Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Liam Lambert: The fine art of dying well

Liam Lambert: The fine art of dying well: Taboos seem to come and go in this country, moving like tides across the face of the land. What once was considered abhorrent becomes reasonable dinner table conversation with a few passing years.

The one thing, though, that seems to be an abiding taboo among North Americans is the subject of how we die.
Ironically, we'll give all sorts of TMI about the various and sundry rituals with which we prolong our youth and keep ourselves healthy, but no one seems to want to deal with how the story ends.
A possible reason for this is that the process of death is so closely linked, to the point of being overwhelmed by, the process of grieving, which is terribly stigmatized.
Having a healthier attitude towards how our lives end can’t help but improve the way our lives are lived.
Globally, though, things are different. From Irish wakes to Tibetan spiritual rituals, global cultures are far more accepting of death and its accoutrements, seeing it as an inevitable bookend to life. Here in America though, we seem to have something of an unhealthy distance we put between ourselves and the reality of dying.
Recently, a federal judge overturned California's Death with Dignity bill, which gave terminally ill Californians the right to choose physician-assisted suicide as a treatment option. The judge claimed that the bill was passed illegally in explaining his decision. It is perhaps worth noting that the people behind the lawsuit though, are medical lobbyists, who have historically long opposed the right to die in America.
The question of a right to death has been almost as controversial as the question of the right to life, with court cases stretching back to the early '90s, and Dr. Jack Kevorkian and his Final Solution book. However, when one considers the question as one of quality of life, one has to wonder, at what point do we as a culture say enough is enough? While not everyone can control the means by which they go, doesn't it make sense for those who can to allow for the possibility to avoid prolonged suffering?
Shouldn't death-care be an intrinsic part of life-care? As it stands, the ability for many Californians to make that choice is in limbo.
Among those who support the law's reinstatement are members of the death positivity movement, who view death not as a dreary nightmare, but an inevitable, important and even joyous proposition. Locally, a group called Posy-Filled Pockets is trying to change the way Nevada County looks at death and dying, using humor, information and a clear-eyed integrity that aims to take some of the sting out of death and dying.
Posy-Filled Pockets is the brainchild of local resident Rachel James, an outgrowth of her time as a member of The Order of the Good Death, a consortium of artists, academics and death professionals dedicated to providing information, resources and direction for people grappling with death's various issues, as well as shifting the cultural perspective on death and dying in general. James and her partner in crime, funeral director Tim Lilyquist, offer a broad range of death-related activities, from talks and workshops to field trips, film screenings and food tastings.
James' recent experience caring for her terminally ill father have definitely colored the way she approaches the project.
"I realized I have lived experience now, skin in the game, and that makes all the difference," she said. She aims to destigmatize the question of death a little, via her events. She explains, "We do one evening event that has a ticket price. These are funny and educational and lighthearted. Then, also once a month, we hold a separate workshop, for free. The workshops are more practical, involve discussions about stigma, laws, burial plans, advanced directives and provide local resources."
So many people, it seems, treat death as a terrible, somber, life-changing experience, and it is all those things. Far be it for me or anyone to suggest otherwise. However, is it not also an opportunity to reflect upon and celebrate the existence of people who have had enormous, deep and meaningful impacts on our lives? However we do it, doesn't it make more sense to celebrate the life lost than continue to mourn them as time goes on? Having a healthier attitude towards how our lives end can't help but improve the way our lives are lived.
Posy-Filled Pockets is having a reorganizational meeting at 7 p.m. June 20, at Chapel of the Angels Mortuary, 250 Race St. Grass Valley. All newcomers and the curious welcome. You can get more information or ask any relevant questions at info@posy-filledpockets.com.
Liam Lambert, who lives in Grass Valley, is a member of The Union Editorial Board. His views are his own and do not represent the views of The Union or its editorial board members. Contact him at EditBoard@TheUnion.com.

Monday, July 11, 2016

The Decorum of Despair

Some people say there is no right or wrong when it comes to dealing with a death. 

We disagree. 

It's hard to know what to say or do during the mourning process, and no one likes being "that guy" at a funeral. We can help! We will demonstrate the most horrendously horrible faux pas from both the professional and personal side of the coffin, compare cultural differences of opinion on the manner of manners, and welcome special guest speaker Marisa Lenhardt Patton from San Francisco, creator of the fantastic death etiquette blog, Deathiquette.
Yes, there will be a quiz...and cocktails!
Please join us as we give you some tips on the best ways to stay friends with the living while you grieve your dead, and toast to those poor suckers who learned the hard way. 



WHEN
WHERE
The Holbrooke - 212 West Main Street, Grass Valley, CA 95945 

Tickets
Event Brite - just click on the event poster over to the right under our Calendar of Events! --->

Paper Tickets at Clocktower and KitKitDizzy

The Decorum of Despair

Some people say there is no right or wrong when it comes to dealing with a death. 

We disagree. 

