Cassandra Warren

Goodbye, dearest blogspot.

2012-05-03T13:45:00.000-04:00

I've had this blog here since 2007. I won't get all mushy about it, but it's time to move on, to have a blog that's better integrated with my website, etc. I do hope you'll follow me. I know it's annoying to resubscribe, to change your bookmarks. It's a little annoying for me too, and I'm not yet warmed up to the new spot. But this is a good change, I think.

http://cassandrawarren.net/blog

Overhauls.

2012-04-26T00:40:00.000-04:00

I'm currently reworking my website. Two things related to this:

1. If I move my blog over to wordpress (so it is more a part of my site, rather than an separate addition), would you follow? I'm torn, because I would prefer to integrate the two better, but I've also been here on blogspot since 2007, so I'm a little attached.

2. My site is going to have both a portfolio page, and a page with sketchbooks/art journals. I've spent my evening going through many, many old journal pages, to decide which to share and which to keep hidden in the depths of flickr (or, not scanned at all). Here are some old favorites:

Quietly.

2012-04-19T18:23:00.001-04:00

Grey Easter arboretum adventure.

2012-04-08T18:59:00.003-04:00

Arnold Arboretum, Jamaica Plain, MA. April 8th, 2012.

The sun rose and set on the wings of the robin.

2012-04-07T23:14:00.003-04:00

I have only written two poems in April. Thus far, the count for the year is 32, which means I still have a long way to go. Writing is sometimes difficult for me, it requires that I dredge up some past or some emotion and sometimes all I want to do is go through a week of being blindly human. Going to work and coming home and cooking meals and petting my cat and laughing with friends, without any pesky remembrance.

Then I'll see someone on the train that we both know, and want to ask how you are, but I can't and that makes me feel close to violently ill, and I'll come home and won't let myself write about that. Sometimes, I'll write poems that are lists of things that I'm not allowed to tell about.

Spring is nice, the blooming is important. I've been drawing robins again, because I've decided that I want one tattooed on my chest, the right side, because I've had this Leonard Cohen lyric in my head for three years now (this is also why robins often appear in my sketchbook pages, and sometimes with a few of the words):

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best
I can't keep track of each fallen robin

Honesty is a strange and delicate thing.

Message.

2012-04-01T21:34:00.000-04:00

New York & an early spring.

2012-03-22T14:27:00.004-04:00

I've been trying to write this post since Sunday. Life has been very go go go, and I feel like I haven't stopped moving in weeks. Last week alone was both amazing and difficult. Monday was the anniversary of my step dad's passing, Wednesday I was tattooed late into the night, Friday I was off to NYC, and the time in between was full of work/chores/plans/life/etc.

I keep wanting to talk about New York, but there are no words good enough. It was exactly what I needed. Seeing Sophie and Iain was the best possible thing at the best possible time. It was a lot of exploring, a lot of conversation, book-talk, girl-time, hugs, green tea ice cream, a strange party in Williamsburg, and feeling both out of my element and right at home all at the same time. I came home Sunday night, jumped right back into work Monday, and while I've had some time this afternoon to enjoy the weather and try to relax, my brain is busy and this evening I have an art date and important-secret-plan-meeting.

The above photos:
1. Getting tattooed by Molly.

2. Iain, the very edge of Sophie, and a cat we met in Chinatown.

3. Where we sat and ate ice cream shortly before walking across the Manhattan bridge.

4. What was at the time a smaller OWS protest in Union Sq. If you've been following at all, you know that earlier this week there was hundreds of people there (I think maybe there still are).

5. Yesterday, tights for the first time this spring, boots folded down. This was at north station. As an aside, someone was selling daffodils there in the morning, and I was disappointed that I couldn't buy some, as I'd have to take them to work with me.

6. I need to spend a moment on this, because this book is far more beautiful than I expected. I knew it was going to be great, because I'm pretty familiar with what Iain and Jon (the photographer) do, but the book itself was.. being pushed into a cold pool? Being punched in the gut? Like someone took a big spoon and stirred up my insides? It did something, that's for sure. I knew it was special the moment I held it in my hands, because even the cover feels unique and soft and homey, but I didn't let myself read any of it until I was back on the bus for the long ride home. I was drawn right in, but ended up having to put it down because I was overwhelmed with the amount of emotion in it, and the memories it was bringing afloat. You should consider giving it a look. Iain's also doing one last reading tonight in NY, 6pm, the band shell in Prospect Park.

