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Collection 366 – Week 2

Published by Rebecca Raspberry // The Rebecca Project

This week is notable in the fact that there’s been rain in the Bay Area (!), and I’ve delved a little deeper in mosts of my captions for the #Collection366 project. I like where it’s heading.

Just before the New Year, I purchased a five year journal. I can never remember what I do (and the days just fly by, often unaccounted for). This will hopefully help me remember the days, one sentence at a time. I guess this #Collection366 is an extension of that.

Here’s Week 2:

04.01.2016: Finally found the time to read the book that was written just for me – ‘A Week at the Airport’ by Alain de Botton. He spent a week living at Heathrow and had access to pretty much everywhere. And then he wrote something most accessible and resonant. Knew I’d love it, and he didn’t disappoint.

05.01.2016: Easing back into the day job with my new mug from @sophiej_n. I packed my lunch (and plenty of tasty snacks!) and it was a highlight. New art supplies were delivered last night, so I stayed up late to play with my new watercolours.

If anyone was to ask me why I live in the U.S, I’d have one word to say to them: Amazon Prime.

06.01.2016: This was life today. We need the rain, but I prefer to be lying in bed in my new PJs, sipping tea, and reading a good book when it does. Perfectly reasonable. Cleared up enough for a walk at lunch, and seeing the planes landing at #SFO switch to runway 19L. Seeing the Lufthansa A380 make the turn above me was special. Better in the flesh than a grainy, zoomed in photo from the old iPhone 5. 😏

07.01.2016: Beautiful clouds over Oakland today. We have had a bunch of rain recently – more this week than for the past four Januarys combined- and everything is becoming green and waterlogged. I appreciated the break in cover again at lunch to walk the lake with friends, and it was lovely to be out in the sunshine again. Exercise and good conversation. I appreciated feeling the sting of the warm sun on my skin after so many days.

08.01.2016: In mid-2014 I decided to do something I’d always dreamed of — learn how to play the cello. Nine weeks in and I broke my wrist. It took about eight months (including surgery and relocating countries [again]) before I could resume lessons. I found a new teacher and have been making progress in 2015, which is encouraging.

Now I can’t say I’m any good, but I’m still throwing my hands at it and still (mostly) enjoying it. Learning an instrument as an adult is difficult and involves so much more practice than you could imagine to get things to stick. But, I’m trying. And it makes me happy to pursue my dreams.

09.01.2016: Helped out little Cousin Jack film the script we wrote with him recently. Today, I played ‘the classmate’ in the mocu-doc and had to whip out my Merican accent again just for the gig.

After being in front of the camera a number of times recently for various projects, I’m learning to be more comfortable and not be so critical of myself and my performance. I’m doing someone a favour, and I’m always doing my best, so that’s where I leave it.

10.01.2016: Today was Sunday. On my walk, I saw the neighbors had put out their Christmas tree to be recycled. Am curious to know what it will be when it is reincarnated. it would be ironic is if was wrapping paper. [boom tish!]

Collection 366 – Week 1

Published by Rebecca Raspberry // The Rebecca Project

…and so 2016 just happened. It felt as though I blinked and 2015 was over.

So I’ve had a few days off to replenish myself before I have to get back into the usual routine, and I have indulged my inherent night owl tendencies, mostly hitting the pillow about 3am. It’s been a wonderful landscape of sleeping, meeting friends, drinking tea, painting, planning my intentions and goals for the future, reading, listening to music and just ‘netflix and chill’. And I have really enjoyed it. Hoping to build in more moments like these in 2016, please!

2016 — the year of intentions

One of my intentions for this year is to post a photo each day to Instagram. Snippets of life, a life that seems to be passing by so quickly. So I am hoping by choosing a sliver of each day, I will have a collection at the end of the year that will memorialise long forgotten moments.

I decided upon a calendar week, starting with the 1st of January, thus meaning that for the basis of this project, 2016 has 53 weeks. And I’m okay with that.

