![Chandler O'Leary [logo]](https://chandleroleary.com/wp-content/themes/chandleroleary/images/logo.png){kind=logo}
Jessica and I are hard at work on the next Dead Feminist poster—I’m inking flowers and separating colors this week, and then we’ll be on press before you know it. Look for more in the coming weeks…
I moved to Washington five years ago today. In that time, I’ve enjoyed a whole lot of apples,
beheld countless spectacular views,
stared out to sea a zillion times,
stood beside many lit (and unlit) beacons,
memorized every crag of my favorite mountain,
lost count of all the city sunsets (even in the rainy Northwest!),
and numbered my lucky stars over and over again that I get to call this place home.
I’m working on something huge (and secret!) that I’ll be launching very soon. In the meantime, I’m going through the studio and doing some housekeeping (both literally and online). As happens with any big shift, it’s time to take a good hard look at anything that doesn’t quite fit the puzzle going forward.
So at noon PST on July 1, I’m going to be making some changes to the shop in preparation for the big thing to come. And while they’ve had a good run, I’ll be removing a few things permanently—including the last remaining hand-painted linocuts from the Flock series.
(Don’t worry, the bird cards aren’t going anywhere!)
Most of the rest of my hand-printed artwork (like the Mt. Rainier and Horse prints) will still be available, but the prices will go up on July 1—some by quite a bit. So if there’s anything you’ve had your eye on for awhile, now might just be the time for you to snag it.
Take your pick over at the shop!
It’s a little hard to believe that Old Town Dock is finally open, and up-and-running for good.
Photo by Naomi Strom-Avila
Technically, we had a little ribbon-cutting and “soft opening” (in which Deputy Mayor Campbell hilariously appeared to be attacking me with the giant ceremonial scissors—oh, heck yes, we used giant ceremonial scissors!)—
—but Sunday was the big party for everybody.
The Dock is still technically a work in progress, as Phase II of the project (including a restroom and permanent wayfinding signage) won’t be completed until late fall. So for the next few months we’ve got snazzy banners up instead—big thanks to the City and Metro Parks for letting me be a total control freak and design the banners and signage.
And even more big thanks to Jessica, who whipped up these fabulous fluorescent letterpress coasters to give out at the event. It was fun to see a hundred people walking around carrying neon octopi with them.
Photos by Walter Smith
And even though I had to speak right after our lovely Mayor (left), having the audience packed with hollering friends made me forget how nervous I was. Thanks, guys.
The best part, though, was the people-watching. I can’t tell you how good it feels to see people responding to and interacting with your own artwork—
—and looking excited to do so.
In the two months since we installed the work, I’ve already lost count of the number of people (including the construction guys!) who have told me their own memories about Old Town Dock. Knowing that my little illustrations are triggering these stories is an incredible feeling.
I especially love catching folks in quiet moments, just exploring the Dock and discovering each Droplet for themselves.
Photo by Sheree Trefry
It’s all I can do not to run up to total strangers and say, “I made that!”
Thank you to everyone to came to the dedication on Sunday; to everyone who’s spent a lunch hour or coffee break counting medallions (Ric, I’m looking at you; a bucket of gold stars for finding all 24 first!); to everyone who’s got a story to share about Old Town Dock. I’m still listening.
Wayzgoose worked like a well-oiled machine this year—and that’s the way we like it.
(Even if we were just a little extra tired afterward.)
We were finally able to have the event in the parking lot next door, which allowed way more people to gather ’round the steamroller—and gave the artists more elbow room for spreading ink and chatting it up.
Steamroller prints by Ric Matthies (left) and Charles Wright Academy students (right)
The usual suspects were up to all kindsa good on Sunday—
Our print (left), Beautiful Angle (center), Maggie Roberts (right)
—and it was fun for Jessica and me to come back after a year off.
Photo by Victoria Bjorklund
This year, we added something a little different to the mix—just like we did in 2011 in San Francisco. After Jessica inked up the block…
Photo by Victoria Bjorklund
…and the steamroller packed its punch…
Photo by Victoria Bjorklund
…I set up shop across the parking lot, adding a few hand-colored touches to the piece.
Here’s the finished product—and for those of you who don’t happen to live in T-town, I’ll need to provide a little back-story. You probably recognize the reference to Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, but there’s a second tribute to pop artist Andy Warhol, as well. And I’m not just talking about Venus herself—to whom Warhol did pay homage in 1984.
You see, over thirty years ago now, Warhol was one of several artists to propose a permanent public artwork to adorn the roof of the Tacoma Dome. Not only was his proposal rejected at the time, but the whole project resulted in an enormous backlash of public opinion, insurance nightmares and political in-fighting—which literally derailed the city’s entire public art program for nearly two decades afterward. Fast-forward to today: not only is our public art program back in the saddle and going strong, but now there’s a growing movement to put Warhol’s flower on the Dome after all—which, in fact, would be the world’s largest Warhol original.