7 & 8. Pineapple and I on the porch today, basking in the warmth and listening to birds.

9. Brooklyn flea market finds.

10. Last night's commute home.

I'm going to try really hard to post some art soon. All I've been managing lately is pencil sketches, flash practice, and line sheets. Bad, bad, I know.

Albatross.

2012-03-11T15:57:00.003-04:00

I have always, perhaps wrongfully so, depended on movement to mend things. Then there's this: I can't fix anything, can't escape anything, and I'm placing all of my hope in New York next weekend. Like I said to my friend Nancy earlier today, travel replenishes the soul. I'm counting on it, foolishly and wide-eyed, because, because, because.

You'd find me blooming by the riverbed.

2012-03-04T20:03:00.004-05:00

My dreams in the last week have caused me to wake up exhausted nearly every day. I dream frequently and vividly, this is nothing new, but the content recently has been strange. Last night I dreamed of tornadoes (this happens often, as I'm terrified of them). In it, they were so violent that they were somehow lighting the clouds on fire for brief moments, so the sky was swirling and erupting in red, and I was so scared but stood snapping pictures.

I've also had multiple dreams about tulips, which is the most mystifying thing. I don't hold a particular fondness for the flowers, or at least I didn't until the dreams started happening, but now I keep collecting photos that I find on tumblr and drawing them, as if drawing them will somehow help me figure out why my brain keeps having them pop up. In the dreams, they are always yellow with streaks of red. They're not being given to me, I'm not in a field, they're just there, and I don't feel anything other than "Oh, that's nice," in the same way I would if I were to see them in the waking world if I were walking down the street.

But you are my nomad and I love you sideways daily.

2012-03-01T12:12:00.007-05:00

I don't have much for new drawings to show you today, so instead I'm going to share with you some things that are currently inspiring me and making me feel feelings (I like that phrase, "feel feelings"). But first! 100 poems in 2012 update: Sometimes I think that I'm not making progress, but then I look at the number and realize it's not so bad. Especially since I've already surpassed the number of poems I wrote last year (I think, but there may have been some that I didn't post). This is what it's looking like:

Last night was when I decided that I wanted to share some things that I'm liking lately, and only now as I sit here with my milk-and-no-sugar coffee am I feeling a little overwhelmed. How do I choose?! It's unfortunate that I'm not comfortable with sharing the work of my coworkers (as I can't do so without properly crediting them, and I can't credit them without essentially telling the internet exactly where I work), because they are the humans that are inspiring me most these days. From the gorgeous back pieces my boss has been creating, to the spiritual energy of the new lady-tattooer at the shop, to the drawing tips and encouragement from everyone. I am a lucky girl. As for other things..

-Okay, so there's this site called Free Cabin Porn. It's not what it sounds like! A friend shared the link with me and I said, I AM NOT CLICKING THAT. But that was a lie, because curiosity got the best of me, and I ended up seeing a bunch of this:

-Richard Siken is my forever-favorite, and outside of his book Crush, he has all sorts of gems scattered about the internet. Such as The Long and Short of It. I love each and every line in this one.

"I work my jobs, I take my pills. Knot the tie and go to work, unknot the tie and go to sleep. I sleep. I dream. I wake. I sing. I get out the hammer and start knocking in the wooden pegs that affix the meaning to the landscape, the inner life to the body, the names to the things. I float too much to wander, like you, in the real world. I envy it but that’s the dealio—you’re a train and I’m a trainstation and when I try to guess your trajectory I end up telling my own story."

-Whales. Early spring = early whale watching? Oh, I hope so.

-More poems. Lots of them. I think I have more favorite poets than novelists. This one is like a punch to the stomach:

-A very incomplete list of tattooers:

Duke Riley

Stephanie Brown (She is on my tattoo bucket list - I'd love a panther from her.)

