Foggy Ridge Dispatch: October 21, 2024
Birthdays, bulk foods, first frosts, and imperfect vessels.
Here are the things of note from last week (October 14 - 20).
Last Monday (October 14) was my 37th birthday. As I do every year, I took a birthday portrait.
Here’s the caption I gave the portrait on Instagram:
𝙔𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝟯𝟳𝙩𝙝 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮.
Every year on my birthday, I make a self-portrait. IMHO, this one has the aura of 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘁 (𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦), which feels fitting. This year 𝙝𝙖𝙨 been about 𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗰 and finding ways to bring my fave 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 (𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦) back to the forefront where they belong. Here’s how I’ve been doing that:
𝗜𝗻 𝗝𝗮𝗻𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘆, 𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀. I wanted to work less, earn more, and never fear being laid off again. Most of all, I wanted to be able to pay the bills while reclaiming 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 for the things that 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 matter.
𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻. I know I don’t post much of it, but it’s happening. TBH, I’ve been 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆; it gives me that feeling of making from my youth, when I DGAF what anyone thought. I need to find a way to protect that feeling as I shift back to a more public way of making.
𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 á 𝗹𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲 (𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨) 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹. Will I ever go back to teaching permanently? Only time will tell. Y’all know 𝗜 𝗱𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴…but I can’t compromise on being paid a living wage.
𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗦𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗸 for a project I first ideated two years ago: 𝙏𝙤 𝘽𝙚 𝙖 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧. It’s a multimedia publication about utopian longing through the lens of Vermont culture. There are interviews. There are essays. There’s an advice column. There’s photography + audio. There are prints. 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧.
𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻. So far, I’ve solarized a 50x60 plot and planted 13 blueberry bushes. Come spring, there will be chickens, direct-sow food crops, and green manures.
Here’s to another meaningful trip around the sun, and to joy (climate + political anxieties be damned).
I also made a trip to the food co•op in Littleton, NH (our closest one, until the Caledonia Food Co•op opens next year). It’s the time of year when I stock up on bulk pantry goods so I don’t have to brave the snow & ice to get groceries as often as I would otherwise. This year, I may or may not have gone a little overboard with my stock-up, for two reasons:
ADHD Pantry Blindness. Basically, since my pantry is pretty deep, and we also keep food stashed in other cupboards, sometimes I can’t see how much of what I have…and if I can’t see it, it’d might as well not exist.
The tensions, tumult, and potential for violence surrounding the presidential election…plus potential scarcity related to wars abroad…plus the potential of a COVID resurgence. You can take the girl out of the doomsday-prepping culture, but you can’t take that culture out of the girl. Better safe than sorry, and all that delicious food eventually gets eaten anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
While I was at the co•op, I saw this amazing sign in the bulk section and let me tell you - I have scarcely felt more seen.
My husband can affirm: I don’t have any hoarding habits…as long as jars and art supplies don’t count.
On Friday, we had our first visible frost that hung on until the sun was up and even a bit after. Brrrr! (But also, bring it on.)
Part of me always mourns the summer and early fall when I feel that first nip of frost…but part of me is also gleefully looking forward to snow and all of the fun that comes with it.
Last but not least: I started a new copper etching - my first one in a rather long time. It’s 8” x 10”, and I’ll most likely print an edition of 9 + an artist’s proof.
This image isn’t the finished etching; it’s a photograph of the copper plate that I converted into a black-and-white image and then inverted so the lines of the drawing are black, the way they will be when those etched lines are filled with ink and then printed on my etching press. This is just a first pass at the basic linework; there will be delicious tonality added with aquatint, and some hand-coloring with watercolor paint after the oil-based etching has had time to dry a bit.
This piece will be called Imperfect Vessel No. 1. As the name implies, it’s the first of an intended series - a series related to this newsletter. After all, each of us is an imperfect vessel that holds (and sometimes spills) volumes, no?
Alright, friends. That’s all for this first edition of Foggy Ridge Dispatch. Thank you for reading.
Warmly,
Jack