Whom do we have to thank for both the…uh…Renaissance of our public art program, and the push to bring Warhol back? Our wonderful City Arts Administrator, Amy McBride (click to see her talk about the Warhol story)—who, incidentally, drove the steamroller that printed our Venus linocut on Sunday.
How’s that for coming full-circle, huh?
Many thanks to everyone who stopped by on Sunday, and to Amy and the Tacoma Arts Commission for continuing to make art happen—both for Wayzgoose and for Tacoma.
It’s that time of year again: the trees are blooming outside, and inside we’re playing with knives. The ninth (!) annual Tacoma Wayzgoose is one week from today—and if we’re really lucky, Jessica and I might just finish carving our design by then. As usual, we’ll reveal the whole design that day, but until then, this little peek might look familiar…
If you’re new to my tiny u-bend of the Intertubes, you might ask: what the heck is a Wayzgoose? It’s a festival celebrating the art of printing, a tradition that goes back hundreds of years. Here in T-town, our party mobile is a steamroller—yes, ma’am—and we churn out giant-sized linocuts in the street to mark the occasion. If you’re local, come on by and get ink on your jeans:
9th Annual Tacoma Wayzgoose
Sunday, April 28, 2013
11 am to 4 pm, Free!
King’s Books
218 St. Helens Avenue, Tacoma, WA
In the meantime, you can whet your appetite with a stroll down Amnesia Lane—take a look at the ghosts of Wayzgeese past:
• 2009 (Tacoma)
• 2010 (Tacoma)
• 2011 (Tacoma)
• 2011 (San Francisco)
• 2012 (Tacoma)
See you next week, rain or shine!
It’s hard to believe it’s been two years since the last one, but a few weeks ago I was back for my second showing at the Codex International Bookfair. The four-day fair was at a new venue this year—a space so gorgeous just I had to break out the ol’ sketchbook.
This year (and hopefully every year from here on out) we were hosted by the Craneway Pavilion in Richmond, CA. Now a part of Rosie the Riveter National Historic Park (bonus points for being part of something else I love), the former Ford plant was used as a major military plant during World War II.
We had completely outgrown the old Codex stomping grounds in Berkeley—so while none of us knew what to expect of the new space, we were just hoping it would be big enough to fit a couple hundred artists under one roof.
We got way more than we bargained for—the space is absolutely cavernous. The bookfair was every bit as overwhelming as last time (just try looking at a few thousand pieces of art in four days!), but the Craneway gave the perfect breathing room to do the artwork justice. With its huge banks of windows and three-story ceiling, it almost felt like I was spending each day outdoors. I hated leaving at the end of each day.
And besides—this was the view from my table. Is there anything better than showing your work on one of the best chunks of real estate in the Bay Area? (Though I have to admit, every morning that one—admittedly awesome—Journey song would pop into my head, just like it always does when I’m in the area.*)
Occasionally I had to remind myself that I wasn’t just there to stare out the window, or bask in the sunshine on the dock outside, or scribble in my sketchbook. But I’m grateful to report that I had a nearly constant stream of visitors to my table to bring me back to reality when I needed it.
Huge props to all the folks who made the commute up to Richmond from San Francisco and Oakland (including Sarah and M-A for their help manning the table!)—judging by the comments I heard all week, you liked the new space as much as I did. And many thanks to all the return visitors from two years ago who came back to say hello (special shout-out to Adam D.!) or leave me with their own goodies. It felt great to be welcomed back.
One last thing: major thanks to Kate Farnady, who created this off-the-cuff stop-motion video of my Local Conditions book, right in the middle of our conversation about it. You made my day.
Codex, I’ll see you in two years—with any luck, right there on the waterfront again.
* Okay, you are not going to believe this, but as I wrote that sentence, that song came up on shuffle in my iTunes! Cross my heart. I’m officially freaked out now…
This has not been an easy post to write—and yet in a way it’s been writing itself over and over again, for years now. To be honest, Jessica and I designed this broadside months ago, and planned to release it shortly after last year’s theater shooting in Aurora, CO. Other projects got in the way, and then the 2012 election persuaded us to table the piece for the time being.
We should have known: until there’s serious change in our society, this subject will always be hatefully relevant.
So here we are again, on the heels of yet another rash of terrible violence. But this time feels different—not only because of the sheer horror of the Newtown tragedy, but because at last, our country is having the conversation it needs to have.
At the center of the debate is the precarious balance of right and responsibility—and here’s where I need to keep from shooting my mouth off. I’ve written and deleted a hundred sentences about Jessica’s and my personal thoughts on the subject—but I have a feeling you can already guess what they are. And we also recognize that our beliefs represent just one side of our divided culture. So the thought of pontificating just wearies and saddens us; we’d much rather focus on how we might move forward, together.