Even though Week 1 was only three days long, here it is:

01.01.2016: Inspiration hit me at 11pm. Focusing on shadows before I install the other bits and pieces. I was working off a photograph taken at my favourite spot by Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport. The iconic tower and plane were still to come. One recurring theme for me is that I always work better at night.

02.01.2016: Exploring the streets of the Mission with @danisheriff. I’ve seen her grow up over the past 22-or-so years, and I enjoy her company. I’m proud of what she has already achieved in life, and the fact that she is always so resilient and positive and never takes herself too seriously. I’m excited to see what’s next for her. Plus, for me, it’s always a trip to share time with someone in my adopted city when you’re used to seeing them in a different context on the other side of the world.

03.01.2016: On my daily walk, I found a doorway into another world. It’s on the inside of a raised plant bed, and even has a window and welcome mat. Someone dreamed it up, purchased (or made?) the tiles, and chose where to place it. And I enjoyed finding it, immensely!

Are you doing anything differently this year?

A Christmas Tale

Published by Rebecca Raspberry // The Rebecca Project

It was dark, eerily so, in the Docklands in London. Save for a woman sweeping up ahead, we felt like the only souls wandering the streets at this hour. As we approached her, she stopped sweeping and turned towards us. She looked older than I imagined her, her clothing tattered. A hard life. As we drew nearer, a sinister smile came across her sooty, lined face. She was missing a number of teeth.

“‘Allo Guvnah!” she said as she doffed an imaginary top hat toward my companion. And then her eyes settled on me. She looked at me in my finery and inhaled sharply as we passed by. “Ooooooooh! ‘Allo dutchess! Lookin’ so luvleee…”

We took a quick left, leaving the seedy docklands of London behind us, and emerging into brightly lit Pickwick’s Place, a town square replete with stalls selling roast beef, bangers and beers. My pocket buzzed. It was my friend, P. She had texted to say she was enjoying the dancing at Fezziwig’s Christmas Party. We found her in a sea of well-dressed people waltzing along the dance floor under the watchful gaze of Queen Victoria and her Prince Consort.

$30 had gained us entry to this magical place, the annual Dickens Fair, and it was worth every shilling.

The Dickens Fair: a whole other world

The Dickens Fair was held in the basement of the Cow Palace in suburban San Francisco, with its low wooden ceilings and and dark interiors. Entry to this world was via a large black velvet curtain. The curtain acted as a time machine, and we emerged into the magical world of 1860s London.

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It was a feast for the eyes with perfectly costumed ladies and accompanying gentlemen, red coats, little boys in tweed caps and little girls with perfect ringlets. Even the smell of the place was intoxicating, with wisps of pine needles, shaved wood flooring, cinnamon almonds and old books. It even sounded more perfect than I expected with live chamber orchestras playing music and surprisingly authentic-sounding English accents.

Passing along the Grand Concourse, there were shopkeepers selling their wares – everything from books, to hats, to instruments, and Christmas decorations. There were fortune tellers ready to read your palm or your cards, artists to sketch your likeness, and German inventors flogging their wares (with some side commentary about not liking the English idea of an empire). You could splurge on a new bonnet, an antique pendant, enticing perfume, and even a pewter jug for the man of the manor.

It was marvelous to wander in and out of these shops, where the shopkeepers were surprisingly welcoming of people handling their goods and were happy to engage in some friendly banter. In the windows of the Dark Garden (offering “the finest Victorian corsetry and underpinnings”), live mannequins modeled the ‘latest’ in women’s undergarments, much to the delight of passing (costumed) lads.

That’s entertainment!

The entertainment was not confined to the numerous stages. It was all around, and it was done well. From long lost friends reuniting in Nickelby Road, to a band of little pickpockets under the watchful gaze of Fagin, to well dressed women debating whether to enjoy a pot of tea with scones and jam outside the Tea Shoppe. Over 700 costumed extras were part of the event, but the joy was in not knowing who were the actors and who were just spectators who dressed up for the event. It seemed as though everyone was part of the action.

