My brother is a philosophy Professor and the other day he mentioned a student told him that she changed her major to philosophy because of him. He didn’t know if he should be proud of her or apologize.

This made me want to pay a tribute to the person who first introduced me to printmaking which ultimately made me change my major from photography to it. Sean Caulfield came to Utah State University in 2005, my freshman year. All I knew was photo from the 4 years I invested in it in high school. I did nothing else but take black and white 35 mm photos and play volleyball. The art program at USU requires each art student to take the Visiting Artists class which is why I was forced to listen to Sean Caulfield speak and present his work. I was floored. I didn’t understand how he made such beautiful drawings. I didn’t understand how he made such soft lines. I just didn’t understand it at all and I wanted to know more. I didn’t have to go to his workshop, but I had to personally.

(via his website)

I didn’t know what to do when I got there. He handed me a copper plate and an etching needle and I probably sat there for 20 minutes having no idea what to draw. I’ve always sketched things that were in front of me since I was little and they were never all that great. Maybe I will have to dedicate a post to my old drawings to prove it. But capturing images was all I knew and was used to, not creating them. Sean gave me great advice on looking at scenery, in my case the printmaking studio, and manipulating it in some way. So without further ado, here is my very first print, a dry etch:

It makes me laugh how bad it is, but I am still in a way proud of it.

In October of 2008 I went to the Mid-America Conference, my first printmaking conference, in Fargo, ND. Yeah of all places, Fargo. Not only did I not know what to expect, I did not expect Sean Caulfield to be standing in front of me. And I really, really, did not expect him to come up to me and tell me I looked familiar. Once I told him I was from USU, he remembered and I told him how I changed my major because of him. He instantly apologized. I guess people can’t take such a compliment! He was so nice to offer me loads of information of what to do after graduation and even wrote them and resources in my sketch book. This is something I am working on now.

So once again to Mr. Sean Caulfield, thank you. You’ve changed my life for the better, and that’s nothing to be sorry about.

And to my brother, take the compliment. I thought people became teachers because they wanted to teach what they believed and change lives. Well, sometimes it happens so be proud. I’m proud of you too.

I don’t like getting personal, especially on a blog. Especially on a blog that is designated for graphic design and printmaking. But with my latest print that I literally just finished and the events that have happened this week, maybe it’s time for me to open up. Maybe it will help. Maybe not.

Yesterday my Uncle Fred died. He laid in a hospital bed surrounded by his wife and kids, unconscious as cancer spreaded through his lungs and his kidneys failing until, he slowly stopped breathing. He was a U.S. Solider and fought in the Vietnam War where he met and married my mom’s oldest sister and brought the entire family to America. Utah, to be specific. If he didn’t enlist, go to Vietnam, marry my Aunt, or bring the family over, my parents wouldn’t have met, and I wouldn’t be here. He is the second father I’ve heard of passing away this week, the first one belonging to a friend of mine. I’ve never met my friend’s dad but it broke my heart when I found out. And who knows how many other dads have passed away this very week as well.

I have not talked to my father for nearly 3 months. He was my best friend and the man I trusted the most. There has hardly been a day where we didn’t talk, until the day I found out he’s been having an affair. And if that isn’t heartbreaking enough, it’s the third throughout my parents marriage. I have no desire to talk to him, even after knowing my friend and cousins can no longer talk to theirs. But at the same time I don’t want to regret not talking to him while he’s still around. I know my relationship with him will never be the same and frankly, I’m too scared to hear what else he has to say. It could be more lies, it could be the painful truth. Saying nothing hurts the least right now.

He is the black bird in this addition to my Identity Issues series:

This is printed for Signed & Numbered’s “Mini” Print Exchange, their first in their new location on 21st and 21st, Salt Lake City. The show is still TBA.

8″x 8″. Hand printed relief, screen print, and hand coloring. Printed on Unbleached Mulberry.

This print was about him too. I just didn’t want to admit it yet.

Yesterday was a great day. Usually January 21st is a low key day spent watching Sundance films with strangers who have no idea I am one year older. The day is so consumed of inspiring and amazing films that I don’t realize my brother is also one year older and I need to call him. But this year the festival doesn’t officially start until tonight.

So what else could I do? I went to the SLC AIGA’s event where Debbie Millman, the National AIGA President, was lecturing on the psychology and evolution behind Why We Brand? Why We Buy? Yes, I went to a lecture. And I loved it!  It was a really fascinating talk.

I bought 2 copies of her latest book, “Look Both Ways,” and 1 is being sent to that redhead I talk about so much. Her birthday is the day before mine and this seemed to fit the perfect gift from me to her. I was able to get it signed and everything. And I don’t know what Ms. Millman was thinking but she wrote, “For Emily PS- You are lucky to have the best half-Asian friend there is!” I have to say, Ms. Millman is a fine lady and knows what she’s talking about.

I had many friends, some I haven’t talked to in a long long time, all wish me a great day. It’s so nice to know people are thinking of you. Then Tracy the boy brought me yummy Thai food for dinner and Jaci surprised me with cupcakes! A pretty fulfilling day!

Even though my family didn’t celebrate Christmas, we all surprised each other with small gifts. I got a few great books and the best thing of all: help restoring my press. Thanks papa! Hopefully we can get it looking like this:

It still won’t be until it gets warmer out for proper ventilation.

