NYC Food

It's been a whole year since I was in New York and I am missing it. This is also the last installment of the NYC pictures. But the best way to celebrate something is with food so I'm glad I saved this one for the end.

This is just a list of descriptions I found in my journal about some of the food we ate in New York.

· The Indian food was amazingly good. It makes me want to eat Indian food every day.
· At 10 am the strawberry iced tea was the perfect answer to the impossible heat.
· The cinnamon Sugar Donut Hole was a vanilla cake ball. Light, crumbly, smothered in vanilla sugar and reminded me of home.
· Corn on the cob grilled with butter, cheese and powdered peppers. I'm going to have to give that a try.
· The first fish taco I ever ate and it certainly won't be my last.
· A chocolate croissant for breakfast. My favourite vacation breakfast. (Who am I kidding? It's my favourite breakfast. Always.)
· A terrible, doughy, Weston's style bagel with cream cheese. Yuk.
· Sugarless lemonade. Refreshing. (I still think about how good it was.)
· A lemon tart should always be this perfect. The exact ratio of sweet to sour and served on buttery pastry.
· The tallest lemon meringue pie I have ever seen.
· Without any water, the dissolving gel capsule Advil spread through my mouth and numbed it for over half an hour.
· Good guacamole is always best served with kitschy art.
· The chocolate croissant (a different one from earlier in the week) was the worst I ever had second only to the one I ate the following day at the Montreal airport. That one was the worst.
· Cheese plate with cabbage-apple slaw, raisins, walnuts and fruit bread. A second helping of bread? Yes, please.
· A bite of the best burger I have ever eaten. No joke.
· Entertained by Paulie of Paulie Gee's pizza. He's a super guy who loves his restaurant and is proud of his pizza. Rightfully so. It was really damn good.


NYC Signage

1. I didn't write this on the wall but I wish that simply finding that needle in the NYC haystack would have been enough to make it true.

2. It's always fun to watch people painting murals. Especially when it involves giant heads.

3. If I ever find myself in Brooklyn again I am going to set aside an entire day for this place. The hand-lettered sign wasn't too shabby either.

4. This is what happens after someone is forced to sift through a stack of lack lustre resumés.

5. Why? Why didn't I go in the Record room? The sign should have been enough to persuade me.

6. Nothing does great signage like time and weather. Nothing.

7. Twinkle lights make everything prettier. Especially the candy coloured ones.

8. Benny's Burritos. There is far too much to say about that one. You'll have to wait for the restaurant edition of the NYC series.


NYC Lights

New York, you are a billion lights fracturing the landscape and I loved trying to photograph the tiny
little fragments.


NYC Tiles

In my effort to avoid blogging I also managed to put off posting the rest of my photos from New York. This is my small collection of tiles. Most of these are modest tiles from Brooklyn vestibules and New York City bathrooms. I'm sure I could have spent a week hunting down a large and truly amazing collection but these were the ones I found in my few short days there. I remember where I was when I took each one and that makes them amazing to me.


A Sharp Turn

It's been a while since I've posted any letterpress work. It's been a while since I've posted anything. I was at a loss. I didn't know what to talk about. All I could think about, I didn't want to say here. When I'm in the thick of something, I can't seem to articulate myself. I'm sure some people wouldn't share this kind of thing with the world. But writing your thoughts down in a journal like this (as public as it may be) requires some honesty. I can't seem to move ahead in this space without addressing it. I've tried. It didn't work.

I am right in the thick of the do-what-you-love generation. Here's a great article on that idea and it's pitfalls. It started in high school with the guidance counsellor breathing down my neck. The clock started ticking. People were whispering in my ear that I should find something that I love to do and make it a job. Other people were saying that I had so much potential that I couldn't do just anything. It had to be something. I had to be something. And to settle for less would be a crime. My entire adult identity would be defined by what I chose to do and how much I loved to do it. I had to make a decision. The sooner the better.

I always loved to make art. Who doesn't? Who doesn't love to cast off all of the rules, goof off, do whatever you feel like doing that day, call it art and then get paid for it. Yeah! Sign me up. I'm much wiser now. I know that being an artist (of any kind: writer, photographer, illustrator, painter, theoretical physicist) isn't like that. It's hard work. It has become marketing, networking, promoting, accounting and a tiny bit of doing the work that you love. I chose to be a graphic designer. At the time, it seemed like the perfect way to make art, get paid for it and be accepted as a contributing member of society. Had I gone the way of fine artist, I probably would have ended up in this same spot, maybe a little bit sooner, but there would have been a lot more scorn and doubt from others and a healthy I told you so in the end. I thought I was doing the right thing. Not only the right thing but the best thing. I would do what I love, get paid for it and have no societal backlash for choosing to be an artist.

I'm not sorry that I did it that way. I was able to work from home and be with my kids while they were growing up. It paid the bills. It fed us. But I didn't love it. In fact, I hated it. Every layout change, every nit picky comment and every bad client choice that overruled a great suggestion, it all chipped away at my self worth. It was a vicious cycle of doing what I love, having it picked apart, but since the work was so close to my heart it felt like they were picking away at me, my self worth would go down, but because I was lucky enough to do what I loved I would put more work out there.

Then the girls got older and I had more time and flexibility. It was my chance to get out of that vicious cycle. I thought letterpress would save me. I thought, finally, finally I can do something that I love. I will feel great. Everything will fall into place. But that's not what happened. What happened was that I had to do a lot of marketing, networking, promoting and accounting. All the things that I hate. I started to wonder why I couldn't be happy doing what I love to do. And it took me a really long time to sort it out. It took a lot of cold, hard looks in the mirror. I came to see that in my case, it wasn't fulfilling. Printing things that I thought were beautiful still ended up in the trash. It felt like the fast food version of art. No wonder all of that marketing etc. wasn't worth it. The end product only fueled my love of printing. It didn't bring a greater good to the community. At least not enough to counter the fact that it all still ended up in the trash.

Everybody needs something from their life. What I've come to realize is that, for me, there needs to be a purpose. There needs to be some aspect of what I do that is for the greater good of the community I belong to. No matter how big or small that might be. The graphic design that I used to do wasn't for the greater good. It's sole purpose was to sell people things they didn't need. Doing it fed my family so I could justify it because it was for the good of the people around me. But that's where it ended. Letterpress wasn't for the greater good. It's sole purpose was to make me happy. That's a hobby. Not a job.

I am extremely fortunate. I have been working hard at something new. I've been doing it for almost a year now. I alter clothing and teach sewing. I get to work at a great store. Their purpose is to give people skills for making things. This is a purpose that I can stand behind. But how does altering clothes feed a purpose? How does it contribute to the greater good of the community I live in? I'm helping people hang on to clothes they love. Clothes that make them feel comfortable in this big, crazy world. I'm helping to keep clothing out of the dump. I'm helping to teach people new skills. Skills that help them take care of themselves and their families. I'm helping people to see the value in mending over replacing. And this help that I'm giving out has been the biggest reward of my professional career. Seeing the smiles on their faces. Seeing their self-worth go up. Seeing them share what they've learned. All of these things make me want to go back to work so that I can do the same thing for someone else. It feels so damn good. And now I can honestly say that I love what I do.

I suppose that leaves me firmly planted in the do-what-you-love generation. I just had to go about it a different way.

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