La La Land

I'm sorry if you have to find out via the internet.

But word gets around fast.  So I'm going to say it first (if it's not too late already).

I'm moving to LA.

ETA: Late October 2010

 

I know, right?!?!

Many of you may know me as being rather anti-LA, anti-Hollywood, anti-smog, anti-Lakers, anti-traffic, anti-expensive living, etc.

and it is true that when I think of LA I can't help but picture this:

and this:

(photo by David LaChapelle)

and this:

and this:

(taken from perezhilton.com)

Ugh.  Bad public transit and lots of plastic.

But I had to remind myself, that there are good and bad things in every city/town.

I also happen to be pro-food, pro-mountains, pro-friends, pro-beach, pro-krumping, pro-diversity, pro-cars-with-hydraulics...

So...when I think of LA I also think of this:

(Photo: "Hydraulics" by Cindy Bennett, mutated by me)

and this:

and this:

 and this:

and this:

 (if you don't know what krumping is...you can learn about it)

Yay!

------

I'm really bad at making decisions.  I'm so analytical and I'm desperately afraid of making the WRONG choice.  I had told myself that by the time I finished hiking along the PCT this year I had to come to a decision, some kind of game plan for the next phase of my life.  But apparently talking to myself for 5 months didn't work.

I realized, no amount of time in the world was going to help me make a decision, and I couldn't rely on someone else to make it for me.  The world was my oyster except for the fact that I was (and still am) virtually penniless.

When I got off the train in Seattle, the day before flying home to Dallas, I started crying at the first street corner I walked to.  I was a little overwhelmed with the idea of being back in civilization, but I also did not no where to start again, where to go.  I had friends and family to go home to in Dallas, yet my heart was not even in the mood to look for temporarily work and I was ready to spread my wings!!!...but I hadn't even decided where to fly to. 

In film school one of our professors said to us (paraphrasing), "If you're serious about making movies, move to LA."  That became my #1 reason to hate LA, even more than the traffic monstrosity.  I wanted to prove him wrong.  I didn't believe that so much of this country's film making should be concentrated in one location.  And I really believed in and wanted to fight for all the people around the world breaking their backs for small independent films.  People should be free to live where they want.

Note: I still do not think LA is the end all for movie making...while there is a great amount of talent and creativity in LA, good films can be made anywhere, and I hope to keep working on films made all around the country and throughout the world...and not always with all LA or NYC based people.

Over the next three years I had some of the most amazing film experiences that would not have happened if I had moved out to LA right away.  But after three years I found my self even more broke than when I finished grad-school.

So I went home and I cried, and I begged God for a sign every time I went running, and I made pros and cons lists, and I called friends, and I sat in my room and sulked, and got on every potential city's craigslist, and I googled LA vs. NY, and I ate the last of my good chocolate...but I knew it was time to make a decision.  And then a series of small events happened...and while I don't think there is one right answer (I turned away some things that were hard to turn away), I finally felt at peace, and I knew LA was NOT the WRONG answer...but the place I should go, for now.

 For a long time I had convinced myself that I would be selling out if I moved to LA...but that's just silly, I could sell out in any city, and I think I know how to preserve my soul and sanity in LA.

I really fell in love with the West Coast this summer, so I am excited to make it my home, and I am excited to come home to LA where many friends that I miss dearly already reside (and they still have souls that aren't yet withered away).

But life serves dishes of bittersweet soup quite often, and I will miss Texas, my friends here, and my family...

xoxo

No turning back please!

If you don't like reading, you can skip the words and just look at the pictures, I won't judge...

There have been two (very figuratively obvious) times in my life where I really didn't have a chance to turn back.

1) When I went skydiving for the first time and I got out on the airplane wing...that was it, I had to jump.

And I did.

Granted I felt like I was having a heart attack for the first 3 seconds...but then I relaxed and enjoyed it the whole rest of the way down.  It was amazing, it was as close to humanly flying as possible.  It was freeing and beautiful, I had to check all my fears at the airplane door and let it all go as I fell.