For us, that meant starting with an attempt to comprehend the other side of the debate. So in hoping to understand the love of guns many in our country share, we looked to legendary sharpshooter Annie Oakley, whose words pierce the heart of the matter:
Aim at a high mark, work for the future.
This piece is a stark, steely contrast to the bright colors and detailed embellishments of the rest of the series. Annie stands her ground beside a blazing metallic bullseye, representing the golden target of sanity amid the scatter-shot opinions and half-cocked sniping of those on the extremist fringes. And let me tell you: there’s real gold in that ink. Jessica mixes her own formula—maybe it’ll shine all the brighter, and help steady our collective aim.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Gun Shy: No. 17 in the Dead Feminists series
Edition size: 151
Poster size: 10 x 18 inches
Printed on an antique Vandercook Universal One press, on archival, 100% rag (cotton) paper. Each piece is numbered and signed by both artists.
The edition number we choose for each print in our series is always significant in some way—whether we call attention to it or not. In the case of Gun Shy, we’ve created an edition of 151 prints to represent each person injured or killed in a shooting rampage in 2012. In light of that sobering number, we’ve chosen to donate a portion of our proceeds to Demand A Plan. A campaign of Mayors Against Illegal Guns, Demand a Plan is a national, bipartisan coalition working to make America’s communities safer by keeping illegal guns out of dangerous hands.
Colophon reads:
Annie Oakley (1860 – 1926) was born Phoebe Ann Mosey (or Moses) near Greenville, Ohio. Her Quaker parents raised seven children on their farm until Annie’s father was caught in a blizzard and succumbed to pneumonia. By age ten, Annie was sent to the poor farm, then to live with an abusive family for several years. She escaped back to her mother’s home, taught herself to shoot a rifle, and quickly paid off their mortgage by selling game. In 1875 Annie defeated well-known marksman Frank Butler in a shooting contest — and married him shortly afterward. Annie became Butler’s assistant in his sharp shooting show, but as audiences clearly preferred Annie, the two soon switched roles. Annie was a curiosity, dressed in a homemade costume that modestly covered her petite frame but also allowed her to shoot with athletic grace. The couple joined Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West show, where Annie performed for 17 years, traveling to New York, Paris and London. Upon seeing her shoot the wick off a burning candle, the famous Chief Sitting Bull adopted Annie, bestowing the nickname “Watanya Cicilla” (Little Sure-Shot). In 1894 Thomas Edison captured her performance on film at his studio in New Jersey, making her the first cowgirl to appear in a motion picture.
Despite not being from the West, Annie defined our notion of a cowgirl as a self-reliant, strong woman. She advocated for equal pay, and went to great lengths to defend her reputation. She challenged William Randolph Hearst in a series of libel lawsuits over a false newspaper story, winning 54 of 55 cases at great personal expense. After her retirement in 1913, Annie continued to tour the country, teaching over 15,000 women how to use firearms responsibly.
Illustrated by Chandler O’Leary and printed by Jessica Spring, demanding that our federal government enact strict controls to end gun violence.
Available now in the Dead Feminists shop.
Right now I’m in California, manning my table at the Codex Book Fair. But I have to say, it’s a little hard to concentrate.
I mean, not only am I surrounded by incredible work by a couple hundred artists—but just look at this space! We’re in a new venue this year, and it is absolutely spectacular.
Plus, we’re literally right on the water (really—the pavilion sits right on a pier), so as if all the artwork here weren’t distraction enough, all anyone has to do is just gaze out the window.
Now, it’s a good thing my studio isn’t in a place like this—I don’t think I’d ever get any work done!
Photo by Laurie Cinotto
Right now my little cottage-industry factory is churning out Christmas—starting with this year’s letterpress ornament collection. This is the second year I’ve made letterpress ornaments, and I have been dying to show you this year’s crop.
Thankfully, I can finally let the…ahem…cat out of the bag.
Look at Laurie’s amazing tree! She is the queen of holiday decorating.
There are two sets of ornaments this year, and for one of them I collaborated with my friend Laurie Cinotto, the fabulous fine-craft genius and kitty wrangler behind the insanely wonderful Itty Bitty Kitty Committee. A year ago I asked her if she’d be interested in doing a set of kitty ornaments, and for months now we’ve been positively chortling over these things. (Curious fact: we make nearly identical chortle sounds.)
The really hard part was picking which kittens from Laurie’s nearly endless alumni and gorgeous photographs to illustrate. In the end, I settled on a few of my all-time favorites: Clovis Ashby, who is a bit of a Tacoma celebrity. Extra-pretty Victoria Anne McGillicuddy in all her calico glory. Aloysius Petrie for his “Who, me?” look. My particular friend Baxter Lamm, who now makes mischief full-time at Jessica’s house. And Pearla Dearborn, to whom my secret heart belongs forever (even though she doesn’t live with me). And watching over the flock is Laurie’s own Empress Mama cat, Charlene Butterbean.
