Hello everyone! It has been some time since my previous post. The days had been quite silent recently despite the variety of things that needed to be done. I used to be so focused on being busy, on ticking off one item from my long check list after another, and even cultured a lifestyle of 'busy' even on the weekends. A kind of culture that required me being on my toes almost 24/7 just so I could feel more triumphant about my productivity. But I learned that being productive doesn't have to be in the form of checked off items in the to-do list or the feeling of extreme exhaustion at the end of a long day. I used to crave for these things, yearning for that feeling of fatigue that validates the work I've accomplished. Before, without these, I would feel as if I've done nothing even if I had.

I guess it's my age, or the self-protection that I cultured recently. By self-protection, I meant making sure that my priority is keeping myself in good condition in every way possible. Since I burnt my energy and creativity out so many times in the past that it became hard to bounce back, I learned to take things slowly, but surely, of course.



Now it is not about the number of things I've done, but the quality of the work I've been doing. To be meaningful in every step. Sure, I made it certain that every thing I did was of the best even in the past years. But I lost so much energy it was counter-productive. It has felt a lot better to take things slowly and surely now and to reassess the impact of my tasks towards my goals.

This may sound a bit too sadistic, but ever since last year, I've been having issues with my physical health that may have made me live slowly. And after the incident when I fractured my spine, I had to adapt to a culture of taking things slowly. It has been INFURIATING, to be honest. To not be this girl who can do so many things in one day, to not be able to lift things like groceries like I used to and I tell you, I can carry heavy loads like a mule.

Because of these physical issues, I could say I was more forced into a gentle sort of living. I could say it's growing on me now. I'm a lot more forgiving of myself when I couldn't do a photoshoot, edit the photos, compose write-ups, draw and embroider all in one day.  Looking back, I realized I was too hard on myself.

I think it's because I wanted to make something of myself. To make this life of mine purposeful and to make my parents proud. To create something that people would like even in the distant future. Those are good dreams. But we have to learn that dreams take time and that we should not lose ourselves or lose our inner soul fire in the pursuit of such dreams.

There's this quote that I stumbled upon that I really like:

It's such a lovely quote. I think I will put this to heart and mind.

I'm also taking this time to learn new things and to enjoy the process of learning. Things can't be learned or mastered in a span of just a few weeks. Every thing takes time and that's okay.

I hope you are all well and please take care to have chances to take things slow. The quietest days are usually the most fulfilling sometimes.

Hide behind the bushes, I thought. But she wanted to have a look at the strange ones. Her eyes widened and a soft smile danced upon her lips as she observed the peculiars with a strong curiosity that I was sure, if curiosity had a scent, it would have lingered in the air like a thick veil of fog hanging above the marshes where we lived. They did not see her nor I, for they never really do "see” -- they only see what they want and choose to see. It was their curse, or so they say. And ours is that no matter how much we want to be found, we will always remain hidden, lost in plain sight until the ones who are meant to see us will do so. With intense longing, I wondered when that time will be. Until then, the veil remains. 