2) Last night as Adam at Hold Fast Tattoos began to create a permanent drawing on my skin.  Once he started...that was it, I didn't want a half drawn doodle on my arm did I?

Many years in the making...I've wanted a tattoo for a long time, but for my first one I told myself I must decide and wait for a year to make sure I wanted it.

At the beginning of 2009 I had decided that this was the year I was going to get my first tattoo.  It wasn't until about March of last year that I found the perfect template for exactly what I wanted.

Funny, since skydiving I haven't been able to stop watching birds in the sky, as they flit and float in the vast blue abyss.  They look so happy, swirling around in the sky playing games unachievable to me.  I also have something in common with birds, a migratory nature.  Everyone seems to be love staying in one place, applauding stability, and relishing home ownership.  I don't know if I'll ever jump on that boat.  Seeing new places and working in different environments inspires me.  I like to flit and float from place to place...and then I migrate back home to share rounds of hugs and drinks with dear friends and family.  I like freedom, I like the feel of the wind rushing through my hair and up through my nostrils not to mention I have constant reoccurring dreams in which I can gracefully float through the air.

I decided I wanted the flight pattern of a bird.  One day I came across this image.

I tried to find the original link to give credit, but I couldn't find it again!  There was no artist listed on the website I found it on.

That was it!  It combined everything I wanted with a feminine twist.

Life became busy and I was honestly a little scared to go through with it.  2009 came and went, and finally upon realizing that I was soon going to have to take flight and leave for my next adventure I decided it was time.  It was a marker for many things that have come to an end recently and many things that are about to begin.

I went in for a consultation at Hold Fast Tattoos in Dallas, TX and I spoke with Adam, who had tattooed both my friend Jordan:

and my friend Emory:

We decided to use just a few of the birds (so that you could see good detail and not have cramped little blobs.  He was going to add in a bit of similar wildflower flora in it.  I wanted to have it on the inside of my arm, so when I held my arms out you could see the design fully.

I went back home, told my family (eeeek!), and then I waited for three tense days until my appointment.

I was ready but my stomach was in knots.

There was a bit much flora added to the design, so I had Adam cut some out.  He also said that he was planning on doing the flowers in more of a gray, so that the birds would stand out...perfect, because as you may have seen above, the flora in the inspiration picture didn't even have an outline, just shades of gray.

So he put the stencil on my arm.

Me trying to act tough...my knees were about to give.

Adam had me lay down, he prepared for a few more minutes (it just made the intensity build up all the more).  

Finally he said, "Julie are you ready."  

I was bracing for it.  "Yes."

He placed his hands on my arm where the design began, "You ready?"

"Yes."  He probably asked twice, because I had just asked a bunch of dumb questions that surely had revealed my insecurities.

I wasn't really ready, but I was as ready as I'd ever be.  And he plunged the needle of the tattoo gun into my skin.

In some ways the pain didn't hurt as expected, I could bare it...but barely...it was just short of torture, in some spots more than others.

There were teeth clenching moments.

But there came a moment when I realized I couldn't talk to people (or take any more pictures) to let distraction help out my pain tolerance level.  I actually ended up focusing almost my entire concentration on exactly what was going on so I wouldn't shake or flinch.

He finally got through the whole thing and went onto shading.

The fine point had felt like something was ripping through me and stinging, the shader felt like a horrible burning sensation, I couldn't tell if it was worse or if my arm was just feeling so raw.  Still, all of it was just at bare-able.  Though I was thankful it didn't last any longer then it did, I had to pee, it hurt, and I was starting to freak out!  What had I just done!

Finally it was over, I looked at it in the mirror, but I was so worn out from concentrating so hard that I couldn't even take it all in.  He wrapped me up in plastic and I managed to take this pathetic picture.

I paid, thanked Adam, went home, and FREAKED OUT!

