Showing posts from May, 2014

Mawusi: See You at Hester Street Fair This Weekend!

Dear New Yorkers, If you are free this weekend, Time Out New York thinks one of the best things you could do is to stop by Hester Street Fair on Saturday and Sunday.  They are expanding to Seward Park! There will be about 30 vendors selling one of a kind handmade and vintage items, yummy food, live music, Yoga in the park, giveaways and more. I will be there with my handmade items on both Saturday and Sunday! So please stop by. 
When: Saturday May 31st & Sunday June 1st Where: Corner of Hester and Essex (Take the F J M Z to Delancey or F to East Broadway) Time: 11am - 6pm

See you there! Jane
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Summer Diaries: Making for Myself!

Have you seen those cute kimono-ish, morning coat-ish cover-ups sweeping gracefully about town? I keep eyeing them everywhere and wanting to get one. I found several vintage kimonos that will do perfectly but my budget is so tight it is choking itself into a grave. I love cardigans, and I love house coats so I am rooting for this new (is it new?) trend of wearing what looks like a house coat in the streets. I decided to try and make myself a cover-up! I don't trust Mother's sewing machine. I think it is faulty, and I am better with a needle and thread than with a sewing machine anyway. I put my old skills together and came up with what is in the images below! I crocheted the lace bottom to give it a bit of charm and I am still debating whether or not to add pockets. I have enough fabric to make pockets, or I can crochet pockets...still thinking

Have a blast! -Jane

Poetry: A Way of Life by Marjorie Welish

A Way of Life
by Marjorie Welish*

The vintner says, "There is no prohibition against putting off
                 a tourist needlessly."

As a tourist aches, as a tourist experiences the entailment
of Europe without the words and only a wallet to express,
feeling adult but stored within the body of an infant,

you may bathe now
on the stairs
of voices.

And so when the concierge says that a tourist is one
who does not speak, who does not dream, and who is not born
presupposing our language, we cannot say there has been a violation
if the tourist among us catches the historical entailment.
The concierge does not touch his arm, however,
to remind him of the predatory numbness setting in
and what will follow:   feeling foreign from morning to noon.

Even a vintner catches the entailment of Europe.
You may bathe now on the stairs of voices,
but the concierge will balk at linking arms with you.

Listen to my reading of the poem below:

*At present, Welish is the best professor I h…

Meet Ashleigh of Ashleigh Hodges Photo on Etsy!

I’m Ashleigh Hodges, a photographer and designer from Orinda, California. My label is Ashleigh Hodges Photo.  I work in my home studio while trying to keep up with my busy family of five. They include my children, Moriah, Elijah and Leilah and my ever supportive best friend and husband, Kevin.  I am the daughter of a potter and a retired electrician who now creates wood and metal garden sculptures, the niece of a painter, and the granddaughter of a woman who created beautiful quilts. Along life’s path, I discovered photography! My journey into the world of photography began over 30 years ago. I remember visiting San Diego Zoo when I was six and being mesmerized not by the beautiful animals but, by the shiny black camera my mom was using. How is it that she could capture our day in that little box and then have it printed for all to see?! By the time I was 14, I had my own "magic box," a 35mm Olympus camera. It was also at this time that my family began to travel abroad.  First…

Observation: Light and Darkness.

It is dark, and a bit of light seeps in from outside: soft and yellowish. Everything is wrapped, gently, in shadows. My eyes do not recognize the furniture nor the space but my memory does, so I translate  the memory of my vision as sight. Yet I distrust, a little, all that I had fully accepted to be true in the daylight. When all seemed clear, I arrogantly believed that, that which is visible is all that there is. It seems then that in both the light and its absence I am blind, but only in the darkness am I aware of my blindness.


Grad School Diary: End of a Chapter

On Tuesday I visited the learning center for the first time in my graduate career. I needed someone to re-read my last final paper before I re-submitted it on Wednesday. It was an interesting experience. I was slightly embarrassed, though curious to watch another's face as they tried to decipher my writing.   It didn't hurt at all that they were able to notice my grammatical errors right away. I am not very good at finding those ruffians.  Now all I have to worry about is finding an advisor before I am forced to have a second penultimate semester. I had an advisor but she ditched me for a Guggenheim Fellowship. I would have done the same.

Right! So I was at the library and got a few dirty books (and so badly written they make me think of Breton's manifesto on surrealism. It was a background source for one of my papers and he ridicules the predictable novel with such disdain that I find amusing. What I am reading now is far far worse, so the question is what will Breton th…

Poetry: Ethics by Linda Pastan

by Linda Pastan

In ethics class so many years ago
our teacher asked this question every fall:
If there were a fire in a museum,
which would you save, a Rembrandt painting
or an old woman who hadn’t many
years left anyhow?  Restless on hard chairs
caring little for pictures or old age
we’d opt one year for life, the next for art
and always half-heartedly.  Sometimes
the woman borrowed my grandmother’s face
leaving her usual kitchen to wander
some drafty, half-imagined museum.
One year, feeling clever, I replied
why not let the woman decide herself?
Linda, the teacher would report, eschews
the burdens of responsibility.
This fall in a real museum I stand
before a real Rembrandt, old woman,
or nearly so, myself.  The colors
within this frame are darker than autumn,
darker even than winter — the browns of earth,
though earth’s most radiant elements burn
through the canvas. I know now that woman
and painting and season are almost one
and all beyond the saving of children.


