Baby Fawn

An old and cherished postcard from my BFF artist sister Kelly Shaw Willman.

If you had to choose an animal to represent you, which one would you choose? It's a question I sometimes ask people when I am trying to get acquainted with them. Everyone has probably considered this at some point; it's akin to asking "what's your favorite color?" I like this particular question because it requires the use of symbolism in an intricate--- but still intuitive--- way. Finding an answer means thinking in a child-like manner, human yet automatic, intellectual yet unforced. The response is always telling. 

This type of association occurs often in "primitive" cultures (ugh, I dislike that usage) and also in literature or myth. Just think of the totem, the spirit animal, the dæmon, the patronus. The pairing happens instinctively, perhaps functioning as a way to help us understand identity. I think this is what it does for me... although I'm still not really sure. Writing or talking about this sort of thing is difficult; it does not fit well into words. All I know is that the pairing is important and holds a great deal of meaning.  

When I was a Baby Fawn

When I was a little kid, maybe five or six, I used to play a game called "Baby Fawn." It was a very simple game. Mom and my sisters and I always went on a walk in the middle of the day, and sometimes during this "days walk" (as we termed it) I would run ahead and curl up on the pavement, face down, and wait for the rest of my family to catch up. When they came upon me, Mom (as carefully instructed!) would say, "Oh, girls, it's a baby fawn!" And she'd proceed to speak as if they'd just discovered a real little fawn laying in the road. After a couple of minutes, I'd magically turn back into Arhia--- and then run ahead to repeat the game. If Mom got tired of it, she never let on. What a lady! I can distinctly remember transforming into the baby fawn, but I cannot recall why I chose that animal. Maybe because I thought deer were magical in their silent grace... and I enjoyed being such a fresh and untarnished creature. The moment of being "discovered" was always a bit frightening, since I'd convinced myself I was a deer, but it was also fun to be at the center of attention as a beautiful and somewhat mystical beast. 

A Safe Child

When I saw Disney's Bambi for the first time, it affected me quite severely. I definitely sobbed in the darkness of the movie theatre when Bambi's mother died. To me she was Mom. My mom. I experienced a very real existential moment involving the knowledge and understanding of death. I avoided ever seeing that movie again, though I had several opportunities. I didn't let on that it had made such a deep impression on me--- I'd hidden my tears. I felt ashamed, since it was just a silly animated movie after all. I did not want to risk being laughed at as the weepy, emotional, "weak" one compared to Rhiannon's Big Sister strength. 

One of my first experiences of Frida Kahlo was her painting "The Little Deer," or sometimes called "The Wounded Deer." It struck me as outrageously brave; so brazenly forward about an intimate, private sort of pain. The symbolism of it captured me. And her face--- calm in spite of the arrows, like the face of Christ on the cross in some of the Medieval paintings... just looking at you looking at the pain. I loved the honesty of it, and the awkwardness, like how she has two sets of ears. It is all exactly right.  

Frida and Granizo

Audrey and Pippin

In college, I made a painting referencing this one (if only in symbols employed; the content was altogether different). It is a dream I had while studying abroad in London--- an image of love (destiny, adoration) that came to me one night when I was missing Myer like you can't imagine. Oh, and Frida also owned a pet deer, as did Audrey Hepburn. What is it with artistic ladies and fawns? There's something attractive about the delicacy of a deer, and then there are the spots it loses with age and the number of points on a buck's antlers... an animal symbolically loaded.  

Being homeschooled and living a relatively secluded life in the woods meant that my sisters and I inevitably created a unique culture of our own. I have called it a totemic culture; in fact, my MFA thesis was based on this idea. All of us had "spirit animals"--- Rhiannon was a cat and a monkey, Annwn was a frog, etc. We have drawn and painted each other in our various animal incarnations. Here are three of them.

Embroidered fawn from Mirra

Rhiannon's rendition of us

My painting of Annwn

Tea

Every morning I drink a pot of tea. The first thing I do when I enter the kitchen is turn my silver kettle on to boil. I crave my tea at that time of the day, not because it wakes me up (I rarely have difficulty with mornings), but because there is a certain something about the combination of pre-dawn and that crisp, steaming beverage... that I find to be blissfully cleansing and invigorating. Apparently I'm not alone in my love of tea; it's the second most-consumed beverage in the world after water. I drink one whole pot myself, and sometimes I have more late-morning. I know people who prefer their tea lukewarm... but I like mine very hot. I can taste it better this way, and my body feels most calmed and satisfied.

