Of Things Illuminated

Over the weekend I attended a rather wonderful show that a friend was involved with. It's kind of difficult to categorise, but essentially it was a public art installation - an "illuminated sculpture trail," where a series of enormous, imaginatively-shaped lanterns, constructed of willow and papier-mâché, were placed throughout indoor and outdoor spaces, for visitors to wander amidst in the night.

The main part of the show was in a space about a mile out of town, and attendees were encouraged to walk from the town centre to get the full experience. So leaving our bikes behind, we strolled along a completely unlit series of backroads, along with dozens of others.

Portrait of the Artist as a Cycling Man

We had agreed in the event of rain to bring the bicycle indoors - a plan to which the staff of the white-walled, spotlessly-carpeted gallery had proved surprisingly amenable. However, that morning the weather was good - miraculously, amazingly good. And as I cycled to the Flowerfield Centre - along idyllic, tree-lined cycle paths with views of verdant hills and sparkling azure waters - I hardly knew it was a steady 4 mile climb from the train station.

It isn't often that I venture out to Portstewart these days. But on this occasion it was worth it. For having heard of Raymond Kennedy's show, I was intrigued. A painter and a cyclist. And his subjectmatter struck a cord. Now we would meet, and I would see his work as well as one of his bikes. With the gallery light so stunning, we brought the bicycle inside despite the sunny outdoors. And now we marveled as it stood in light and shadow, surrounded by rows of paintings.

In a World of Our Own Making

{drawing by pixelgraphix}

Having spent the past two years in "recovery ride" mode, at the start of 2016 I finally feel... well, more or less recovered! Creatively I am on surer footing and have a better sense of direction. It has also, I think, only now truly sunk in that my move to Ireland is permanent and real, rather than some bizarre dream I am about to wake up from. As a result I've been less tentative in making connections, less reluctant to plan. And in the coming months I look forward to several new projects that I'm either starting myself, or am taking part in.

One of these is the Slí na gCopaleen festival, which I feel exceptionally lucky to be helping to organise. Translatable roughly as "na gCopaleen's way," the festival's name is a reference to one of the pseudonyms of the Irish writer Brian O'Nolan, aka Flann O'Brien - author of that bicycling metaphysics bible, The Third Policeman. It was just over two years ago now that I read this book (see: Is This About a Bicycle?) and fell in love. I fell in love not only with the author's writing, but also with his unique ability to shape language to accommodate his ideas, rather than allowing for the more usual, reverse, relationship between the two. Well, I won't get too deep and analytical in this wee bicycling blog, but anyway: There is a Flann O'Brian festival in Donegal coming up, and it will be lovely, and free to attend, and will feature dinner talks and live music and a themed bicycle ride, and if you would like to join us check the website for info and updates.

Toward the Self-Evident

Shortly after returning from freezing, snow-covered Boston (where I nonetheless managed to get around by bicycle with ease) I find myself marveling again at how difficult cycling in Northern Ireland is by comparison. These thoughts come as I push myself up the vertical Fountain Hill in Derry, my eyes nearly popping out of my head from effort and incredulity. I had never been up here before, had not even realised this city had such torturous inclines. At some point my ears pop.

At the road end, my map suggests a shortcut that ends up taking me through a housing estate covered with sectarian graffiti. I am too exhausted to worry about this, my legs delighted by the gentler gradient of the hairpin path that winds past the rows of terrace houses. I nod at a sleepy-eyed man who sits smoking a cigarette on his front steps, beside a sprawled bulldog tethered to the fence. He nods back. The bulldog inspects me with mild curiosity. A woman opens her door and peers out to have a look at me, then disappears back inside.

The Owl and the Bicycle: A Strigo-Velocipedian Give-Away

Is it just me, or does there seem to be some overlap between people who love bicycles and people who love owls? Okay, don't answer that, because I prefer to believe it is so! That is why when the Daniel Rolnik Gallery brought this adorable print to my attention, I could not resist suggesting a give-away. And while normally, I am not a fan of curvy-tube BMX bikes, I must concede this one looks like the right machine for this particular Strix aluco. What do you think?

The digital print, by artist Mike Joos, measures 8"x10" and is priced at $60. An edition of 100 were made, with all but one now sold out. And now, this very last remaining print could be yours, oh lucky reader - at no cost!

How, you ask?

It will either delight or horrify you to learn that poetry is involved...

Love Bicycle Art? Share Your Favourites!