Kid Kros

Ron Henry Wells

-Photos like this:

[source]

Scottie Martin

[source?]

[source?]

-Art like this:

Rosemary Milner

Mireille Vautier

David Fullarton

"How to tape up your hands before a fight." (source?)

-And: Postcards, horses, chakra/mandala shapes in nature, flora, fish scales, LaBlogotheque's Take Away Shows on youtube, moths, Paul Newman & Joanne Woodward, relationships vs. static ideals, aura theories, Warsan Shire, Shearwater, Mumford and Sons (I'm late hopping on this train, I know), tough love, soft light, gardening, space.

If there's anything you think I should see, I'd love for you to share it! Comment, email, tweet, tumblr message.. I'm embarrassingly accessible on the internet AND I have the day off today, so sensory overload is welcome.

P.S., I collect internet-things that inspire me on Tumblr and Pinterest.

Blue tulip.

2012-02-26T15:19:00.002-05:00

I love Sundays.

The light in the room on, the light in the room off.

2012-02-23T13:46:00.002-05:00

Lately, I feel like my life should probably be titled Studies in the Pursuit of Happiness.

Sketchbook Project, collaborations (3!), New York, work, family, adventures, reconnections, epiphanies.. I'm trying very hard to take it all in with grace and not become overwhelmed. Fortunately, most of the previous can be categorized under Good Things. And it's so nice out today, I had my windows open.

I'm rather surprised that my 100 poems in 2012 project is going well. I was worried earlier in February, but so far I've beaten the January count by one, and there's still a few days left to the month! Of course, not all of them are good, but that's okay. It will be fun to go back and edit a bunch later. Current count for the year: 21.

Weekend.

2012-02-19T18:01:00.003-05:00

Last week's birthday? One of the best of my life. The week took a lot out of me overall, a lot of things happened, the biggest of which I can't talk about here. The things that I can mention include a 24 hour stomach bug, my first Celtics game, an old friend, lots of familiar faces, love, hugs, and not very much sleep.

Now I'm having a very quiet Sunday evening, practicing drawing things that I am not very good at.

Oh yeah, and this is happening too!

Hello, new decade.

2012-02-16T14:00:00.000-05:00

Good news everyone! 30 doesn't feel much different than 29! A lot of warmth is coming my way today, and I've been writing this post since earlier in the week. I don't give much of a crap about birthdays, but 30 is a big deal to me, because for the majority of my life I was absolutely convinced that I wouldn't make it this far (let's just say that for a very long time, I hated myself very, very much). I wanted to share some thoughts with you, things that I've figured out along the way, things that I wish I had known years ago. Maybe in another 30 years I'll want to edit all of this, or just add a lot more on to it. I hope that something in the next paragraphs helps someone, but I am also posting this as a reminder to myself.

I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just jump right in.

I'm convinced that developing a relationship with forgiveness is one of the keys to happiness. Forgiving doesn't have to mean forgetting, but if you can forgive the people and things that have happened to you, you'll feel a lot lighter for it. And if you can't? That's okay too. But try to let it go. Say, I can not forgive this/you, and then keep going. Leave the forgiveness part to the universe. It's okay, you're human.

In fact, if you find that you're being too hard on yourself, remember that too. It's okay, you are human.

The cliche, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is true, although almost always frustrating to hear when you're standing in the middle of shit and feeling like the life has been sucked out of you. Try to eliminate thoughts like This isn't fair, or I don't deserve this. Because it's not about that. It's about doing the best you can with what you are given.

When you find the thing that makes you happy (and I don't mean a person, here), fight to keep it -- even if it's a city away from your friends, a job that your parents don't approve of, or a hobby that you are almost too busy for.

And as for the person that makes you happy? Remember that relationships and friendships are a constant learning and growing experience, that will sometimes be difficult (see also: forgiveness). Don't forget to tend and cultivate them with care, and if the day comes where you need to fight for a person, then do it, but if they still insist on walking away, then the best thing that you can do for yourself is to let them go and be at peace knowing that you did everything that you could.

Taking a person for granted can be one of the most sad, devastating, and damaging mistakes, and you will do this to someone, and it will be done to you. Again: forgiveness.

