After a very thankful Friendsgiving in Brooklyn, I woke up early on Friday morning, but not for the usual reason. In past years I would get to the mall, outlet, or stores sometime around 4 am (or earlier!) to partake in the annual shopping mania we call Black Friday. Even the name is foreboding, but I do love me a good sale. This year, however, with the national discussion centering around police brutality, labor, and the systems that create inequality, I finally put my money where my mouth is and abstained from Black Friday shopping.
I took the energy I would have spent battling crowds, making snap decisions on whether to buy that cheap, functional sweater, or maintaining my calm in the midst of insanity and channeled it into The Smudgery. I taught myself how to pull a beautiful ombré print and finally added a new item to the shop. Check out the colorful process after the jump.
The other day I woke up with what felt like a rock in my throat. Every swallow brought a sharp stab. The weather had dropped about twenty degrees recently and everyone around me seems to have some sort of bug or another. I decided to call in sick, hoping to nip it in the bud.
After sleeping in an extra hour or two (who can say, really?) I made myself a cup of ginger and honey tea and decided to spend some time on The Smudgery. It’s been a while. I have been busy with graduate school applications, friends visiting from California, and Halloween!
I want to start off by first saying that when you surround yourself with amazing, supportive, and caring people, they empower you to take the risks that otherwise you wouldn’t take on your own. Progress does not happen in a vacuum.
This is a linocut print from a few months ago, carved in memory of my beagle, Copper. He was fourteen years old when he passed, and we had been friends since I was eight. Needless to say, we grew up together and it was really hard, and still is, to not have him around anymore. But I think he lived a full, loving life, so that’s some consolation for his absence. He still makes appearances in my dreams.
If I could, I would be a Leslie Knope kind of gift-giver.