Gogovivi

A Map for Living

Starting now, I am going to blog more about my creative projects. I can't promise its going to happen very often in the near future, because we are...

moving back to Portland next month!!!

and it may take me a while to get settled back into projects and blogging. But I am so very excited to be moving into my dream cottage and finally getting the chance to make it my own.

In the meantime, I have just finished what may be the best project I have ever done. I made a floor map.

I have long dreamed of having an entire wall of my house taken up by an enormous world map. But my dream cottage doesn't have a wall big enough for this project, because all the walls are punctuated with windows. But when I saw this map for sale on Taobao (the same as this map) I knew I had found the perfect map project: a map floor cloth.

The version of the map I bought is printed on canvas and is roughly 7.5x5 feet, a map big enough to sit on, to study on, to reminisce on, and to dream on. The finished floor cloth is 9x6 feet.

So here's how I did it:

I bought a 2x3 meter sheet of heavy artist's canvas from the art supply shop. One side of the canvas is natural fiber, and the other side is prepped with white primer. With the primed side up, I roughly centered the map on the canvas.

I used acrylic painting medium as an adhesive, a rubber printer's brayer (I could have also used a rolling pin), and a rubber spatula to affix the map to the canvas. I very generously applied the painting medium to the artists canvas, then used a lot of pressure on the brayer to bond the two sheets of canvas together and to eliminate air bubbles. I started from the center of the map and worked my way out to each end.

I used such a heavy coat of acrylic medium that lots of medium was pushed out under the edges of the map. I used the rubber spatula to scrape up the excess. I am not sure if acrylic medius is the best adhesive for this project, but I my access to supplies is quite limited in China. I thought it would work and it is easy for me to get, so I went with it.

After applying the adhesive, I let the map dry for a few days. In the meantime, I decided what colors I wanted for the border and mixed the acrylic paints. I think acrylic was the right choice, but again, I went with what was most readily available. After the map was dry, in what was definitely the most difficult step of the project, I stitched the entire edge of the map to the canvas with my industrial long-arm sewing machine, but I don't think this was really needed and am not sure I would do it again.

I painted the edge of the map itself with a medium green tone, covering the stitching, then finished the surrounding artist canvas with a mustard tone that compliments the tones of the map.

After the paint was dry, I marked out a 9" border on all sides of the map with a pencil and ruler. I trimmed all edges to about 2" beyond the border, to give room for a hem, and folded the canvas under along the hem line. As I folded, I rolled the edge with the brayer to form a crease (I could also have used a bone folder but didn't have one), and secured the fold with tiny binder clips.

When all edges were folded and clipped, working section by section I removed the clips and applied a heavy coat of acrylic medium, rolled again with the brayer, and replaced the clips to dry.

I let the hem dry for two days, then applied three thin coats of clear polyurethane finish to the entire cloth and let it dry for three days. Polyurethane is very expensive here, so I only used one quart. I think when I return to the U.S. I will apply another quart to make sure the map is safely sealed from damage.

This was not an inexpensive project, but since it turned out, I think it was totally worth it (but I was concerned that I might be making a very expensive mistake). The map itself cost about $110 US dollars, the artist canvas another $57, the polyurethane varnish $25, and the acrylic medium, paints, and brush were another $15 = $207 total.

Finally, the finished floor cloth. I am absolutely delighted with how it turned out. When we get back to Portland I plan to put it in the kitchen, close to, but not under, the table, so that we can remember where we have been, where our friends are, and where our friends are from.

 

 

Looking for Light

85mm | f/3.5 | ISO 400 | 1/1000 sec

From my kitchen: 很快 hěn kuài

 

I hear him outside the gates when he comes to offer his services: He yells in a practiced, resonant, piercing voice, "剪刀 Jiǎndāo 刀 Dāo 磨快 Mó kuài." Scissors. Knife. Make sharp.

I open my kitchen window and lean out and he trolls for business on his bicycle. "我有 Wǒ yǒu," I say, as he slows, turns, and recognizes me. He parks his bike in the shade of the flowering cherry tree as I bring him my kitchen knives.

"今天没有剪刀 Jīntiān méiyǒu jiǎndāo?" he asks. No scissors today?