In honour of renovating a good chunk of my house, I have put up some paintings, photos and posters, including a couple of pieces of bicycle art. This is actually the first time I've surrounded myself with any sort of cycling-themed decor. For some reason I'd never felt like doing that before. But when I saw Mark Fairhurst's "Milk Race" poster, I could not resist. Living next door to a milk farm (with access to unprocessed milk as one of the perks!) a scene like this has been a fantasy of mine for some time. And while I'm not sure the local farmers would go for it, this poster makes me smile whenever I look at it - which is often, as it hangs right over the kettle. 

Mark Fairhurst is a photographer and graphic designer active on twitter whose cycling posters have gained popularity over the past couple of years. A good deal of his work is racing-oriented. But the poster that caught my attention initially was "Mercian Dream" - depicting two boys standing in front of a Mercian Cycles shop window and staring in awe at a purple track bike. Almost every Mercian owner I've met in the UK and Ireland has described to me a childhood memory similar to what this picture depicts. I thought it was interesting how the poster managed to express that sense of longing for the glorious unattainable bike. Its rather austere style simplifies and sharpens the sentiment of the scene. If you're into cycling-themed art deco posters, Mark's work is a treat - even just to browse online. 

My other acquisition is a lovely linocut print by Dave Flitcroft. Entitled "Hollyhocks," it is a small, intricate thing, based on an old Victor Bicycles advertisement, depicting a woman standing with her bicycle in a garden. Being a printmaker myself who works mostly with linocuts and wood blocks, this piece immediately appealed to me. It is not an image I'd be inspired to make myself, but I am glad that another artist was, because I enjoy looking at it on my wall. Combining my love of the printmaking medium with my love of old cycling adverts, it draws me in every time I walk past.

Dave Flitcroft - or Velo Dave - began making bicycle themed art as a hobby, but has recently opened up his own etsy shop called Art from the Bike Shed, selling mostly limited edition linocut prints. Have a look!

And if you like printmaking, another artist worth checking out is Mike Rubbo. On his website Sit Up Bike Art, Mike sells moody linocuts and rubbings, as well as paintings and drawings, with themes centered on utility and leisure cycling. 

At one point or another, we all buy things to decorate our homes with. And if you're looking for cycling themed decor, it may surprise you to learn that handmade items and limited prints bought directly from the artist might set you back not much more than mass-produced trinkets. So why not support an artist and fellow cyclist?

Andy Arthur - aka the Magnificent Octopus - has become quite well known for his lovely and often hilarious posters (he even made one of me in his early days!). Christine Evans - aka Artist on a Bike - is one to go to for cycling themed cards. Bekka Wright - aka Bikeyface - sells t-shirts, bags, and other lovely things through her online shop. And of course there is the famous Taliah Lempert, who will create your very own unique bespoke painting of your bicycle.  

Have you any bicycle art in your home? Share your favourite pieces and artists!

Roses are Red ...and Welded in Steel

While I enjoy receiving flowers on special occasions, it's always a little sad when they wilt. So for our anniversary a couple of weeks ago, I asked my husband for a steel rose from Spooky Bikes. With Valentine's Day coming up, I thought I'd mention it and post some pictures. These beautiful roses will last, and they make for a lovely way to mark an occasion while supporting a local artisan. I love mine; it is even nicer in person than in pictures.

Spooky Bikes are somewhat of a cult manufacturer, making road, cyclocross and mountain bikes in Bellows Falls, Vermont. I met them at the New England Builders Ball a few months ago and had a chance to see a few of their bikes. The steel roses are a side project, welded by Chris Traverse ("...alone with my cat and my coffee making roses that will make other people smile..."). The majority of proceeds will benefit the Sunset Ranch BMX Park in Western Massachusetts, which Chris established and continues to grow. 

The roses are made of a mild steel, one petal at a time. The petals, hand-tooled leaves and braided weld-wire stem are then TIG-welded. They are available in a raw finish, or dipped in bright red acrylic paint. My rose is the red-dipped version. Only the tips of the petals are dipped in paint, still leaving sections closer to the base raw. The bare steel and the rainbow rings around the welds contrast nicely with the liquid look of the red. It is a dramatic, visually textured combination. The appearance of the flower is natural and organic, not cartoony. 

There is variation in the shape of each petal, each stem, each flower. As it ages, there will be increasing natural colour variation. The steel looks delicate, but feels rather strong.

The roses are available as single flowers ($33), vines ($85), and dozen roses bouquets ($250), in both the raw and the red-dipped finish. Order soon in you want yours to be made in time for Valentines Day. Delight your darling and support our local bicycling craftsmen. A beautiful combination. 

