and most of all it makes me feel in awe of my friends for their willingness to dive head first into a life of commitment and twos. To trust in the love you have for someone and the love they have for you is remarkable. And so I toast to all my friends out there brave and lucky enough to find such happiness this year. It has gotten me thinking about marriage and love and as a result I have been having some fun with wedding card ideas. The one posted here is the card I made for the happy couple of last weekend's wedding. My friend is a guy and it is I must say quite girly but the present was masculine.

(back of card) (front of card)

(inside of card)

all images above © 2009 by Ivy Hickam

My sister is turning 30 on friday.

I can't really believe it. And I probably shouldn't have announced that to the world. But nothing to be ashamed of. 30 is the new 20. And who wants to be 20 again anyway? And she looks so young and lovely. And besides she does not read my blog because she is unaware of its existence as of yet. Which is why I can post the card I just made especially for her before her actual birthday. I can not on her birthday because I will be with her in Vegas and I will be buying her a big drink. We are both getting older in the next week. Crazy how time flies. But I can still remember riding her banana seat bike and playing dress up for hours (actually I played with vintage fabric for this card, and it was really fun). And we are not too old to dance. Dancing is always the answer.

(back of card) (front of card)

(inside of card)

© 2009 by Ivy Hickam

Words my mother has told me.

My mother has sent me many letters and notes over the years. She started this when I moved all the way across the country to go north east for college. In many of these she tucked away quotes and poems that she thought I may find useful. I was going through some papers in my studio today and I found a book I used to compile these all in. And I revisited Robert Frost. It's remarkable how much more this poem speaks to me now than it did back when I read it probably freshman year. I don't just understand it now, now I relate my life to it. Life goes by so quickly when it's at its best. The loveliest moments are fleeting but isn't that why they are so magical?

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

Feel better.

I have been under the weather since Saturday. Head colds are no fun and they seem to come always at the most inconvenient times. Because really when is it convenient to have a head cold? Anyway it reminded me about a card I made awhile ago (the front of the card is above and the inside is below). I drew it to actually cheer myself up one day I was feeling blue. It seems like a good card to give when someone is under the weather as well. Hopefully it will make me feel better. And make you feel better if you happen upon it and are in need of it. And now it's time for some r and r and a real cup o' tea.

all images above © 2009 by Ivy Hickam

Water Lilies in the rain

Water Lilies, Claude Monet. 1914-26. Oil on canvas, (right side of three panels), each 6' 3/4" x 13' 11 1/4". Now on view at the MOMA.

It was a cold, wet day out today. With snotting interspersed with gusts of wind. Perfect, I thought, for crawling deeper under the quilt and sleeping half the day away. Or Perfect for braving the subway and the city streets with only one goal in mind: Monet's Water Lilies. When I finally arrived and ducked into the shelter of the MOMA it was bustling. There were so many tourists and New Yorkers coexisting, practically on top of one another, all for the sake of seeing some art on a gloomy Friday afternoon. It should have been borderline annoying but it was kind of spectacular. I thought to myself, people in this society still care about art and this proves it as I looked down from the staircase and smiled at the camaraderie below.

I enjoyed the very small room I tucked into for the temporary exhibit but only because it was member's only and does not open to the public until Sunday. I have seen some of his water lilies before but it has been years and I was giddy. I was ironically excited for the calm I knew they would bring over me. Up close when you look at all the paint, all the layers of color and texture from all the years they were painted, they are impressively chaotic. And then when you are done trying to peer through all the paint and done trying to make sense of it and you step away and you sit down on the cushy bench behind you, you find yourself staring at emotion, but it makes sense. The emotion takes over everything. All the busy thoughts you had clouding your brain, what groceries you need to buy on the way home, gone. To me the emotion the paintings evoke are dependant upon your mood that day. The paintings can appear to be melancholy themselves because you are feeling particularly sad that day and you are bringing that perspective to the work before you. My sadness went away while I was staring into the aqua pools and pink brushstrokes, they absorbed it. This moment the paintings and I shared was like having a sympathetic ear to talk to. Monet knew life was about living and seeing the beauty in the world around him and you can see this in his paintings, his own offering of beauty to the world.