These kitties (and Laurie’s photographs) are T-town legends, as I found out this weekend. We did a little ornament test-drive at a local craft fair, and people kept saying things like, “Hey, that’s Clovis on that tree!” and “Wait a minute—what is Charlene Butterbean doing at your table?” But whether these guys are old hat for you, or you’re a dog person who’s never heard of such a thing as kitten blogs on the Internet—well, I just dare you to tear your eyes away from Laurie’s world.
There are just 200 sets of these ornaments to go around, and each one is ridiculously handmade. To give you an idea of just how ridiculous, I thought I’d walk you through part of the process.
Yes, there’s sushi on that press sheet. That’s the other ornament set this year…
Y’all know my printing process pretty well by now, so I’m going to skip ahead a bit. Just FYI, these are linocuts; check out my bird prints if you’re curious about that process. But as you can see, I printed both ornament sets all at once, on one press sheet.
Then I went ahead with my usual hand-coloring assembly line.
No, wait a minute. I said 200 prints, right? Well, that’s a small edition for retail goods, but when you’re hand-painting each one, 200 feels more like eleventy billion.
There, that’s more of an accurate picture.
Still, if the work stretching endlessly ahead of you to the horizon is a bunch of drawings of kittens, it’s impossible not to be happy about it, despite yourself. I know—I tested the hypothesis, and I’m still grinning like a fool.
This year I added a new step to the process: rather than hand-cutting all 1200 kitties in the set by hand (ahem, Local Conditions, I’m looking at you!), I made the design simple enough that I could semi-automate part of the assembly line. I bought a hand-crank die-cutting machine, created a digital dieline (basically an industrial pattern) of my design, and sent it off to a friendly steel rule manufacturer in Kent.
I know that plank with all those pink foam bits doesn’t look anything like an ornament set, so let me zoom in. A die consists of steel blades embedded in a piece of wood. The blades are bent and arranged in precisely the configuration specified by the dieline. Those pink foam bits cushion the blades, hold the paper in place and help with cutting accuracy. When the die is run through the cutting machine (which works much like a Vandercook press), those pink bits squish down under pressure, exposing the blades and gripping the paper to be cut. Those metal pins sticking up are for lining up the press sheet—they’re spring-mounted, so they retract when the blade goes through the cutting machine.
Here’s the underside of the die—now you can see how the blades fit the press sheet.
Still, while the die is a total lifesaver in terms of cutting time, the lightweight paper I was cutting made for some wiggle room—even with the extra line tolerance I built into the design. After all that hand-coloring I didn’t want to lose a third of my prints by cutting them in the wrong place. So I still had to do some puzzling and figure out how to outsmart the limitations here.
Since the lightweight prints are mounted to a heavier board to complete the ornaments (the ribbon loops are sandwiched in between), I was basically using the die twice. I realized that the leftover blanks of board would make a good template, and wouldn’t wiggle under pressure.
A little masking tape,
some quick eyeballing,
and slow-and-steady cranking in the press—
—and Bob, as they say, is your uncle.
Individually taping down all eleventy billion 200 press sheets was a little mind-numbing, but still, the “finished” pile added up fast.
And it was awfully satisfying to see the whole edition completed in days rather than weeks or months.
Laurie stepped in and saved my sanity by doing a lot of the grunt work—rough-cutting boards, snipping lengths of ribbon, and cutting insets into the board-kitties so that the ribbon loops lie flush and disappear.
A quick coat of black around the edges,
and just a wee bit of cursive script on the back,
—and we have a litter of Christmas kittens. Laurie contributed one of my favorite photos for the packaging, and I basically have been unable to stop squealing ever since. Now the Tailor and I just need to hurry up and chop down our Christmas tree, so I can display these guys in the living room!
If you’d like a set, they’re up in the shop. To answer the foreseeable question, we’re just offering these in full sets—they were printed in sets, so we don’t really have any oddball solo pieces this time. And last year almost everyone wanted the full set of bird ornaments, rather than just one, so I let those votes carry the motion. Actually, there are still some bird sets left, so feel free to snag ’em if you missed out last year. As usual, these are limited-edition—I won’t be reprinting them, so once they’re gone, they’re gone for good.
One last thing: to make sure that Tacoma pets also have a happy holiday season this year, Laurie and I will be donating a portion of our proceeds to help stock the Tacoma Humane Society’s emergency pet food bank. We want to make sure that while we’re all having a kitty-themed Christmas, the kittens who inspire us get to enjoy Christmas dinner, too.
Happy tree-trimming!