This traditional tetsubin cast iron Japanese teapot was a wedding gift from our friend Mona. I use it every day.

Camellia Sinensis

Mythic/historical figure Shennong

The tea plant, camellia sinensis, probably originated in the area that now includes northern Burma and southwest China (Yunnan and Sichuan provinces), although the precise location is difficult to determine, as cultivation has spread far and wide over the past several thousand years. A popular Chinese legend attributes the invention of tea as a beverage to emperor Shennong ("Divine Farmer") in 2737 BC. However, tea was used medicinally much earlier on. In fact, no one really knows when or how humans began using the plant. To me, that makes tea both practical and mystical--- a combination of attributes I find most attractive (not just in tea). From China it spread to Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. People in the Himalayan region of India used tea in medicine for an unknown period of time, but it did not become a common beverage until the British introduced it as such. The Western world discovered tea when Portuguese priests and merchants visited China during the 16th century. Tea-drinking spread to Britain around 1660, but did not become commonplace until the mid 1700s. A thriving black market trade organized around tea eventually led to the Boston Tea Party, and only ceased when the British stopped taxing it (by 1785). Interestingly, Americans actually drank more tea than the English did before Boston's most famous party.  

The five most popular varieties of tea.

There are many varieties of tea, but five can be identified as the "main" or most widely consumed. They are, as shown above: white, green, oolong, black, and pu erh. While they all come from the camellia sinensis plant, each type constitutes a radically different sipping experience. I was quite amazed to discover (in my early days of tea-geekhood) that every variation is a result of growing conditions, climate, harvest time, plant part, and processing. Tea production truly is an art, and the more I read about it, the more it astonishes me. I'm fast becoming a snob, although I do have a long way to go before I really qualify!

A great visual of tea data.

My personal favorites are green and oolong, with white a close third, and pu erh of great interest because making it involves fermentation (I <3 fermentation).  I wish I could give you an exhaustive list of all the exotic kinds within each category that I've tried... but to speak the truth, it's expensive, and I have not been able to indulge all my tea urges as yet. Some of the best I've tasted so far include gyokuro (a vibrant green from Japan), jade oolong (it smells like lilacs!), and silver needle (an airy white). I also love the traditional jasmine green, gunpowder green, and sencha. One I've been dying to try is Ti Kuan Yin, an oolong named after one of my favorite Buddhist deities (she is called Avelokiteshvara in Sanskrit).  I'm also lusting after shincha, pouchong, and the beautiful "blooming teas" made of tea leaves carefully sewn together that blossom when steeped in hot water. I don't mean to neglect the black teas here--- it's just that they aren't my particular favorites. I do, however, depend on Irish Breakfast to feed my kombucha culture! Black is definitely her favorite.

Aside from indulging my appreciation of fine craft and intricate gustatory pleasure, tea also happens to be extremely healthy. It's hard to deny several thousand years' worth of ancestral wisdom on this front. Tea feels so good to my body that quoting "evidence" seems a little absurd, but as I mentioned before, my personality consists of equal parts hokey-pokey intuition/magic and scientific rationality, so I can't not put in a few words about studies "proving" tea's health benefits. Time magazine has a page on tea that seems to check out, and here are a few juicy tidbits via Harvard Medical School's website:

• Tea drinking appears to lower the risk for heart disease and stroke
• Natural compounds called polyphenols in green tea might protect against several cancers, including those of the prostate, GI tract, lungs, breast, and skin
• Caffeine and antioxidants called catechins found in green, oolong, and white teas may increase metabolism and promote weight loss
• Tea polyphenols are thought to strengthen bones and protect against fractures
• People who drink tea could see improvements in mood, concentration, and performance.

The infographic at right is great; just click to enlarge if you can't read it at current size. It has some great statistics about all things tea. 

I have a wealth of nostalgic memories based on tea-drinking ritual. When I first met Myer in Autumn 2004 at Lawrence University, we bonded over our love of walking in the season's invigorating chill and bright leaf-colors with our travel mugs of hot tea. We still enjoy this practice, and every time we do, we are filled with a sense of romance because it was something we did in the beginning. Mushy, I know. (Sorry not sorry!) 