With the short time I had between getting back from San Francisco and dinner with the family for Christmas Eve, I painted a new holga camera to give to my cousin Britnee. With the first stroke of purple paint, I immediately regretted this decision. Her boyfriend Mark had been secretly helping me decide which holga to get her. He said anything purple or pink. I could’ve made things easier on myself and just bought a purple or a pink one but I just couldn’t do it. I hate color and even though it wouldn’t be mine, I just couldn’t stand the thought of it. So I decided to just add some purple. With the black and silver, I felt like it was toned down enough to not look crazy. I didn’t put a finishing on it, didn’t really think about it and it’s already chipping. Maybe for her birthday I’ll repaint it. Maybe.

Sorry Britnee.

For those who know about the Series of Unfortunate Events, it shouldn’t come to much surprise my family will not be celebrating Christmas this year. I’m the youngest so we can all be adults about it. I never did like sharing a list of things I wanted knowing others felt obligated to get me something. So I’m kind of excited to share my Christmas List, guilt free:

Boxcar Base for my Kelsey Excelsior 6×10
A new roller for my Kelsey Excelsior 6×10
Letterpress: the allure of the handmade
Letterpress: New Applications for Traditional Skills
Wood type – any
The Printmaking Bible
Printing By Hand
Craft Inc.
A frame for my professor, Kathy Puzey’s 21 3/4″ x 15″ amazing relief print.
And I can’t list everything I want on Etsy. So browse through my favorites, if you will.
Oh and a pair of Ash Canvas TOMS shoes. I have high hopes they hold up better than sanuks.

Most of all, I would just love help restoring my Kelsey because I’ve never done anything like it before nor do I have a place for proper ventilation when stripping paint. Which for those who are wondering, I probably won’t get to it until it gets warmer out so I can do it in my backyard without freezing to death.

Every Friday the lawn gets mowed and as a responsible dog owner, I make sure the yard is picked up. I got a friendly reminder from the mama this morning:

Exactly 33 years ago, my parents married. They were 21 years old and in love. How did they meet? I’m glad you asked.

The Vietnam War was getting bad and my Uncle, a white guy in the army who married my mom’s oldest sister, moved the family from everything they knew to his hometown -Caste Dale, UT. Now something you should know about the mama and all of my Aunts and Uncle – they’re all deaf but the youngest sister. The only deaf school in Utah at the time was in Ogden so the kids journeyed north for school. Now, a few weeks before this my dad had no job. He received his last welfare check and knew he needed to start looking for work. One day coming home from school at Weber State University, he turned left to the deaf school to see if they were hiring. That left turn changed his life, as he likes to put it. My dad was an RA for the boys dorm and this is how he learned his fifth language, American Sign Language. Him and my mom were the same age and older than most of the others and once she got the courage to talk to him, they started dating.

One day, my dad got down on one knee and signed, “Will you marry me?” Even though she was mostly confused on why he was down on one knee, she answered, “Ask my parents first.” So my dad hired a Vietnamese translator and drove 3 hours to Castle Dale just to be shot down. My grandparents justification for declining was that they were both goats in the Chinese Zodiac which meant they’ll butt heads. But somehow when they heard my dad had a house they agreed to the marriage and moved in with them with 3 of my mom’s siblings. As newlyweds, my dad had 5 extra people in the house to take care of, none who spoke English or spoke at all. This is how much he loved her and still does today.

Happy Anniversary!

I went on a garage sale expedition with my old roommate Di and her boyfriend Matt. It was really good to see them! I don’t know why we haven’t been hanging out more since we all ended up in Ogden after our Logan days. Maybe because Matt has been in jail (see her blog for details). Although not funny, it’s very funny to me because last summer we all went swimming at the Logan Aquatic Center and I thought Di and Matt were right behind me on my scooter. I was home for maybe 45 minutes when Di showed up alone, yelling, “Matt got arrested! And he didn’t even have his shirt on!” At least he had a shirt on for this summer’s arrest.

Di bargained an old lady from $10 to $5 on the Harry Potter – Half Blood Prince book. She was quite happy her Harry Potter set is complete. But later I found the same book and told Matt to ask how much – “$2, or make me an offer.” Di was not happy with that. But they found a brand new hookah, with a case and all for $75. It was a pretty sweet deal for what it was. I spent less than $5 on a dress, 2 picture frames, a mirror, and 8 glasses. All of these things were investments to be cleaned up, painted, turned into candles, etc. and put on my etsy shop that I have long deserted. I took photos of the dress and it kills me, but I might keep it.

Dress: Garage Sale
Belt: Thrifted

(Look back at Growing up. for a picture of the new used high waisted mustard skirt)

–

Garage sales can typically have nostalgic moments when you see items that you had as a kid or know of a relative who has a similar collection. For me, it went deeper. A neighborhood of elderly people took advantage of their coul-de-sac to put on one large sale. One of these houses was my grandma’s old house. The house I went to every Wednesday while in elementary school to play uno and eat banana nut bread. The house that had a gold metal lamp you could simply touch to turn on and off . The house where the Christmas tree was aluminum and the toilet seat pink. The house that had a flag for every season, in the yard. But this house had no flag. This house wasn’t my grandma’s anymore. I miss that house. I miss my grandma.

(Sheila trying to bite at her splashes today. Her and water will have a constant battle, I think.)

I have been away from home since I was 13. This is when we moved away from this very creek that had a swing where I spent most of my adolescent days. We moved away from fresh apricots, pears, cherries, plums, raspberries, green apples and red, walnuts, and honeysuckles. We left the house which stores memories for more than half of my life. I learned to walk, to talk, and to ride a bike (and how you’re suppose to keep your mouth shut to not eat bugs). We left a time where we were all under one roof and we all knew each other – where we were, what we did, and how was our day. We saw each other grow, we saw each other laugh, we just saw each other. And we almost went back. Almost.