Says welder Chris Traverse: "The look on my friends faces when they pull into the trails to see what's new to ride is the same look on people's faces when they open up one of my roses." Chris has had an interesting history. Read his full statement here. 

Beware of the Warm and Cozy

Watching Bikeyface ride around the studio in circles as the sun shone weakly through frost-covered windows, I had a terrible realisation: If we weren't careful, we could fall prey to the Cozy Neighbourhood Winter Madness Syndrome. Ever since I moved to the Cambridge/Somerville area it's gotten me every year. 

Not to be confused with the Winter Doldrums or Seasonal Depression, the Cozy Neighbourhood Winter Madness Syndrome is characterised by the claustrophobia of becoming trapped by winter in our immediate surroundings. Particularly vulnerable are residents of certain urban yet peripheral neighbourhoods like ours. On the one hand, our neighbourhood is self-sufficient and has everything we need: Cafes, grocery stores, shops and a multitude of other services are within walking distance or just a short bike ride away. On the other hand, it is village-like and does not feel altogether connected to the outside world. This makes it both convenient to stay close to home once the freezing temps and snow set in, and frustrating to feel yourself trapped in a pattern of doing just that. Soon, Boston proper begins to seem as distant and foreign as Hong Kong; the outer suburbs as desolate and forbidding as Siberia. Sure, we know that it's all in our heads, that we could and should venture out beyond our shrunken travel radius. But the 'ville keeps us firmly in its clutches with its cozy cafes, charming shops and poorly plowed roads leading out of town. "Stay put, baby," the neighbourhood whispers seductively, "it's cold outside." As the winter progresses, we slowly begin to go mad from lack of contact with the outside world. Before we know it, we are speaking a dialect that only the local coffee shop baristas understand. When we finally emerge in spring the folk across the river can sense we're different.

Well, not this year. I was worldly now. I was tough. I would not be deterred by the warm, inviting glow of the Wine and Cheese Cask whilst attempting to ride past it on my way out of town. 

"Bikeyface," I said, my voice ringing with festive  determination. "I am prepared to go anywhere for lunch! I have donned many layers of wool and my bike is geared for adventure." Bravely, we bundled up and stepped into the cold. Things were going well, until we happened past a new coffee house down the road. We tried not to look directly at it. But oh how tiny it was. How comfy the people inside looked. Through the fogged up window we could make out a small unoccupied table with two chairs, just waiting for us...

Next thing I recall, I was sitting across from Bikeyface, chewing on a delicious spinach pie and sipping a hot cappuccino. A David Bowie song played in the background. Humming along, the barista glanced in our direction meaningfully, as if to say "You see ladies? No need to go anywhere; we got everything you need right here." A customer approached the counter and ordered a hot beverage. It was only January, and already he spoke in the local dialect. 

ANT Headbadge in the Making

Visiting ANT yesterday, I got to see something very cool: The making of a headbadge from start to finish. The ANT headbadge looks like a piece of antique jewelry - resembling an oxidised copper brooch. I've been wondering how Mike Flanigan makes them, and now I know:

Turns out the headbadges are brass, not copper. While initially Mike made them by hand, for years now he has been getting them laser-cut in batches. But on this occasion he needed a headbadge for a bike with a short headtube, so he made a smaller one from scratch, starting with a blank plaque.

The headtube was not only small, but had decorative lugwork around the edges, limiting the space for the badge quite a bit. To start with, Mike measured the available space and cut down one of the blanks to size with a saw.

Using one of the laser-cut badges as a model, he then drew the design on the smaller blank freehand in black marker. Because of the difference in scale, the ant on the smaller badge came out slightly differently - chubbier and shorter, with a rounded head. We decided it was a juvenile ant.

Not sure whether this is obvious, but the rendering of the insect actually spells "ANT" - the head being the "A," the torso the "N" and the bottom the "T." It's a clever logo.

Using a variety of files and an awl, Mike carved out the ant and "distressed" the plaque.

The remaining traces of marker were then removed and the surface smoothed down.

Once the headbadge was ready, the patina was applied. This is the stuff that gives the headbadge the look of oxidised copper. 

This is a liquid patina goes on blue, but turns rusty-green as it air-dries. The process can be speeded up by putting the patina-covered headbadge in a plastic bag for a few minutes.