I could barely even concentrate on Project Runway (whaaaat?)...all I wanted to do was go back in time and erase the tattoo.  It was not what I had expected...tooooo many freehanded flowers:

And it was more traditional/old school style (which Adam specializes in) than I wanted...I should have maybe gone to someone else who had a more watercolor style and gotten it done without so much outlining.

I felt sick.

What if I was going to end up on the Horrible Tattoos Blog?!?!?

So I texted my friend Danea a few pictures and then went into a texting frenzy/freak-out with her.  Now my freak outs aren't loud or full of tears, they are silent, but almost deadly because my mind starts racing at top speed.  Here's a portion of our convo:

Danea: Yes, you are just freaking out.  Do you have photos on Facebook yet?

Me: (text two photos) No...I haven't uploaded any...I don't want to.

Danea: This is me chanting to you at a Pep Rally... "Do it! Do it! Photos need to be online! Do it! Everybody wants to see the design! Yay!"

Me: I'll email them to you if you need to see bigger [pictures] right away.  But I need to wait until I like [the tattoo] before I post it on the internet.

She helped calm me down.  Didn't Adam say that once it was healed the flowers would fade a little?   Yes it wasn't just like the drawing, but it was different in a good way.  It was feminine.  I needed to give it time.  I was going to live with it either way, so might as well like it. After saying goodnight I finally drifted off to sleep with my arm above my head.

Morning.

I felt better.  As I looked at the tattoo I realized that yes, it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but Adam is very good at what he does, and there is a classic charm to all the old school tattoos.  I mean, whenever I see them on someone else, I fancy them.

When I first went blonde I wasn't sure that I even liked it...but then I ended up LOVING it and going more blonder!  And that's what has begun to happen today.  I had my 3 second skydiving heart attack, now I'm enjoying the flight down.  By the time I get to the ground, I'll love it.  So here's some pictures:

Yay!  Happy me!  I'm still the same old me, just with a permanent installation art piece.  I'm glad I got it done when I did...I think I would have freaked out my first time, no matter what.  Now I just have to take care of it and let it heal properly.

Thanks Adam, for a beautiful tattoo!

Thanks Jenny, for going with me to the parlor!

Thanks Danea, for talking me through my first night!

Handmade: Volume One

When I was very young I joined a homeschool sewing circle with my mum.  It was here that I made my very first apron with a cornflower blue fabric and frilly white eyelet lace.  It was here that I also learned to crochet, one of my favorite pastimes to this day.  I had so much fun, but times got busy and the sewing circle ended.  I made the occasional handmade goody here and there, but it wasn't really until I started taking photography classes that I began working with my hands again, in the darkroom.

Times changed and digital photography took over most of my celluloid film and darkroom time, for monetary and time reasons...and there's the fact that I don't have my own darkroom.  In film school I was happiest when taking marks and pulling focus by hand, clipping gels to some barn doors, clicking away on my light meter, or when hammering in rivets to a spaceship set.  I love making things, creating things with my hands.

If you've looked at this blog before you may have noticed that I also REALLY LOVE necklaces.  Besides a good pair of glasses, they are the perfect accessory for any occasion!  So naturally one thing lead to another.  When I realized my sister Shelly really wanted a necklace with a skeleton key, I decided to make her one for Christmas...but I couldn't stop with just one necklace.  I started taking apart thrift store necklaces, cutting up and sanding branches, hand staining wood appliques, etc.

So here are a few of the necklaces I have recently made, I am starting the next batch, having aquired more supplies and having received some good feedback on my phase one prototypes, so that I can make the next round better, more wearable, and sturdier!

My very first wood applique necklace.

The second wood applique necklace...for my sister Jenny.

Third wood applique necklace with vintage wooden beads and a parrot...made for Safia!

Hardware pieces plus beads!

Hardware, beads, and a real skeleton key.

Vintage wooden bead, regular beads, and some Virgin Mary metal pieces.

An assortment of beads and chain and a pendent piece.

Metal and wood, made from wood found on a walk through a park!

More to come soon...