I drove by the Masonic Center of South Pasadena this afternoon, and saw the giant “Let There Be Light” engraved on the building’s façade. After the initial conspiracy theories came to mind, the Latin translation for the expression did: Fiat Lux. I’m a geek. I know it.
The last 48 hours have been illuminating indeed, and in the best way possible. I stumbled across this amazing video via an Australian photo blog I follow, and I remembered why I love life. Having never had the privilege of seeing a Turkish artist at work, or seen any finished specimens in the motherland, this documentation of Ebru in process was a real treat. I know it’s a widely respected art there, but I’m afraid Iznik took hold of the popular cultural art sector when they realized just how popular and profitable it was with tourists. Alas. I showed this video to my mom, and after it ended, she turned to me and asked, “how are we going to track him down?” I can’t express how lucky I am to have a parent who 110% supports my dreams. In this case, about 90% more than I do, myself. I laughed and told her I could under no circumstance have that conversation. And then, me being me, I found the artist’s son (who made the video) and emailed him about his father. Damn you, universe! I have a non-stop ticket to Istanbul in three weeks and I have no intention of using it!
In even more brilliant news, I received a message on Etsy asking whether I might be interested in selling my cards wholesale! Umm… SO AWESOME! Not only is this the first time I’ve ever been approached by a shop, but this shop happens to be located in southeast Portland. The lovely Charlotte of Palace apparently saw my balloon and stained glass cards and thought they’d be a good addition to her merchandise. Checking out her blog, I see a lot of our tastes overlap and I have every confidence that my work will find good homes at Palace. The cherry on top – the store is right off of Belmont, which in my brain, is home to biscuit breakfasts, cupcakes before they were cool, and the Stumptown Annex. Delicious, delicious memories. Despite the four years that I’ve been gone from Portland, it still tugs at me. It still feels like home. (One of four, I grant you.) All the drizzle, the coffee slinging, the fierce knitting. The cute boys with their plaid shirts and tattoos. I was a goner. So hooray that a small piece of me can return to a city I so genuinely love, and a neighborhood as well.
I think I see the sun rising.
Also rising: (shameless plug ahead) my new necklaces.