We stopped by Mad Sal’s Dockside Alehouse for the ‘adult’ show that included some witty beer-swilling ditties, can-can dancers and plenty of double entendres with accompanying gestures. Children’s entertainment was located in the diagonally opposite end of the fair, at the Pennygaff Theatre, the Carousel and the Punch & Judy Theatre. In Tinsley Green, there were stalls where kids could craft fairy houses and where pint-sized contestants had a chance to ‘Flip the (chimney) Sweep’ into the chimney to win prizes.

You could spend hours (even days!), in this place and still not see everything on offer. Aside from the obligatory London pubs with their fine ales and hot spiced mead, there were plenty of ‘local’ gastronomic options such as roast beef, turkey, hot meat pies and fish’n’chips. There were stalls selling scones, puddings, roasted chestnuts, strawberry shortcakes, and even one selling warm cookies & cold milk. Bless!

Melting my cold, cynical heart

I tried to put my finger on what exactly was so marvelous about the Dickens Fair, what captured my imagination and made my face sore from grinning from ear to ear. It felt like a theme park for the young and old, but one that was more real (even accounting for some of the American attempts at the ‘English’ English) and even better than those that exist year round. The magic was that this one was exclusive to a particular time of year, inclusive of all (young, old, dressed up, non-dressed up, those with mobility issues etc) and most of all, it was fleeting.

I’m not a person who really embraces holidays and all that subscribing to such events entails: I’m pretty much a scrooge. I don’t decorate, I don’t really purchase or give many gifts, and I don’t really participate. But living in this world of unbridled enthusiasm for Christmas at the Dickens Fair — even for just a handful of hours — was enough to (start to) melt my cynical heart. I started to take joy in listening to Christmas carols and in learning holiday tunes on my cello, I did my shopping relatively early, and I actually looked forward to celebrating the event with my American family and friends.

But the best part of the Dickens Fair was the sense of belonging. I’d felt as though I’d found my people, my tribe. For a few weekends a year, these people — my people — donned the attire of yesteryear and let their imaginations run wild. I wanted so desperately to be a part of that. And I’ve already started planning my attire for next year’s event.

The NYC Ballet’s Nutcracker

Published by Rebecca Raspberry // The Rebecca Project

On a whim, I asked a friend to attend the screening of NYC Ballet’s The Nutcracker in San Francisco. After looking at the ticket prices at the SF Ballet, I thought this was the only way I’d get to see it this season.

It was the first time I’d seen this ballet, and I wasn’t disappointed. The sets, the costumes, the choreography! It was marvellous.

Ashley-Bouder-and-the-New-York-City-Ballet-in-George-Balanchines-THE-NUTCRACKER_Paul-Kolnik

NYC Ballet’s Ashley Bouder as Dewdrop in the Nutcracker.

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I’d always heard the Sugarplum Fairy was the premier role in this ballet, but the standout performance for me was seeing Ashley Bouder as Dewdrop.

I don’t purport (at all!) to be an expert in all things ballet, but I know what I like. She had such lightness, such joy that she radiated when she moved. It was intoxicating. I sat there, in the cinemas, overcome with emotion. Tears were the way it manifested and it surprised me.

There’s something so graceful and beautiful when you see a ballet lived, embodied by those that dance it. It’s as though the dancer is exists only to perform this for you. It’s hard to imagine these people move among us, preferring to believe they sleep in their dressing rooms and are awoken only before curtain rises to conserve their energy.

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Watching Ashley Bouder is similar to watching SF Ballet’s Yuan Yuan Tan. Both have that commanding stage presence that is required of a principal dancer at a major company. But they both have something else, for lack of a better term you could call it an ‘it-factor’.

SF Ballet’s Yuan Yuan Tan as Odette in Swan Lake.

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For me, dance can be incredibly emotional. I am lucky that I have a great friend who shares my passion for it, and doesn’t ask me why I crying.

An Introduction to Plein Air Painting

Published by Rebecca Raspberry // The Rebecca Project

On a whim, and with another reasonably significant birthday fast approaching, I asked myself what was it that I wanted. I could choose anything: a gift, a nice meal, an experience, or to purchase a ticket somewhere. Obviously there were limits (for I’m not made of money!), but I wanted to not just let another year slide as I sit here paralysed by fear that life seems to be passing me by.