"有 yǒu," I reply as I return to the house to get my scissors, leaving my knives in his hands.

Knife sharpening is a family business. Three years ago when I moved to JinHai GuangChang I met his father, an leathered man of indeterminate age, his fingernails mangled from years of minor sharpening accidents, his hands scarred. The father smiled deeply, like an inhalation, and I noted that the scars seemed to be relics of inexperience. There are no fresh scars, scars were from his youth.

Now the son has taken over the business and I inquire about his father's health. "不错 Bùcuò," he replies, beaming over this polite chatter from the foreigner. "他很累 Tā hěn lèi." He is very tired.

I linger outside, enjoying the warm spring day and the scent of the blossoms. He wonders why I am taking his photograph, but he does not protest. He doesn't know that these are our last days in China, that perhaps this is the last time he will sharpen my blades. He cranks the sharpening wheel with one hand while holding the blade steady with the other. He whets the blade to a fine edge on a stone, lubricating it with spit from time to time. He tests the blades, then returns them to me for inspection.

"很快 Hěn kuài," he says, and I agree. The blades are very sharp.

Finished, he re-packs his kit onto his bike. Bench, grinding wheel, and stones all back in their place on the back of his bicycle. As he rides away, he begins his chant again.

"剪刀 Jiǎndāo 刀 Dāo 磨快 Mó kuài." Scissors. Knife. Make sharp.

***On this eve of making final plans for our family for this summer, I have realized that despite the challenges, I do love many things about living in China. Much of what I love is what lies immediately outside my windows. "From my kitchen" is a tribute to the special parts of my life that lie immediately outside my home.**

 

Mixed Messages: I love/hate China

I was joking a few days ago that one of my favorite things about living in China is that I can throw my trash out of the window. I love the convenience, sure, but what I really love is the sheer red-neck-ness of it. Finished a case of beer? Open the window and toss that box out! Filled a bag of garbage? Out it goes!

The only problem is, I'm not the only one who does it. Once I almost got hit by a giant watermelon rind someone chucked out from the 4th floor, and just the other day, my friend Kylie found a giant gold fish on the sidewalk, still twitching, that had somehow descended from a window above.

 

The trashy beautiful view from my kitchen

Amusing anectodes aside, the real problem is that nobody takes much care with trash, so trash is everywhere (though the groundskeepers do clean up several times a day, the sheer density of people here means that waste is constantly accumulating). I did not anticipate that one of the biggest irritations we would learn to live with, being new dog owners in China, is the abundance of trash on the ground. Pepper is in heaven snuffling about, finding disgusting/revolting/unsanitary/toxic/biological waste to eat.

And to be perfectly clear: when I toss trash, I am still tidy and mindful of my neighbors and neighborhood. I did not make the mess shown above!

 

We are thinking about leaving China this summer. Its high time I start taking note of the things I love about this quirky/infuriating place that I live and that Vivi calls home. This is the first installment.

 

Miles under my skin

The only thing that should surprise anyone about my tattoo (in my family, at least) is that I waited so long to get one.

Seven years ago, when I had just started to emerge from the fog of grief I had inhabited since my son Miles died, I wanted to commemorate his short life on my skin. I felt like a woman marked by loss; the symbolism of actually being marked felt deeply meaningful in some superficial, outward way.

I floated the idea to Bruce. His response? And I quote:

"Over my dead body."

I wasn't looking for his permission, exactly, only his support. His utter lack of support was so convincing, though, that I abandoned the plan and didn't bring it up again for another five years. I tabled the idea, but I didn't forget, and a year ago, I floated the idea a second time. This time, he said:

"That's a great idea. Go ahead!"

I spent the next six months looking for the right tattoo place. I looked all over Europe but didn't like any of the places that took customers on short notice. I didn't really want to be tattooed with a crowd of bikers and other tough guys looking on. I finally found the right tattoo parlor and tattoo artist in Portland (duh!) and I couldn't be happier. I loved Icon Tattoo for its cozy atmosphere, its warmth, and its lack of pretension.

My tattoo is beautiful and simple, it is beautifully simple. It features Miles' name in a lovely trailing script, accented by a dandelion puff that is losing seeds to the wind. It is in a perfect spot, where I can see it whenever I like, but it is unobtrusive and hard to see unless you know it is there.