It's hard to know what to say or do during the mourning process, and no one likes being "that guy" at a funeral. We can help! We will demonstrate the most horrendously horrible faux pas from both the professional and personal side of the coffin, compare cultural differences of opinion on the manner of manners, and welcome special guest speaker Marisa Lendhart-Patton from San Francisco, creator of the fantastic death etiquette blog, Deathiquette.
Yes, there will be a quiz...and cocktails!
Please join us as we give you some tips on the best ways to stay friends with the living while you grieve your dead, and toast to those poor suckers who learned the hard way. 


WHEN
WHERE
The Holbrooke - 212 West Main Street, Grass Valley, CA 95945 

Tickets
Event Brite - just click on the event poster over to the right under our Calendar of Events! --->

Paper Tickets at Clocktower and KitKitDizzy

The Decorum of Despair

Some people say there is no right or wrong when it comes to dealing with a death. 

We disagree. 

It's hard to know what to say or do during the mourning process, and no one likes being "that guy" at a funeral. We can help! We will demonstrate the most horrendously horrible faux pas from both the professional and personal side of the coffin, compare cultural differences of opinion on the manner of manners, and welcome special guest speaker Marisa Lendhart-Patton from San Francisco, creator of the fantastic death etiquette blog, Deathiquette.
Yes, there will be a quiz...and cocktails!
Please join us as we give you some tips on the best ways to stay friends with the living while you grieve your dead, and toast to those poor suckers who learned the hard way. 




WHEN
WHERE
The Holbrooke - 212 West Main Street, Grass Valley, CA 95945 

Tickets
Event Brite - just click on the event poster over to the right under our Calendar of Events! --->

Paper Tickets at Clocktower and KitKitDizzy

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Posy-Filled Pockets has a guest curator this month! Our very own coordinator Skye Bergen will be curating Death & the Feminine. She will be co-presenting with special guest, and local Grass Valley tattoo artist, Alycia Harr. Other fantastic speakers of the evening will be Courtney Williams, Jamaica Karr, and the ever-present Tim Lilyquist. 

Buy your tickets online ahead of time! 
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/death-and-the-feminine-tickets-26068021153


Tuesday, May 17, 2016

End Scene



Film! Intrigue! Death! Murder! Booze!

That's right.

Booze. And Death. And Film.

Booze- because we are holding this month's event at the Iron Door!

Death- because that's what we do.

Film- because it is one of the most important media formats of our time.

Join us this Friday evening down in the Iron Door for an evening of mysteries, mirages, and murders real and reproduced as we explore the relationship between death and one of our favorite distractions - the magnificent world of moving pictures.

Friday, May 20th
7:30pm
$15
The Iron Door at the Holbrooke Hotel
212 West Main Street
Grass Valley, CA 95945

We would also like to thank everyone who gave to our GoFundMe campaign. Without your support we would not be bale to hold this month's event at the Holbrooke.
Thank you!

Thursday, March 24, 2016

A Lovely Corpse Recap

It was a dark and stormy night...

No seriously, it really was. We had a great time anyway. There were cookies.

Our Death & Beauty event "A Lovely Corpse" on Sunday, March 20th was indeed, quite lovely. Even though it was incredibly dark and pouring rain, a few new faces braved the storm from Sacramento to join the audience. They drank our Kool-Aid, and we're pretty sure they liked it.
Either PFP Art Director Skye Beren has threatened them quietly, or they're into us.
Tim not only managed to make the subject of a mortician's wardrobe riveting and delivered some serious slides FINALLY, he took enough tasteful backside shots to possibly release his own beefcake calendar come 2017. (GOALS. WE HAVE THEM.)
Resident PFP mortician Tim Lilyquist really DOES put the "fun" in....sorry. We know better.
In anticipation of Tim being slideless, he was, as usual, gifted with some creative ones we made for him. Boy did we look stupid when he busted out the best slides EVER. We think someone helped him. We would like them to help us too.
No. No we don't know better. We're liars that don't know better.
 Posy-Filled Pockets, at your service. These faces are our helpful, informative faces. These are the faces we make when we're ad libbing our intro because Rachel has been busy planning shows two months ahead of time while neglecting the current one, and Tim's business picks up just enough to keep him locked up behind mortuary doors until the day before a show. Don't worry. We totally know what we're doing.

Did you see we had cookies? There were cookies.
Rachel and Tim, your impeccably dressed, hand clutching hosts. 
Special Guest Marci Bennett from San Francisco's Odd Salon spoke on the Glamorization of Expiration. "Live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse." James Dean did not actually say that.
Marci Bennett explains shows us horrific auto accidents and heroin addicts. For fashion.
 Courtney Williams entertained us with Fatal Fashions. Arsenic-laced formal wear, anyone? For those keeping score at home, at least two PFP participants were wearing items on her list.
Courtney discussing her fatal fashion topic further with audience member and soap maven Normal Vincent of Outlaw Soaps
Despite the horrible weather, our third evening event was the best one yet, and the presentations just keep getting better and better. Tim had slides! The next two months are big shows for us. In April we'll be focusing on the subject of suicide education and local resources, and in May we'll be making our big venue move to the Iron Door, under the historic Holbrooke Hotel, which we're hoping will be our new home for the evening events. (Workshops will remain at The Chapel of the Angels Mortuary.) 

