Crafting and Carding

Packaging and design for my “Sparkler” cards

So art is a hard thing to sell if no one know you. I know that, and it’s even harder if those paintings are of people. Which brings me to a new way to get some of my art out there.

 

I’ve always been one for making cards, Christmas, Birthdays, Valentine’s Day I’ve done them all at some point. Up until now though, only my family and friends have seen them, which brings me to a decision about a month ago to make them on a wider scale. The one I’ve listed today I made for my niece’s birthday this year and hope to follow with more soon.

This means that I have to get a heck of a lot more prolific with my designs. I’m usually coming up with card designs the day before they are going to the person and not spread out throughout the year. Probably not a bad change though, means I might not be spending Christmas Eve up til all hours finishing cards for family.

Sketches of other designs

Christmas card for the bicycle enthusiast

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Last Winter

I’m sitting in Nelson the Seagull, drinking a coffee and eating an overpriced mediocre danish. Nothing warrants the prices, but the coffee is good and the atmosphere is calm. I have made the mistake of asking the price of the bread they make. 8$.

Across the street I watch a homeless couple cosy up behind a kids wagon before shooting up. The woman laughs and hides her face. They sit there, they never stop fidgeting. He flips through a notepad, she scratches at her head. All the while, sitting outside a gated building. The wealthy and the bums living side by side.

A few blocks up on East Hastings, the worst of it converges near pigeon park. I walked through it today, reminded of a crowded bazaar where the vendors are drunks and addicts, and their wares are “found” items and drugs. As I walked through that block, I realized among them I was alone and suddenly feeling vulnerable. So I held my bag close,stone faced and walked through the crowds.

The homeless couple are gone now and my cappuccino is finished. Not quite time to leave yet though, I’m warm and the place is getting busy again.

A father and daughter sit across from me, there is a strange vibe with the man. He seems just a little too attached to her, they sit a little too close. But who am I to judge.

I don’t understand this city, how can so many people end up marginalized, forgotten and left to rot while others buy 8$ loaves of bread and 12$ sandwiches? Where is the middle?