So sorry Mom, sorry Dad, hope you're not too disappointed, but I finally got that tattoo you have been dreading. I think it turned out pretty well.

May Day Ring-n-Run

I remember May Day when I was a kid, we would steal flowers from wherever they might be blooming, put them in little baskets or paper cones, then drop them on neighbor's front steps, ring the doorbell, and run. Kind of a sweet tradition if you're the one getting the flowers, kind of like garden vandalism if your flowers are being stolen.

The great thing about doing the May Day Ring-n-Run where we live is that there are no private gardens, so nobody's flowers are being stolen ("everybody's" flowers are!). The other great thing is that our apartment complex, despite its run-down look the rest of the year, is in May resplendent with flowering trees.Vivi, our friend Lola, and I picked an over-abundance of blossoms for our flower cones.

The not-so-great thing about doing the Ring-n-Run here is that the doors to most apartments do not have exterior door knobs (nothing to hang the cones on!) and that most apartments are in security buildings, so unless you get lucky and dash into the building as someone else is coming out, you risk revealing yourself just trying to get to the door.

One of the things I love best about my Qingdao community is how we are all from different parts of the world and we all have different cultural backgrounds to share. The Ring-n-Run was new to nearly everyone we left flowers for; Brits, Aussies, Romanians, Germans, Chinese...the only ones who knew what we were up to were the few Americans in the neighborhood.

Happy May Day, everyone!

 

 

 

 

Trouble, by Any Other Name

He's officially known as Pepper.

Unofficially, he has several aliases:

• Hújiāo 胡椒
• Pepster
• Pepperito
• Peps
• Pepperito Bandito
• Peppy
• Pepe Le Pep
• Sergeant Pepper
• Mr. Fuzzy Pants
• Super Fuzz

All names translate directly to his other Chinese moniker, Máfan 麻烦. Máfan means trouble. As in counter-surfing, floor-peeing, leg-nipping, garbage eating trouble. So far, he is living up to all his aliases.

 

 

Spring Break, Day 4

Today: Vivi and Vivian

Vivi: Age 6

Vivian: Age 28.

Vivi and I have a new friend, named Vivian. She is my fitness teacher and let me tell you, she is one tough chick. She has taught me the almost unthinkable: how not to punch like a girl. Every time I see her, she totally makes my day because she is fun and outgoing and funny. I just adore her.

Today Vivian made another friend when she came over early in the morning to give little Vivi some private dance lessons. She starts a kids dance class this Sunday, and knowing that my kid is a perfectionist, she offered to give her a head start learning the moves.

 

Spring Break, Day 2

Today: Secret Clubhouse

Thank heavens that Nature decided to go easy on us. Just last week we were freezing and still wearing winter coats, but the sun has come and out Qingdao is getting warmer and green. It's the wind that keeps things frigid around here, but for some unknown reason our back garden is in a place where the wind rarely blows.

A perfect spot for a secret clubhouse.

With a elbow greast from me, and a lot of creative input on her part, Vivian directed the construction of her backyard clubhouse. The neighborhood kids soon descended, the play became all-consuming, and I have not seen her since.

 

Spring Break, Day 3

Today: Ballet.

Like mother, like daughter: my poor child is a perfectionist. Vivian does not like to do what she cannot do well. Which is why I am delighted that she likes ballet. She has been in an after-school ballet class once a week in which, as far as I can tell, the main exercise has been to look cute and run around the room in circles.

This week we enrolled her in a "proper" class (though I am a poor judge of what is or is not a "proper" class). She is with 15 other children and spends time at the barre practicing positions and doing exercises, and the teacher carries a long bamboo rod around with which she beats the children if they slouch.

Just kidding. Corporal punishment is not part of the curriculum. The teacher is tough, though. On the first night, four girls got a lecture for misbehaving. To make matters worse, they didn't get a sticker after class, which for a 6-year old is the biggest possible incentive.

The teacher is also pretty, which means that Vivi loves her. She is tough and pretty and that's a pretty high recommendation.

As long as Vivian learns a little discipline, learns that practice and working hard are the only way to perfection, and perhaps develops better posture than I ever had, the lessons will pay off.