You are responsible for your own happiness, and should never rely on another person to provide happiness for you. Create a life that you are in love with, be in love with yourself, and fill it with those worth sharing it all with, who magnify all of the goodness that you already have.

You make your own family. Go with your gut. Stand up for yourself and what you believe in. Be kind, especially when it's hard. Don't tolerate anyone who makes you feel small. Don't ever let anyone make you believe that you're not magnificent.

And LIVE. Kiss that stranger, take on that project, make goals, make mistakes, appreciate as much as you can, say you're sorry, be honest, be patient. Things will be okay, things will work out. Even if it takes a little while, even if it's the last thing that you're capable of believing in at the time.

If you read all of that, you are a champion. And because it is my birthday, and because I love and appreciate you, here is a high-res scan of "Rescue" for you to download and print. Share all you'd like (but please don't use the image for profit, okay?). Just click and save.♥

Distance and time.

2012-02-12T14:38:00.003-05:00

All drawing and writing is coming and going in waves these last days. Here is a little bit of the first pages in my limited edition Sketchbook Project. The theme is distance and time, hence the post title, but I approach themes VERY loosely no matter what they are. Which may or may not be cheating.

Next week I turn the big three-zero, which is something I've been a little terrified about since I turned 29. Many, many people say that your thirties are the best decade of your life, and I hope they're right. I have some fun plans in the works for the day, including good people, a Celtics game (technically the night before my birthday, but it will be my first!), a bit of reflection, pretty dresses, downtown Boston, and hopefully some mild shenanigans and delicious beer.

Related to the latter: I'm enjoying trying new kinds of brews in the last couple of months. Not as impressively as Courtney's Febrewary experiment, but it's making me extend beyond my stout-comfort zone in a most delicious way.

Untitled.

2012-02-09T13:57:00.000-05:00

Encyclopedia of: Birds, Failures, Should Haves, Could Haves

2012-02-02T18:23:00.004-05:00

So Tuesday has come and gone, and I'm happy to say that my Sketchbook Project was dropped into a mailbox to begin it's journey to the Brooklyn Art Library, deadline met.

Thoughts on the project: I am proud to have finished this year. I would do it again (and will be, as the Limited Edition sketchbook is due in April). I don't love all of the pages, and that's okay. Some of them break my heart, and that's okay too.

The process was less-than-strange. I treated it as I would any of my other sketchbooks, not thinking much about how other people would be seeing it as each page was finished. I did take care to choose mediums that would last as the book is passed through multiple hands, but as far as content, I ended up immersing myself in it as though it would be without an audience.

Which is why posting the scanned pages on the internet has been a little scary. I'm no stranger to putting my sketchbooks online, but it's always been different. More filtered. If a page is too personal, I don't scan it. It's that simple. But this one? It feels exposing in a whole new way. One that I haven't yet felt with showing other sketchbooks, or even wholly at gallery shows. I have even written and rewritten this post a few times, unsure of how much I should or should not be sharing. There is an odd twinge of guilt in creating something out of memories that do not solely belong to you, and the guilt increases tenfold when you show that creation off.

So, finding myself out of things to say, here are some of my aesthetically favorite pages from the book. You can see them all here, or on my Art House page.

Limb from limb.

2012-01-29T20:49:00.003-05:00

This is the last day off I have before my Sketchbook Project needs to be mailed in, which means this is the last chance I have to work on it. Here is a peek at some of the pages that haven't been scanned yet.

The process has taken many different phases. Now, towards the end, it is frustrating and painful. I'm doing my best to extract every last bit of emotion in order to finish it with something substantial, but the entire thing has been created at such emotional peaks that at this point I am just worn out.

The cutoff.

2012-01-22T19:21:00.004-05:00

It was bound to happen. I was running on such heavy emotion for about two solid months, drawing and writing every day, pouring as much of it out as I could.

I hit a wall.

It's all right. Except for the part where my Sketchbook Project needs to be postmarked by the 31st and I haven't gotten far past the mid-point (somehow, I'm not feeling discouraged). I've done a lot this month, dragging myself through the mud, while maintaining my life and projects. I'm not going to beat myself up for feeling utterly drained the last few days. I'm actually doing a good job of not beating myself up at all lately. Turns out it's fairly simple, and the trick is to keep telling yourself, I am a human being and I am doing the best that I can.