Us back then.

That's about all I have to say on the subject of tea, for now. Let me know what some of your favorites are... 

Egg

A variety of eggs.

Eggs. Yes, they are incredible. And I think might be one of the healthiest and most versatile foods on the planet. This year I began eating them raw, which was a revelation, because I used to always get "egg burps" after eating them cooked. I'm not a big fan of the whites, but the yolks are to die for. There's nothing quite like the taste of a plain, fresh, raw egg yolk with a few grains of sea salt! As a kid, my sister Rhiannon owned a veritable bestiary of animals, many of which were the egg-laying sort. Here are the types of eggs I've tried: goose, duck, guineahen, peahen, emu, turtledove, and of course chicken.  Duck are my favorite. The yolks are large and extra creamy... and the color of the egg shell is a beautiful light green (if it's a mallard egg, like the kind we had). Unfortunately, I have not found a place to buy fresh duck eggs; only the black preserved ones (which I love, but are expensive... and not raw, obviously!)

Did you know that an egg is a single cell? At least that's my understanding of it; I'm no biologist. Pretty cool though, if that's the case. They are also a near-perfect balance in terms of nutrients, being intended to nourish a growing baby. Eating a raw egg is like taking a multivitamin, only 100% natural and super delicious to boot. Here is a breakdown of (some of) the contents of an egg, given in terms of white vs yolk. Don't throw out that liquid gold!!! Look for dark-colored yolks; eggs with the brightest, deepest yellow yolks are the healthiest. I remember some home-grown specimens being almost orange! (PS, yolk-fat is awesome. Without it, you wouldn't be able to absorb those vitamins).

The culinary history of eggs goes back as far as humans do. We've been eating them basically since we stood upright. And no wonder--- they are the original fast food. Long before people learned how to cook their victuals, eggs were sucked straight from the shell upon discovery. Egg symbolism across cultures is fascinating. Not surprisingly, they have long been a symbol of life itself and were often believed to enhance fertility. In the East there was at one time a practice called "oomancy" (delightful word!) for predicting the future in the cracks of eggshells. In the West, the egg has been used as a Christian symbol--- think Easter. The reason eggs are sold by the dozen relates to the special place held by #12 in Christian mythology (you guessed it: 12 apostles). Apparently eggs have been sold this way since Elizabethan times. 

If you don't know how this has to do with eggs, I pity you.

You can do just about anything with eggs. Their uses are so diverse that is difficult to decide which recipes to include here. Personally, I like to either eat the raw yolks plain or else mix them with cacao powder, cinnamon, and whey powder for a tasty and energizing mini-meal. But I also serve them to Myer in various cooked guises.

Deviled Eggs

According to my research, deviled eggs in some form or other date back at least to Roman times. "Stuffed eggs" in many different cultures take on a wide variety of forms, some of them more appealing than others. Here is one I've made a few times.

6 hard-boiled eggs
2 tablespoons virgin coconut oil
1 teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt
Cayenne pepper

Slice eggs in half, remove yolks. Add coconut oil and turmeric to yolks and mix well. Form mixture into balls and press them into the whites. Sprinkle with sea salt and cayenne pepper to taste.

Egg Tea

I found this recipe for "Primal Egg Coffee" on Mark's Daily Apple and was intrigued. However, I don't drink coffee, so I decided to try a simple version with tea. I couldn't really picture how it would work--- I thought the egg yolk would just cook in the tea and be all chunky and gross. Not a bit! It's like tea with cream, only sans lactose and plus all that great egg yolk nutrition. So here's what I do: brew one cup of strong black tea (Lapsang Souchong is great for this!)... wash an egg, carefully crack it and separate the yolk from the white. Plop the yolk into your cup, break with a spoon and stir well. The tea will instantly be creamy and opaque. Drink while hot! 

Egg-in-a-(Tofu)-Hole

I used to make this for Myer a lot. It's very simple. Just cut a square hole out of a chunk of tofu... roughly egg-sized... fry the tofu on one side, flip, crack an egg into the hole, and cook until the egg is solid so it doesn't make a mess when you take it out of the frying pan. Sriracha lovey-dovey decoration optional....