Fashion: African Inspired

The print and cut of this dress is amazing, and so is the wearer. Have you heard of African Prints in Fashion? Well, this is Kukua and she's the woman behind that very popular and inspiring brand. Read her story here.
Photo: J. Quazi King
Have an awesome Tuesday. -J

General Update: Human Symptoms

There are so many things I have to do. A glance at my to do list and I feel miserable. I am at the mercy of a little mental exhaustion. I have been pushing myself like crazy these past few weeks, trying to meet every deadline. Now my most prominent thought  is "I am tired." So it's Monday and I am thinking argh argh argh. And I will be fine. As soon as I go through some of my favorite music albums, a good workout, and some amazing breakfast. Sometimes I forget to take it easy on my body and as a result I get locked away in a brain cell (love this pun).
Have a good Monday and take it easy. -J

Mawusi: MoCADA DIY Fest

It's tomorrow (Saturday)! I've been working like crazy for this event so stop by if you can. There will be a couple of things that are not available in the shop yet, and if you've not gotten your Mother's Day gifts yet, I am sure I can help you, or the other amazing vendors would! See you soon! 
Location: 80 Hanson Place (Clinton Hill Brooklyn, NY) MoCADA Museum Time: Noon - 7pm
See here for more info.

Thanks! Jane
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Grad School Diary: A Bit Heavy

It is raining as I write this. And I'm thinking of my first post here this semester and how much time has gone by and how time hasn't really gone anywhere.  As I read all these arguments left by these dead authors I feel that they have lived. That they ate and slept, felt happiness and sadness, argued and fought, had sex and parties (even with Dickinson, one cannot be so certain). They knew childhood and some knew old age and what they have in common is not only that they left their thoughts and ideas in prose, poetry, and art to us, but that they cease to breath.  So when I leave will it be this that remains? My blog and such? Do I have anything that would stand in my stead and keep me "alive"? Of course I don't, but one can't really live like that, can they? Or better yet should they live today with the sole aim of preparing materials for tomorrow to remember them by? In that time is just a moment, nothing really matters; nothing is worth taking so serious…

Poetry: This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams

This is Just to Say
By William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Listen to my reading of "This is Just to Say" below:

Meet Efrat of Efratul Designs

My name is Efrat.  I'm a graphic designer and the owner of Efratul Designs.  
I live and work in Tel Aviv, Israel.  I have two sweet sons, one is 4 years old and the other just turned one. My studio practices in graphic design — especially designing wedding albums — and we also have a line of products we make and sell online and at several stores here in Israel.
My Map zipper pouches include different sizes of wallets, pencil cases, passport covers, clutches, and bags with map prints from different cities around the world.

I studied industrial design, but I have always loved the graphic aspect of it.
  I combined them together and created a line of products which is very graphic but still usable and fun. I enjoy creating new patterns for my products, focusing on different cities in the world, and sometimes just colorful graphic patterns. I also make custom map wallets and custom zipper pouches. This way you can order a wallet with the  street map of any city you choose. It can be…

Observation: The Birds

Last Monday's evening
on a platform in Brooklyn,
I waited for the train to
bring me home to Queens.
I looked up for airplanes,
for the lines they
make in the sky.

Two birds flew...
towards the direction
I would have flown


I had wings. Dark feathers
flap against clear blue
skies. I watched.  One
behind the other, always.

And to the side
sometimes, directly behind sometimes, a little closer
sometimes, a little further sometimes.
And never next to each other.

They left
no marks in the sky.

Have a beautiful week.

Mawusi: New In Shop + Event Reminder

Happy Friday! I have added two new things to the shop and had totally forgotten to share the news here. 1. The Adenta Granny Square Crop Top (pictured below) 2. The Akoko Gathered Yarn Brooch.

Also, Mother's Day is just around the corner. If you're planning to get something from Mawusi for your mom, today is the last day to get it through and Mawusi on Etsy. I can't guarantee that after today(05/02/2014) you will be able to get it in time. Here are my top three picks for Mother's Day gifts
1. The Soft Waffle Mohair Scarf — A perfect luxurious shawl for spring through fall evenings, and a great scarf for winter. Looks great dressed down or up.
2. The Happy Kroyo Multifunctional Necklace — This beautiful necklace can be worn as a headband or belt too; but even just as a necklace; it's unique and multifunctional.
3. The Happy Koryo Yarn Bracelets — Great for everyday wear, and great at keeping you in good spirit (ask anyone who has gotten them!) Create matc…

Grad School Diary: May First

Happy first day of May! Right this moment my eyes are bloody. Too much staring at the computer will give yours that attractive shade. Most of the scholarships necessary to build my essays are on JSTOR, hence my eyes are forever glued to the exciting screen of my dear Sirvin. I say why waste paper, but it is also why waste ink, and to the point why waste money? So my priceless eyes are getting wasted instead. Ah but I am not complaining.  Really, I am not. The papers are coming along. Not as quickly and or as smoothly as I wish but we're getting somewhere. What is grad school, after all,  if one cannot suffer the papers?

In thirteen days I can imagine myself stretched out on some beach for ten minutes, because after the 13th day of this May my summer vacation is official and my penultimate semester is toasted (becomes a historical moment in my life). I shall then proceed to the next stage: drenching in sweat as I await those grades that my bloodshot eyes have produced; if they are…