Hidden, a remake of my 2016 illustration

~~~

I've always loved soft palettes. When I was young, I loved looking at dainty little porcelain figurines with their equally dainty colors upon their fluffy porcelain fur and beady eyes. I liked the way they seem to 'hover' in the light, the soft colors emanating some sort of memory that was theirs but was being shared with me. This palette reminds me of my childhood days and now, I could feel the whimsy returning. I've been told to use more bright and vivid colors and I have done so. Though currently, these soft pastels are making a comeback and I'm more than happy to welcome them home. Perhaps the softness has something to do with my current state of mind? I'm not so sure. 

There is much work to be done -- the zine, stickers, the folklore book, graphic novels, character designs and of course, my Japanese lessons.

Let's do our best! <3 

Red blooms that bleed vividly into the light of both sun and moon, eyes warm as the summer fields -- all that she is reminds me of my own heart and also of my own mind. Either at conflict or at ease with the other, oh how shall I pick which one to listen to? 

I am so much in love with dry pastels. I find myself wanting to get more colors, especially deep blue and violet ones to see what I can create with them. Soon, my precious, haha!

There is a medium that had taken my heart with so much enthusiasm. 

Dry Pastel.

In my high school years, I've used pastel for almost everything. The sun in the packaging of it made me smile, as did the effect it has on my artwork. Learning a particular technique from my cousin who got it from his teacher, I smudged the pastel with tissue to make it as my base and then from there I would cover it with watercolor pencils. And then I added my own technique:  I brush it over with wet brush and added a new layer of colored pencil once again. Sometimes I would repeat the process all over again until the artwork looked as if it was printed. I rather liked it, to be honest. However, the pigment would sometimes be too 'rough' for me and it didn't give off that glow that I was looking for. It's still a good medium though.

Fast forward to this month, I stumbled upon Caran D'Ache's Dry Pastels. I have been using their colored pencils for quite sometime starting this year and goodness, they are so rich in texture and the pigments so vivid I could hardly exert too much pressure while using them. Just a stroke and a luscious vivid texture has already made its mark on the paper. 

And so as I looked for more colors (I buy individual pencils as I think I do not need particular hues that are included in their sets, plus they're very much ostentatious for me), my mum and I saw their dry pastels at the store. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get one. They're expensive -- kuripot me said no even if the curious me said yes. But upon seeing the pigments, I remember Claire Keane's artwork where she used dry pastels -- I've never seen such beautiful and ethereal illustrations made with dry pastel.

I battled against myself. Is it worth the price? And then Christmas came early -- my mum told me she would buy it for me as a gift. Now, I'm not apt to accept such an offer. However, my mum told me that if she offered such a thing, I should accept, that if help comes to one, one must be gracious enough to accept it. And so I did. 

And goodness, how beautiful the dry pastels were! And how thankful I was and still am! I used the same technique of smudging it with tissues and cotton buds and then applying some colored pencils. I felt ecstatic; is this how Ms. Keane felt? Or how Hans Holbein felt with his pastels? Utter and sheer delight! But of course, at first I was afraid. But who wasn't afraid in the beginning? 

'Spring' is my third dry pastel piece and all I could say is how happy I am with her. <3 

I have been so much enamored with dry pastel. It is such a delicate yet tedious medium but one which I find myself devoted to. Dry pastels and colored pencils by @carandache 
are so lovely and I'm very much happy with them. 

Busy as a bee, not that I'm complaining. 

There has been much going on and I have been going back and forth between writing and illustrating so much recently that the strain in my back has been all but forgotten though it reminds me of its presence every now and then. A tedious schedule surely, but, one that I find myself supremely devoted to and grateful for. I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Recently, I found myself sleeping at five in the morning and waking at nine; not a good habit and one that I cannot recommend. In the past two days I've slept remarkably earlier and I think that's improvement even if but a little. I slept at four am and twelve midnight respectively. While it is certainly still not a healthy hour to sleep, it is with optimism that I quite agree that it is the little steps that make improvement a steady and better change. And coming from an insomniac, that does say a lot about the kind of effort one puts into being an early 'sleeper'.

Amidst all the hustle and bustle, there's always time for slowing down. And I admit, I miss walking about three kilometers one way to the grocery store back in Itoshima. It was such an effort, despite being rather exhausting, always calmed me down more than sitting. I suppose it is because of the all the nature I've been seeing there -- I've seen huge birds flying over the sky and goodness I can't express how much fascination struck me during such moments, especially when I saw that fox by the mountainside as well as the ginkgo leaves and sinewy spiders. The latter was too much for me, but they do carry some sort of elegance which are rather better to be left to look at than to be touched.

