Does the barcode on a can of beans look like art to you? It might, if you live in Japan.
A few days ago, after I finished rolling on the floor laughing over engrish.com (and remembering how my own goofs kept the entire French city of Clermont-Ferrand entertained,) I moseyed over to the site's blog for a look-see. I will never badmouth barcodes ever again. At least I won't if we start using the Japanese ones! Look!
Aren't those great? I found them at engrish.com's page, here. These geniuses designed them. Why not enjoy a few more?
How fun! Of course, the folks at www.d-barcode.com aren't the only ones to make art from barcodes.
Thanks to artist Scott Blake, you can own your very own barcode art. And so can your dog! Photo by Scott Blake Click on the dog to zoom over to his etsy store, and be sure to check out his websiteas well. His barcode portraits are incredible. See what I mean?
So what do you think? Would you like to see your face in barcodes? Do you wish we could banish the barcode and return to the days of the tiny sticky price tag? Personally, I'd love to find some barcode creativity on my next stop to the Bi-Lo.
Jerri Gray, one of Triune's artists Last week I attended an art show at Triune Mercy Center, and it super-charged me. Remember Triune, the non-denominational church with the central mission to help the homeless? I blogged about it back in September, and introduced you to my amazing friend, Pastor Deb Richardson-Moore.
One of the coolest things about Triune is its art room. Karen Lucci, a local artist, came up with the idea, and now it's the hopping place to be every Sunday and Wednesday afternoon. There are no classes--just supplies and open seats at the tables. You can't always tell who is homeless and who isn't, and it doesn't matter. About a year ago, several art room regulars approached Karen with an idea. They would donate their art for a sale open to the community with the proceeds going back to Triune. After receiving so much from the ministry, they wanted a chance to be the providers. Last Thursday it happened. And lucky for us, Sam and I were able to attend.
We enjoyed food and conversation with the artists... as well as some incredible art. Much of it was religious in nature. Like this one... Stunning. And this lovely piece... And this folk art...
But other subjects were also explored and expressed. I like this too.
If all of those pieces weren't enough to warm your heart, there were artfully made scarves and clothing for sale as well. It was a chilly night, but we left toasty warm and completely inspired. I hope this kindles your creativity too! Have a great Monday, y'all! Love, Becky PS. Almost forgot! A billion thank you's to Lacey Ruff, a beautiful, talented, generous Furman student I met at the show, who was sweet enough to lend a total stranger her camera when the dodo brain (me) left her memory stick at home. Thanks, Lacey!
Photo by engrish.com How I love engrish.com. Have you two met? If you've ever struggled with a second language, you must bebop over there and take a look around. I'm serious. March right over there, young lady. Hop to it, mister. But be warned: you might want to wear a diaper. Or maybe that's just me.
Oh, how it thrills me to read things like this. Photo by engrish.com That's probably because the signs and posters and advertisements remind me of the millions of times during my French life when I tried to literally translate my words and they came out wonky. You think I'm kidding? Read my book. Or read Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. I especially recommend the chapter in which he tries to explain Easter in his pitiful French. It makes me weep with happiness.
It's a good thing that when people hear others trying desperately to speak their language, their hearts swell with tenderness. And they look upon them in the same way that one would gaze at a newborn babe. Or a puppy. And sometimes they see the profound sweetness in the wonky words. Photo by engrish.com Or maybe I'm a sentimental fool.
I'll have some Skal water to go with that apple pie, please. Photo by engrish.com I would so like to be transported to the cow-mooing meadow.
Have a fantastic weekend, y'all! Love, Becky
Oh, and enjoy this favorite video of mine. You might want to get a tissue in advance.
So do you like this headboard, or does it plunge your psyche into torment? I haven't decided yet. I found it the other day, over at my pal Linda Crispell'smarvelous blog, and at first I was a fool in love, ready to kick to the curb our hundred year old French bed (which I bought in our Clermont life for $35-the tightwad in me is still high fiving myself.) I even scoured the internet and discovered how to make that headboard myself, but then my morning shot of caffeine wore off, and reality set in. Here's what reality said: You're an author. You want to do that to books? Pull out their guts, paint them like harlots, and then slap them on a piece of MDF board from Home Depot? It seemed wrong to me.
Then my amazing agent, Nathan Bransford, strolled into my brain, adding his logical, reasonable arguments to my internal debate. Nathan's been spreading Kindle love all over the internet for several months now, but I haven't surrendered to the dark e-reader side as yet. Have you?
I know it's ridiculous and that books don't have feelings, but I still feel sad for all the books out there, bookshelves full, like islands of misfit toys. But then something wonderful happened. Last night, as I was hiding in the office, hoping a dishwashing fairy might flitter down to my kitchen and clean up after dinner, I started a google search that renewed my hope. I thought I might share it with you. Please don't hate me, book lovers. Be assured that I'm still in no hurry to trade my musty old books for a plastic piece of technology, (sorry Nathan.) I just love to see upcycling in action. If you're curious about the things you see, a click on the photo will transport you back to its mother site.