Self-Portrait

In-progress.

I have been fascinated by portraits in art since I first began looking at Dad's old art history books as a little kid. Human faces were always my favorite subjects; I don't think that needs any explanation. As a child, I loved to draw people. "Beautiful Ladies" made frequent appearances in my sketchbooks. But I didn't begin drawing pictures of myself until I attended college. For some reason, I was squeamish about it when surrounded by my family. I thought drawing myself would indicate something suspect in me. Once I started using my own face and body as subjects, however, I could not stop. Suspect? Maybe. But I'm sure other artists will understand the attraction. What actually happens when one visually depicts oneself? Sometimes this practice is seen as narcissistic and egotistical; on the contrary (I believe), it encourages understanding and compassion for others by teaching understanding and compassion for oneself. It is a search for identification through the commonality of idiosyncrasy. It is a narration of recognition. A self-portrait is a definition of reality (and an acknowledgment of differing realities). The spell of the self-portrait is difficult to escape. And I wonder, why try? Many of my favorite paintings of all time happen to be of this genre.

Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait with Necklace, 1933.

I've recently been reading the most incredible book, The Self-Portrait: A Cultural History by James Hall. Not only is it informative from a historical perspective (I am ravenous for history), but it speaks intimately to me about my own desire to depict myself... while making me feel such companionship with artists spread out across hundreds of years. If you are interested in the subject at all, I highly recommend this book. 

Some artists are known mainly for their self-portraits. Frida Kahlo is one such. At the time of her death (age 47), she had painted about 55 of them.  Rembrandt is also known largely for his self-portraits, many completed in his youthful years. I have been lucky enough to see several of these stunning works, including a small piece that resides in Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum. He depicts himself at the tender age of 23. When I stood before it, I felt as though I were facing a fire that had been burning for 400 years... like my soul was being seared by a beautiful brand. 

Rembrandt, Self-Portrait as a Young Man, 1629.

Before the 15th century, self-portraits in art were comparatively rare and not hailed with such to-do. For a great deal of history, artists were in fact considered equivalent in status to blacksmiths or weavers; they were "craftspeople," and not deemed significant enough to warrant the sort of historical memorial that portraiture entailed. Still, they sneaked in self-portraits whenever they could and in spite of ridicule or even punishment. The desire of the artist to portray him/herself... has remained constant. One painting I desperately wish I could see in person currently hangs in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany. Albrecht Dürer's Self-Portrait (1500) has deeply affected me since I first saw an image of it many years ago. Even without the art history context, this piece is (in my humble opinion) unsurpassed. Within said context, it takes on many additional layers of meaning and explains its important position in the textbooks. Just look at it for a moment... that hair! That gaze! That hand! I'd go to Germany solely to visit this awe-inspiring yet humbly-sized (26 x 19 inches) painting.

Durer, Self-Portrait, 1500.

Much of the controversy surrounding this portrait revolves around Durer's (apparent) allusions to images of Christ from the period. He has employed various conventions of representation and symbolic elements that make this reference difficult to doubt. I'm sure I need not go into why that was problematic for many people. However, I don't think Durer was intending it to be an affront... from my perspective, he was in fact "worshiping God" in his own way; in the way he needed to, although it was not necessarily safe.

Picasso, Self-Portrait, 1901.

Sofonisba Anguissola

Two more I must mention before I bring this to a close: the first is Picasso's from his "blue period." It's something about the placement of his face on the canvas, and his expression surrounded by blues that are somehow both soft and vicious. The second is by Italian Renaissance painter Sofonisba Anguissola, who created many self-portraits throughout her long life (an incredible 92 years). I think they are all beautiful, but the small example pictured here is my favorite because of the angle at which her head is tilted... and the wisdom-filled youth in her gaze.

I enjoy looking at portraits in general, but self-portraiture holds a special fascination for me. When I stare deeply into a great one, I feel a twinge of that longing--- that desire to bridge the chasm between perception and perceived. In the really, truly great ones, I can taste it. Which is what spurs me to continue attempting my own. I've finished several, all of them quite different from each other, and am working on two more. The "sliver picture" at the beginning of this post is a taste of my most recent self-portrait project (and, sadly, it is far from done!).

Lady with a Langur, 2012.