As the "oxidation" completed, Mike attached the badge to the headtube and it was done. The process took about 30 minutes total and was pretty exciting to watch. I don't think that many headbadges are carved out freehand anymore, and doing it this way gives them a distinctly hand-made look. A big thank you to Mike for letting me observe and share the process! 

The Bobbin Birdie Flies to Iowa!

I hope that everyone is having a nice Valentine's Day - either celebrating it, ignoring it, or doing something delightfully un-Valentinesy, whatever your persuasion. 

But what will the red Bobbin Birdie be doing, you might ask? She will be spending the evening packing her bags, for soon she will fly to her new human friend in the Midwest. I would like to announce that the winner of the Valentine's Day Give-Away and the recipient of the Birdie is Audrey W., whose submission I repost below:

The photo is a little fuzzy, but a close look reveals details that struck me as both sweet and meaningful. On the right is a picture of a heart shaped wheel in a truing stand. And the poem on the left reads:

"true love

discouraging, tiresome
amassed frustrations
quick release–
escape
restore sanity?

true love, loyal to
youth, to health, to
the beating-
heart

celebrating curves,
bearing pain and
bliss–
eternal"

Though not as sleek in presentation as some of the other entries, the impact of Audrey's card stayed with me, and many readers reported the same effect in their feedback. 

Audrey is involved in the Bike Library in Iowa City, where she and the Birdie should feel right at home as a couple. Please join me in congratulating Audrey on her new bicycle! 

I would like to thank everyone who submitted their poetry and art for this give-away (see the 15 finalists here). Your work brought joy to lots of readers, and I hope there is some satisfaction in that. Thank you also to those who gave feedback about their favourite entries; I read all the comments and they definitely influenced my decision. Finally, I would like to express my appreciation to the fellows at Forth Floor - the North American distributor of Bobbin Bicycles - for sponsoring this give-away with no stipulations or strings attached. As always, thank you everyone for reading, and a lovely evening to all!

15 Swoonworthy Velo-Valentines

Just over a week ago, I announced a Give-away for Valentine's Day - inviting readers to submit bicycle-themed Valentines for a chance to receive a beautiful, bright red Bobbin Birdie. Over 70 submissions were made, and I have looked at and read them all at least twice. All were beautiful and thoughtful, and I sincerely thank everybody for sharing them. I would now like to present 15 Valentines that, with difficulty, have been selected as the final entries. They are numbered (in no particular order) and your feedback is welcome. While this is not an outright "readers' choice" vote, your selections will be taken into consideration in the final decision. Thanks for looking, and enjoy!

* * *

1. "Be Mine" Submitted by Park Girl: "'The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets' - Christopher Morley".

* * *

2. "Together We'll Go Far ... On Love & Bicycles." Submitted by Stephen Lee Ogden. 

* * *

3. "Bicroscopic Valentine." Submitted by Jessi: "Portraits sourced from the Commons, Bobbin Birdie bike, and original photograph of silk threads under glass slide, taken with a Nikon 1970's microscope mount. Everything but the silk fibres  are halftoned, because that is how I roll."

* * *

4. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend. But my valentine is a mixte." Submitted by Mindy: I wanted to draw a picture of my bike, because I do love my mixte! The text still works even if you're not familiar with the mixte/diamond frame thing (see what I did there?)."

* * *

5. This evocative poem was submitted by Robin. 

* * *

6. "A day with... is better than a day without..." There is another side to this card, and it is shown here.  Submitted by Willie Bailey. 

* * *

7.  "Hip hoppin' & Bobbin' for you, Valentine!" Submitted by Julie: "My dog, Bonnie, is a little shy and eccentric, and is always the star of our "family" greeting cards. She was going to make a Valentine anyway, but she decided to go with a flashy Valentine theme in hopes of winning her dear mother, me, a pretty new Lady Bike." 

* * *

8. "All I want to do is make tricycles with you." A collage submitted by Michelle B.

* * *

9. "The story, context, high-res sharable files (including vector) for anyone who wants to have fun and make their own for someone can be discovered here." Submitted by nandapocentric.

* * *

10. An embroidered Valentine! Submitted by yn0405: "My entry, inspired by the little Birdie"

* * *

11. "The two things in this world that are true: my sturdy lugged frame and my love for you!" Submitted by LT: "When I read your latest post this morning I thought immediately of my favorite old family photo, so I added a few bits to the photo to make it a vintage-themed Valentine."