First, a vase by artist Laura Cahill. I found it on dezeen.com. She does lamps and side tables too.
Yes, that lamppost is made of book pages. (!)
I wonder what Nathan would think of this. Photo by geeksugar.com One of your favorite books, right Nathan? Does it tug at your heartstrings a little bit?
I love this book-shelf. Though I wouldn't put anything on it. Photo by not-tom.com
This is also cool. Photo by lockengeloet.com
How about book jewelry? Jamie Keiles makes them over at etsy. I found them at craftzine.com.
If a bracelet/wrist cuff isn't your style, how about a purse? Photo by prettytheory.etsy.com I bet they'd make man bags too, if you asked nicely.
I'd love to wear this piece of jewelry around my neck. It's by the artist Janna Syvanoja, featured at charonkransenarts.com
Enough daydreaming. It's time to get back to writing a new book of my own. If only I had this desk! Desk by Richard Hutton Have a great Wednesday, book lovers out there! Love, Becky
http://www.flickr.com/photos/globetrotter1937/ / CC BY-SA 2.0 Who knew that a quirky fruit like the persimmon could help save a family farm? It did! Here's part of the farm I'm talking about, before all the crowds arrived on Saturday. It was a gorgeous fall day on the Stafford family farm, a perfect day to host the Colfax Persimmon Festival. We got up bright and early and drove three hours to get there, not because we love persimmons, (don't ask me about my puckery childhood persimmon memories) but because we love this man. This is Gene Stafford. I want to say he's related to the Ramseys, but in truth it's only by heart. Gene became especially dear to our family almost three years ago when Todd's Uncle Harold was killed by a subordinate at work. Harold and Gene had been close friends for many, many years, and he was one of those sweet souls who stood with us in mourning and in celebration of Harold's life. Since Harold's death, he's even been a part of our family gatherings. We love him dearly.
Gene's family has owned the Stafford farm since the 1700's, but the taxes are expensive. So he came up with the brilliant idea of raising money by hosting a persimmon festival. This was its second year and a great success!
All sorts of vendors rented space to sell their wares. There was incredible ironwork.
People pressing apples into cider...
And gourds! Amazing! I love the bowls too. Cheryl Hudgins is the artist. You can find her in Kernersville, NC.
There was even barbecue! Hey! I know that guy with the pig! That's my father in law, working his BBQ magic. They sold a pig's worth of sandwiches, plus more they'd brought from home. With sweet tea, of course! What more could you want? BBQ, gourds, music and sunshine.
Not to mention saving an old homeplace. (Underneath that siding is a log frame!)
So how was your weekend? I hope you had a nice one!
Love, Becky PS. Here's the weirdest persimmon video I could find. Maybe it's France's fault, but I love watching TV in another language and trying to guess the story line. Can you figure it out?
Can you name this city? I can do it in six notes. I mean letters. (Remember that show?) City hint#1: a most delicious omelet. City hint #2: the mountains. Yes, it's Denver, the first city I fell in love with as a grown up. I'm thinking about Denver today because my friend May recently did a fabulous postconfessing she was torn between two lovers: San Francisco and New York. It made me think about all the towns I've loved before and the lessons each one taught me. Or should have.
And it made me curious about you. I'd love to know where you've lived and loved. Feel like sharing?
I'll go first. I'll try not to be long winded. Thanks to the Air Force, it's not a short list.
1. Denver, as shown above. Lesson I should have learned? Don't be so in love with the mountains and Todd Ramsey that you neglect to ask how much the teaching job pays before you sign the contract. (Still it was fun. Who needs money when you have love?)
That's not my photo, but it's exactly what I remember. Lessons learned? If you live near a corn flake factory, you constantly thirst for milk. And Omaha's suburb Papillion might be spelled like the French word for butterfly, but if you pronounce it that way, Nebraskans will laugh at you.
Beautiful, huh? Our apartment complex wasn't in this part. We lived in a neighborhood which my sweet mother in law once called The Projects. Lesson: When men are always huddling together, trading things in the parking lot of your apartment complex, you ought to move.
Coming home can be beautiful, even while puking into the car's air conditioning vents on the way to your first day of work. Especially if it's because of morning sickness. (But do sell the car. It will never be the same.)
6. Greenville/Greer, SC There are cool people in every town, just waiting for new friends. Small towns are great for kids.
7. Clermont Ferrand, France Life is to be enjoyed. Eat! Drink! Write!
So now it's your turn! Are you king of the road, or loyal to one knock out town? I'd love to hear all about it. Have a great weekend, y'all! Love, Becky