As with the embroidered pouch pictured above, I have discovered a novel way to cover the edges of the piece. Whereas before I would make satin stitches as borders which took too much time and thread, recently I've used lace on this beige floral pouch. I'm still getting the hang of making the edges look as if it is part of the canvas itself. nitpicking at the stray threads to make it look clean. However, it is not for me to declare that I wouldn't do the satin stitched edges anymore as I do love that look about it. Perhaps not just for every piece. Time-wise, the lace takes little time to make and this piece took only about a day to finish, compared to the two to three days for the satin stitch. I'm quite satisfied.

Each day I am discovering new techniques and media to work with as well as little realizations about myself. Already at twenty-eight, an age, which, compared to what Dr. Lucy Worsley has mentioned in the BBC documentary of British Romance that thirty five is, as uttered about the colonel in Austen's Sense and Sensibility as, well...ancient, twenty-eight seem to be nearing extinction. I do hope NOT. No, such is not the case. Anyways, I've been side-tracked once again. Oh goodness, it's such a relief that this blog encourages the free flowing of thoughts or else I would have been answering to a strict writer mentor -- fortunately, I run this blog. Well then moving on!

So at twenty-eight, I've realized that I could be such a good manipulator of myself. Many a time have I surrendered to my own whims. Sleepy? Go on and take a nap. Craving for that piece of chocolate? Come on, a little kitkat won't hurt. Still feeling like the energizer bunny at 3 am? Well keep working on that story or illustration until 5am then!

Recently, however, I am able to stir myself away from such thoughts and actions. Perhaps the best example of all, is how I am able to coax myself away from melancholy. It may be a surprise to some but certainly not to me, that my melancholy has been nibbling away at my own self-worth and self-esteem. Melancholy, even if it sounds so elegant, is one unforgiving fiend. It kept bothering my already busy self with feelings that hold back any sort of progress as well as pulling me into the deep waters once again -- a place where I have already escaped from so many times. Believe me when I say that depression is not an easy obstacle to tackle. That one's harder than all Olympics events combined and no, I am not joking. No one really just snaps out of it. It involves a slow process of recuperation. 

And goodness how tedious it was. Nobody wants to cry as you're struggling to come up with new concepts for your projects. And nobody wants to feel like a burden. If anyone who suffers the same way as I do, or feel sadness and guilt, please know that you can go through this, although I tell you, it takes time and a lot of effort from you.

In order to get away, I deceived myself. Odious sounding, yes, but that's what I did. I pretended to be ecstatic. I looked at things that are relaxing, learned new bits of information from documentaries and made myself think that I am well, even if I certainly am not. This self-deception may not work for some and I do not recommend it, but at the time, encouragements from quotes or self-pep talk didn't work. It only made me feel worse because, if people felt better with such things, how broken am I to feel nothing and get nothing from them? And so self-deception it is, though without the consequences of course. 

And I should mention music! Music always soothes me. While it's alright to let it all out while listening to rather morose pieces, it's good to listen to those that make our hearts swell with happiness and cozy warmth. 

One particular piece flew in my direction one night at 11pm just as I was about to sleep (gasp). 'Winter Bear' by Kim Taehyung of BTS came at such a dark time in my August that when the first few notes of the song played, I was already a sobbing mess. And as the music video progressed, I thanked God for the little things that save me.  Bit of a fact, I've called Taehyung a grandpa version of Detective Conan back in 2014/2015 and I can't tell you how much it pleases this young grandma of how he is now. I do admire him so much and boldly speaking, I do feel like a kindred spirit with him. Ambitious sounding, but what can I say? Life is full of surprises. 

'Si tu voi ma mère' by Sidney Bechet is also a beautiful piece. I could listen to it all day while illustrating and writing. The same could be said of the other pieces of music which I indulge myself to listen to. One day I shall put up my playlist. 

Well, I'm just rambling now, am I? 

I hope you are all well! 

They call her by her name but such a thing could remain a secret from us and so we only know her by her title and she is called The Keeper of the Cranes. The majestic birds entrust their lives only to her hands, she whose intentions are pure, she whose love for them is as untainted as the world reflected in their marble eyes. With the keeper by their side, nothing could ever lay harm to them, not even man in their supposed boundless power. Nothing. 


This illustration means a lot to me. The keeper's love for the cranes extend far beyond the confines of what it means for conservation. She protects them not just for them to continue on living as 'species' but as living beings who are deserving of this world. She appreciates the lives of every living being, finding beauty in all their flaws and complexities that she is willing to go the extra mile to keep such creatures from extinction. If we love this life so much, then we must protect it and all the living beings in it as well, and also the world which we live in. 

Created with graphite and colored pencils as well as watercolor.

The scent of wood drifted in the cold air, red and orange fluttering against my eyes as curiosity overflowed in my ever restless heart. Standing there amidst stretches of fields, mountains and seas, I found myself taking photos of those moments in my mind, freezing them in my memory.
The vibrant sky seemed to always hover with an air of expectancy -- there's always something new to see with this curious mind of mine. I was in a whole new different place though it felt as if I have been here before. Ah, I felt the same way when I first saw that photograph of the fields on a June day -- I knew I had to be here.

And so on a cold November day, I set forth to live in an unforgettable second home.