* * *

12. A poem submitted by William B. The text reads:

"Said the front tire to the rear
Follow me; I’ll lead my dear.
Round and round we’ll roll together.
‘Cause when you push I steer better.
If miles from here the road’s not fair
We’ll just let out a little air.
I will not shimmy, I will stay true;
That is the promise I make to you.
At dusk, to emphasize our genders,
We’ll slip into some silver fenders.
Your tread is slick; your spokes are fine;
You’ll always be my valentine."

* * *

13. "Sending you...  Love." Submitted by Margaret.

* * *

14. "I wanna ride with you." Submitted by AinsleyW: "Happy Valentine's Day!! Here's my entry, designed specifically in the likeness of mine and my sweetie's bicycles."

* * *

15. Submitted by Audrey W., the poem reads:

"true love

discouraging, tiresome
amassed frustrations
quick release–
escape
restore sanity?

true love, loyal to
youth, to health, to
the beating-
heart

celebrating curves,
bearing pain and
bliss–
eternal"

* * *

So, what do you think? List the numbers of the Valentine(s) that appeal to you in the comments, and your feedback will help determine the recipient. There are no rules by which to judge the Valentines, these things just sort of have to "hit" your love receptors. How much work went into making them is, of course, worth considering as well. The recipient will be announced on Valentine's Day, February 14th. Please feel free to contribute to the comments up to the eve of that date. Thank you everybody for looking, reading and participating. Have a lovely weekend!

The Catharsis of Seasonal Change

"It's over. Step away from the roadbike" I said to myself as gently as possible while watching the snow from the window. I was going to publish this over the weekend and title the post "The End." But then I decided that was far too dramatic, and that when titles like this come to mind the prudent thing to do is take a couple of days off from the blog. It's snow for goodness sake, not the end of the world. In fact, it is quite beautiful. And in retrospect I see that it has been cathartic - a resolution to a state of uncertainty. 

After a productive and well-organised December I naïvely expected to keep going at the same rate in the new year. But January started out slow and difficult, and only grew more so as the weeks wore on. After the holidays there was suddenly a pile of work due all at once, which is a situation I never handle well. And the move to the new art studio proved more effortful to organise than I anticipated (How did I accumulate so many jars of congealed ...stuff? why do I never throw anything away? and why did I need such enormous canvases, and so many of them??). In the midst of this we had a special occasion to celebrate, and some financial decisions to make. My immune system kept faltering. I felt as if I were moving in slow motion while everything else spun around me faster and faster.

It took me a while to connect this unsettled, disorganised state of mind to a decrease in cycling. Soon after the holidays the roads had turned icy, so I hadn't been riding as much as during the previous month. Of course! I was coming down from a long endorphin high, and not in the midst of an existential crisis. What made it worse, was that since it hadn't started snowing yet, I kept thinking that I could/should be cycling. I kept waiting for the idyl of December to return, not willing to put my bike on the trainer just yet, stuck in limbo. 

With the snow's arrival, the limbo finally ended and things became more clear-cut: "Right then. Bike on the trainer and you are done for the season. Now stop checking the weather obsessively, ride indoors while watching all the movies you've been meaning to catch up on, and get on with your life!" (Is it a bad sign when the snow speaks to you? No, no, don't answer that...)

This might sound strange coming from someone with a daily blog about bicycles, but I tend to downplay the importance of cycling in my "real" life, particularly roadcycling. It is my anti-athletic, anti-"jock" bias - a holdover from my teenage days as the angsty weird arty girl, for whom jocks were the enemy. Not very open-minded of me to carry that over, but at least I admit it. Cycling, important? Oh no, it means nothing to me compared to things like art and (real, not bloggery) writing. Oh this little blog? It's just some light-hearted stress relief. Hours a day in the saddle? It's just physical activity; it means nothing. But of course it can't possibly mean nothing. I need to admit to myself that cycling is important to me and that it integrates with the rest of my life whether I want to acknowledge it or not. Likewise, when I drastically decrease my time on the bike it will impact other aspects of my life. It will affect my mood, creativity and productivity. I was going through withdrawal, plain and simple.

The human mind is a funny thing, and once I became aware of all this, I felt better. Swiftly, we got me all moved into the new studio - thanks to the Co-Habitant's formidable lifting prowess and a magnificent zipcar pick-up truck. I even got a workout from carrying stuff up and down 3 flights of stairs, as the freight elevator in the building is not operational over the weekend. My calves are still hurting today from all that stair-climbing and it feels kind of nice. Maybe I should do this for fun in addition to walking and riding on the trainer, and all together that might keep me in shape till spring. Of course I could also cycle inside the studio (as demonstrated by the lovely bikeyface). Indoor mini-velodrome à la Interbike 2011? 

