Twelve interns were having equally musty days during the college arts internships in New York City. I lived in the backroom of a Columbia professor, just big enough for a twin bed and a waterfall of clothes to be compressed onto ropes that I hung across the gated window. Waking up to the sound of wet asphalt being tread and honked and breaked on is so vivid. I spent most of my time alone there. On this wet day I splashed thirty minutes down trickling mini Hudson Rivers next to the real Hudson river to buy a slice of carrot cake the size of my face. I ate it atop a giant rock overlooking barges passing by. I didn’t feel lonely. Even at sushi restaurants making eye contact with the romantic dates next to me, I knew I was always surrounded by beating hearts. Naturally as an artist and painter, I am predisposed to a potentially solitary work life. In addition to that fact I have at many times been at the mercy of social anxiety and teenage depression. Sometimes I still yearn for the dark brown bedroom of my adolescence - the safety of the cheap leopard skin rug, silk sheets, and my collection of cheesy lamps. When I got married, I spent the first year mostly alone in a rural farm town while my husband was at school . After having one baby, I entered the world of motherhood which is also, by circumstance and modern culture, full of solidarity. The pattern continued as baby number two was born and we immediately moved to the great city of Los Angeles. With no car and two young kids, one of my most consistent friends was the Armenian woman who sat with her crown of apricot fluff and walker each day across the way. Although friendships and social interactions have spotted my own map like bright stars, much of my adulthood for one reason or another has felt as though it’s been spent in the mysterious dark matter of person to person interaction. I reflect on these experiences to validate your possible lonelinesses and to remember the patterns of mine - the beautiful ones and the cold dreadful ones. This context of disease is such a perfectly dreadful excuse for these chats, don’t you think? Do you cry most days? I cry a lot! Is there someone in particular you miss the most? I don’t know if I do. Do you consume wasteful media and stay up too late sometimes? I do for sure. Although I would argue that BBC Maritime history shows are essential to my well being, staying up until 1 AM is not. Are you sick?? Do you have sick loved ones? Do you have enough food to eat and a warm place to sleep? Will you write me your answers to these questions? I would love to read them. (But of course I wouldn’t really love it if you are sick or hungry or crying a lot or wasting your hours away). And now, my friends, we arrive at the HAMS part of your reading expedition. I wish I meant “hammy” like funny because I could sure use some good jokes or memes right now as much as the next gal or pal. But HAMS, for better or for worse, just means acknowledging my intense joy at organizing and acronyming every aspect of my life which I attempt to expound on this blog. Of course some days are too cemented over by an impenetrable layer of dino nuggets, tears, poopy diapers, and badly made cartoons. But I am in the habit of believing that each day is truly a new beginning. So here it is, what I have been doing these days to stay spicy:
HOME - No less than tending to the tangy babies. We live in a world of pirates, princesses, and high stake demands. I also committed myself recently, again, to curating more the aesthetics and media we consume so I don’t drown in said layer of dino nuggets, tears, poopy diapers and badly made cartoons.
HEALTH - A little dancing, a little walking, a lot of picking up two thirty pound wiggle haricots verts.
ART - I recently finished three new fashion pony drawings with crayons and am LOVING the results. Also, I would like to formally introduce the reader to Kiki LaPomme. A proposed Grad school project - but when grad school didn’t work out, I decided I couldn’t wait for Kiki to exist either. I have decided to adopt her name (fully Klymene LaPomme; in reference to a Greek Titan Goddess and the french word for apple with all the symbolism that carries) in my creative pursuits, and hope you can enjoy the accompanying exaggerated aesthetics and bubblinesses that will come with it. (For the sake of this blog, I will also be referring to my family by their Kiki universe names; Ferdinand/Nando, Julia, and Boris.
MUSIC - I am working on my first solo project, “Crispy Iceberg Baby”, and am so excited to share this simple collection of lullabies for the everyman with you!!!
STUDIES - Have been feeling very motivated to learn ASL lately and it has aided my spanish studies immensely! I will finally remember CALABAZA, because the babies and I came up with a small ASL story about pumpkin pastries.
SPIRITUALITY - The other day, Boris asked for a cherry, and I told him that the tree would be so happy to give it to him. Julia asked me why, and as I tried to answer, I felt overwhelmed by the existence of trees. I’m sure I read the giving tree when I was younger, but it is as if the principle of it stayed in my subconscious for over twenty five years and only now came out. Trees only give - giving shelter, fruit, flowers, wood for warmth and building, oxygen, shade… and they never complain or ask for anything back. We don’t even have to water them. Isn’t that too much to handle? How can something be so willing to sacrifice itself for any stranger passing by? I hope I am a tree someday. I do not want to be one right now, but someday yes.
Was this as fun to read as it was for me to write and imagine you reading? How often would it benefit you to receive a newsletter courtesy of Kiki LaPomme? Would an improv dance workout video be enticing to custom electronic tunes?
All of the hearts and stars, pictures attached,
KIKI (AKA Natalie)
P.S. Most importantly, we have our beloved pet Joey back this week. It has been months since a regular correspondence. And for the few choppy times we interacted he was always sour and in sweet Julia’s words - a bit wrinkly :^+ I remember when the neighbors thought he was trash and tossed him out!!! Hoping to experiment with up a batch of sourdough pastries this weekend. Tried out bagels again... and did end up with some very good butter vessels and lovely pictures of my crusty dough hands.
I adore looking over the sprawling fields of Lindon - always some floating blossom or petite motor car with flames on it zooming by for the eye’s pleasure.
Laundry has been a mare-du-nuit. Little Boris peed five times on his peach drape yesterday.