From the top left:
1. Pineapple on top of my sketchbook while I'm trying to draw.
2. View from the train on my commute to work.
3. The first real snowfall of the year, as I was walking home.
4. Christmas eve tattoo. I don't think I've posted this here yet. One more session to go, for the color.

Stems and bones and stone walls too.

2012-01-06T00:22:00.004-05:00

The last two pictures are the center pages in my 2012 Sketchbook Project. The postmark deadline is January 31st, and I'm excited because it looks like I'm going to complete it in time (as I've mentioned, I failed at the 2011 project). I've put the Limited Edition on hold for now, but will be diving in as soon as the 2012 is finished.

I won't be explaining the pages, or the sadness that stretches across many of them. It is what it is. My sketchbooks have always been something of a journal. This one is tricky though, since it will be going on a nationwide tour and it's being posted online as I complete pages. I am having to learn how to balance honesty while maintaining a certain degree of privacy and anonymity (mostly for the sake of others).

The pages after the first three shown above are less.. lost-sounding. It's hard to post them and not apologize for them.

January 1st.

2012-01-05T00:26:00.003-05:00

Out of sequence.

Memory.

2012-01-02T23:45:00.008-05:00

Sometimes I miss New Hampshire. It always sneaks up on me. I will be away from the city and the trees will smell familiar. I will be walking someplace and hear the call of a mourning dove. Or sometimes, like tonight, I will read the words New Hampshire and be flooded with a warm feeling that is something like nostalgia, something like homesickness, but neither.

The New Hampshire that makes me the pleasant sort of sick to my stomach, is not one that I've shared with many people. I have experienced it with my sister in our youth, when playing in the woods, then later as teenagers, driving home late at night and jumping into Lake Winnepesaukee on hot days with our clothes on because we weren't wearing bathing suits and there were people everywhere. I shared this New Hampshire with my neighbors, who knew it well. Then as an adult, with a friend as we wandered through corn fields, and later, with a boyfriend who waited with me patiently for sunset on Halls Hill, because I told him the sky there was unlike any other place (and I meant it, and it was worth it).

This all started a few days ago, when I was eating a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie, and it made me miss my grandparents, and peach trees, and picking blackberries, and smelling lilacs through my bedroom window.

My relationship with the state is complicated. But I wouldn't have the same fondness for nature had I not lived there. I remember the first time I ever saw a deer, a barn owl, a pack of coyotes, a hummingbird moth. It's why I love and can identify small birds. There was a whole lot of beautiful things in there, and when I get all wistful and daydream about hiding away in a cabin for a week in the north, this is exactly why.

The above photos: by me, years ago, and all I really have, despite the time I had there. They are simple, but I cherish them.

A not-so year in review.

2011-12-30T12:14:00.006-05:00

I understand why people do the year in review thing. It's a good way to metaphorically close one chapter, and prepare yourself a clean slate to begin outlining the next. But I can't do that this year. It's not as if nothing good happened to me. My summer was amazing. My new job, new apartment, moving to Somerville -- these things are huge, and I am eternally grateful for them.

But. 2011 was a struggle. Things began to fracture, and ultimately fell apart. Someone that I cared about very much died unexpectedly in February, which was the first time as an adult (fortunately) that I had to deal with death on a personal level. The usual ups and downs that come with each year are relatively unimportant. Then there is the last six weeks, which have been what I will not-so-fondly describe as total hell, on a daily basis. And that much emotional turmoil is exhausting.

So I am sorry that I can't look at the closing of the year with joy. I am looking forward to what's to come, don't get me wrong. But I can not wait to leave all of this behind me.

I'll end this post with a little bit of positivity:

Brian Andreas

The unfortunate truth.

2011-12-26T20:15:00.000-05:00

This drawing isn't very good. But that's fine with me.

What comes after the blues.

2011-12-21T18:33:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I forget. Never for very long. But still, sometimes.

Happy holidays, friends. There are plenty of warm thoughts to be given. Mine are going to you.♥