As I write this, the heaps of snow are already half-gone and temperatures are mild again. It is possible that the roads will clear up completely and we will have a continuation of our mild winter. But I am going to take a break from roadcycling anyhow, because all the back-and-forth and the increasing concerns about icy roads on descents are making me way too neurotic and it's time to stop. Of course, transportation cycling continues as usual. Seasonal change is good, winter is beautiful, and finally I feel that the year is off to a good start. Now, could somebody please tell me what those purple berries are?..

Things Change and Stay the Same

image from the tentacles of the magnificent octopus

With 2012 upon us, I would like to wish everyone a happy, healthy, safe, exciting and all around fulfilling New Year, full of cycling and all the other things you enjoy. 

I've been trying to think of "resolutions" for next year pertaining to this blog, and in the process I am realising that I don't have any. This may not sound very exciting, but more than anything I would like for things to remain as they are: to ride bikes, learn more about bicycle design, overthink everything as usual, make mistakes in the process, and write about it all without getting overly self-conscious about how silly I might sound. This year I was upset and surprised when two of my favourite bicycle blogs were discontinued. But I also understand why it happened, and I can easily see how the same could happen here. For that reason I feel that it is especially important to keep things low key and not overextend myself. This is something I will try to bear in mind throughout 2012. 

Other than this, I am quite happy to keep it open-ended. I have been cycling for transportation more or less daily since the start of this blog, and over time I've become increasingly interested in roadcycling. Within these two realms there are so many possibilities for exploration, that I feel as if I've barely scratched the surface. My interest in bicycle design continues, and it's been fascinating to learn about materials and methods of construction other than the lugged steel I love. There's just... so much to it all! As new people get swept up into this obsession every day, there are also those who've been at it for decades - no less enthusiastic now than they were in the beginning. I hope that will be me in future.

I've had some requests for a New Year's cocktail like last year, and so I offer you the following:

The Slideways:

. real pomegranate juice

. dry champagne or white sparkling wine

. gin (of course)

. small lime

. sprig of mint 

. ice

In a cocktail shaker, combine ice, 1 shot of pomegranate juice, 1 shot of gin, 2 shots of champagne, and a generous squeeze of lime. Keep a tall champagne glass in the freezer to give it that frosted look. Strap the cocktail shaker to a rear rack of a fixed gear bicycle, then pedal forward and backward, rapidly changing direction. Unstrap the shaker. Remove champagne glass from freezer and pour in the contents immediately. Garnish with mint. Recline on your bicycle, side-saddle, while drinking and listening to this. Repeat as necessary.

A hat tip to Andy Arthur for his adorable illustration of my clumsy bike handling skills, and my sincere thanks to everyone I've crossed paths with via this blog in 2011 - be it virtually or in person. A Happy New Year to all!

Too Local? Not to Worry!

Today I made the decision to do something new and exciting: to rent an art studio close to home. My current studio situation is kind of disjointed. I have a small painting studio in our apartment, and the Co-Habitant and I share a photography studio outside of Boston. Neither has been working out very well. I have a difficult time painting at home, often feeling stir-crazy and unable to focus. And the photo studio, while a great space in theory, takes so long to get to that we do not go there as much as we envisioned. Some restructuring is in order if we want to be more productive.

When I began to look for studio space, I was hoping for a moderate bicycle commute. A manageable distance would be key to maintaining a daily practice - especially in the winter when it gets unpleasant to cycle in the snow in traffic. Good studio spaces are pretty scarce around these parts, but I didn't want to settle for something so far away that I'd end up never going there. I looked around and didn't find much. Then suddenly a great space turned up a 10 minute ride from my house. That's almost too local!

But while the studio is close by, it is in a neighbourhood I do not normally venture to - separated from my neighbourhood by a great big hill. In fact, the entire trip is basically the hill: Both going there and coming back, the first portion of the ride I spent climbing and panting, taking care not to weave in front of moving cars. The second portion I spent descending - careful not to go too fast, as cars appeared out of nowhere. Oh boy. This is what awaits me every day, twice or more a day, in high traffic and on an upright city bike! Laden with a heavy pannier, my 3-speed climbed faithfully, maintaining a consistent line of travel. I did it, but I didn't like it. Hopefully I will get really strong in a couple of months without breaking my knees first. Of course I could also just walk; it's close enough... but what would be the fun in that?