And the one thing I wanted more than anything else right now was to learn how to paint.

I started my exploration where everyone else does: Google. I punched in a few keywords, and in less than a second, I had an answer. I was going to take a plein air painting workshop up in Mendocino, CA.

Heading North

I scheduled my vacation time around this adventure to maximize it and ensure I wasn’t running up and down the coast searching for cell phone reception so I could respond to press enquiries. I was going off the grid, and it was beyond exciting!

I left on Friday morning, stopping via a great art supply place in San Rafael to pick up the rest of my supplies, before continuing on up the 101, my road trip music playing on the stereo. I pointed the car north and enjoyed the changing scenery. In a few hours, I’d reached Willits. I took the 20 towards Fort Bragg. I wound my way down through a dense redwood forest, the road slick from never seeing sunlight. Parts of the road with the sunlight filtering through the enormous trees looked lifted from an Ansel Adams photograph. So many beautiful opportunities for photos were sacrificed for safety’s sake, (and I’m okay with that).

An Introduction to Plein Air Painting

The weekend’s festivities started with a lecture from our instructor about composition and her requirement for everyone to start their composition with a value study or notan sketch. A value study is where you document the areas of shadow in your composition — from areas of light shadow through to dark. This helps add drama, interest and depth to your painting. Most of the ladies had met before as they’d taken other classes with the instructor, but they were all remarkably welcoming to a new comer like myself. We bonded over dinner down by the Noyo River, in the shadows of the bridge that rises high above harbor.

The following morning was go-time. My previous experience with paints had just been acrylics, but I’d felt limited by them. So for this weekend, I’d set myself up with oils. My teacher didn’t give me step-by-step instructions on how to get started using them when I asked her, and it turned out that was exactly what I needed: the freedom to just have a go and see what happens. So I leapt in feet first, and I adore oils. I had been trying to force my acrylics to behave like oils, and now I understood that my style was much more suited to oils. I could blend till the cows come home.

One of the most liberating realisations was that you don’t always have to paint things exactly as they appear. You want the lamp-post in the painting? Go right ahead and do so. Want to omit that tree? Go right ahead. You are the master of your work.

En Plein Air

Generally speaking, plein air paintings should take two hours to paint. After that amount of time, the light changes and alters the look of the landscape. Your eyes won’t be seeing it the same way. If it’s unfinished, you can always take it back to studio to complete. For the first painting I attempted (of the gazebo and gardens at the hotel), I took about 3-1/2 hours. I wasn’t happy with it, but I allowed myself this weekend to work with a new medium and to not be so critical of my first attempts. And with each painting, I learned something new.

From there, we headed down to Mendocino, about ten minutes down the highway. Mendocino is a beautiful village in Northern California, perched on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific. It’s a real art hub, with a very active arts community there. The ladies were set on having yet another sit down meal, but I wasn’t interested. I was here to learn and paint, goddamnit, not go shopping for trinkets! I had packed snacks for precisely this reason, so I told them I was heading out to the cliffs immediately to get started. Seeing as I only managed to paint one canvas in the morning (and the program said we would paint two), I was itching to get to it and see what I could come up with in a landscape that was much more dynamic and exciting. One of the other ladies, Stephanie, joined me.

As it was coming into winter, I felt the clock ticking. We had a reduced amount of time to take advantage of the light. The first sketch I did, I immediately understood the limits in my understanding of perception in painting. I was unsure as to how to display the cliffs as they appeared before me. So I went back to my sketches and simplified them.

I painted one facing the cliffs and beaches on the South East Corner of the bay for the first one, and then I turned my attention to the sun setting into the Pacific, the headland poking into the sea from the right hand side. These were my two favourite works from the weekend by far. Being close to water, particularly the Pacific Ocean, is something I really respond to, and I can see that in my paintings. I felt very comfortable here.

Understanding Colour

In these two works, I remembered what my teacher said about not using black paint to muddy the colours. She encouraged us to see and then to paint all of the colours in the landscape. At first, I didn’t really understand what she meant.

Orange and red in the cliffs? Navy in the trees? Purple in the water?

So I thought I’d see if I could apply these colours and see what happened. I made the rocks in the bay stand out more using red. Yes! And creating the sky meant combining purple and crimson and magenta and orange and yellow. Yes! And those trees in the distance? We show them as a purple grey. YES! I understood what she meant, and that this was what my painting needed. Active colour. And from that moment, I have been mixing the colours in my head for the landscapes before me. Even two weeks later, I am still looking up at the clouds and seeing the collection of colours, not simply ‘white’ or ‘grey’.

Our final painting of the weekend required us to wake up at 6am (UGH!) to make it down to the marina in time for sunrise at 7:05am. We had to be ready to paint before the sun rose, having set up our gear and completed our value study. And the time went so fast, the light changed by the minute, the fog rolled in. It was the first time all of us were in the one place, painting variations on the same scene. The camaraderie was wonderful, and I want every weekend to be like this.

Critique

We returned to the hotel following this sunrise adventure for the critique, and I was excited to see what other people produced over the course of the weekend and to also hear what other people thought of my work. The group had produced works in oil, acrylic, pastels and charcoal. Being surrounded by encouraging and talented women was great, and each of them had a very different style. It was great to have everyone weighing in on what they liked and what they felt could be improved upon.

One of the nicest things one of my fellow painters said about my work was about the colours: she said it’s as if I had turn the volume up. I may be new to this painting caper, but I’m so glad that part of myself was conveyed and understood.

It was great to find something I really enjoy, and to find such a talentd and support group of women to enjoy their time and company. We’re talking about doing another one in Tahoe in February.

Orange, NSW

Published by Rebecca Raspberry // The Rebecca Project

After my first laptop died in 2005, taking thousands of photos from the previous five years with it, I have always been abundantly cautious about backing up my digital files. So recently, I’ve been spending a few hours each week decluttering my terabyte external hard drives to free up space, and also to make sure I’m even backing up my backups.

Today, I came across these photos from a trip I took with my two of my best mates back in 2005 to Orange, NSW. 2005 doesn’t sound that long ago, but it was ten years ago. A whole decade. I struggle to believe that.

Orange is 254km west of Sydney, and takes about four hours.

Jess, Emily and I spent a long weekend in Orange with Emily’s family and extended family. The extended family ran a boutique vineyard, called Belgravia, and we had free run of the beautiful guest cottage that was almost entirely surrounded by the vines.

The vineyard was about 20 minutes outside of town, and was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been: rolling hills, brilliant white sun, verdant green vines, and yellow brown dusty lanes. I’d spent many nights out in the open before, but it was here that I first encountered a pitch black night.

We were in town that weekend to whoop it up with the landed gentry at the famous Orange Picnic Races — the biggest day on the racing calendar in Western New South Wales. The event brings folk from the big smoke to enjoy a slice of country life, and like all good Australian festivities, it involved plenty of alcohol. Although I never had the pleasure of attending a B&S Ball to compare it to, the picnic races had all of the hallmarks of being a big day for a country romance.

And one of the most memorable parts of the weekend was getting to visit the legendary Parkes Observatory. I had wanted to visit the radio telescope for years (only partly due to my love of the movie called The Dish), and we finally made it happen. We drove in the dry, stifling January heat for what seemed like hours – the type of heat that you cannot escape from, even with the help of air conditioning. But it was worth it.

The movie ‘The Dish‘ told the story of the how the Parkes radio telescope became part of the Apollo 11 mission, receiving the footage from the moon and beaming it to television sets all over the world. It follows the (fictional) townsfolk of Parkes in the lead up to and during the first moon walk. It’s still pretty much my favourite movie, 15 years on. Every single character is a rounded and fully fleshed out and is perfectly cast (and that scene between Glenn and Janine is just so perfectly acted, it makes me squeal with delight). I have nothing but love for the Working Dog crew.