Keep an eye on our Facebook page as well as our Happenings page here on the blog for presentation announcements and upcoming shenanigans! 
Rachel, Marci and Tim enjoy Skye Bergen's trip around the world with corpses all dressed up for the party.
Come to our next event! We have cookies.  
Sometimes there are cookies. You'll never know unless you show up.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Our GoFundMe is Live!

All of those fancy suits Tim wears, they aren't cheap...
 

Here's what we're hoping to do with the cash. 


We need our own projector. Nothing fancy, but we're currently borrowing and no one likes to be that guy. We want to be able to move our simple operation around to different venues without scrambling for parts; a projector, portable screen, remote, super cheap laptop for slides and a microphone is all we need to take this show on the road. 

The mortuary is a lovely sanctuary, especially for the more serious workshops, but community and audience feedback has driven one point home consistently- some people just aren't comfortable there. Especially at night. 


Also, it's a little chilly. 

We strongly believe that moving the paid nightly events to a livelier (ha! get it?) venue would attract a much wider audience, which would include the people we are trying to reach the most...the ones who are uncomfortable enough with the subject to avoid our current location. (We would also like to take people on some adventures, but that's something we'll discuss a littler later...) We are looking for a new home, preferably one with a bar and indoor heating that would be a more comfortable place to invite our guests. That means initial venue costs, deposits, and some serious advertising to ensure success. 

We also need shwag. Bitches love shwag. 

An initial investment in some merchandise slathered with our logo to sell at shows would allow us to have a seperate cashflow to rely on outside of ticket sales. The money we make from merch and tickets goes straight into improving our shows, and more importantly, providing materials to give to participants of the free workshops. 

With a wee little start up boost we are confident we will become awesomely self-sufficient with the items from our wish list. 

Talking about death doesn't have to be a somber, monastic affair. Our mission is to make it easier for everyone to have that conversation, and take away some of the fear silence feeds, and lighten the burden that being unprepared creates. 

This means a lot to us. It's important.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Upcoming Event - Death Eaters

Join us for Death Eaters, our second night of Posy-Filled Pockets!

Fatalities and food may seem like strange bedfellows, but the two intersect in a variety of intriguing fashions..

Rachel will introduce you to the last of the sin eaters, a historically brief but dreadful occupation consisting of ingesting the sins of others.

Jamaica is taking us back to the origins of the Last Meal, from death row to the final libations offered to French prisoners on the chopping block.

Tim is going to tell us something gross about bodies. We love it when he answers the questions we're too squeamish to ask but are dying to hear about. He totally gets us.

Then, less talking, more tasting as Amy and Skye present funeral foods and their origins as you "fake funeral crash" and sample the goods.

Ritual meals for the dead and the living, death by food in large and small doses, death-defying cuisine and things you just really, truly, shouldn't put in your mouth.

Join us as we hear a handful of surprising tales, sample funeral foods of different cultures, and toast to the life of Alan Rickman, the Deathiest Death Eater of all.

Rachel James - Richard Munslow: The Last Sin Eater
Jamaica Karr - Dining with The Damned: History of Last Meals and Serial Killer Cookbooks
Tim Lilyquist - The Corpse's Last Supper: Mechanics of it All

Presentation and Tasting:
Skye Bergen & Amy Sumner - Mourning Mastication

A journey through the kitchens of those left behind, with samples of funeral fare and the stories that go with them.


Sunday, February 7, 2016

5 Amazing Finds From Departed Friends

BURN IT. BURN IT WITH FIRE.
Need some incentive to be mindful of what you may leave behind should death unexpectedly come calling?

Here is a short but convincing list of 5 things that I have personally unearthed while taking care of a deceased loved ones earthly possessions.

1. Bad Poetry. So much of it. This is a fairly universal problem. Why don't we throw our teen angst journals away, and by throw I mean burn, and by away I mean into the firey pits of hell

2. Porn and sex toys. Obviously. Again, this is pretty much standard. Just keep in mind that your friends and family have to touch that stuff, so keep it tidy, would ya?

3. Secret lovers. Leave no evidence!

4. Secret FAMILIES. That's actually kind of a "thing" in my family. When my Grandfather died a few years ago, a safe was opened and there we were! My Grandma, my mom, my aunt Caroline, and my siblings and cousins, all 6 of us. They were very good natured about it all.

5. Money. This is not exactly a bad thing, but when you hide money, there's the assumption that you have a list of people you do or do not want having said money. However, if you hide it in small increments in every nook and cranny there's no guaranteeing who will end up with it, or how much of it for that matter. In fact, if other family members find out what you've found out-that the inheritance is hidden like some twisted Easter hunt, it could be mayhem!

Oh. I see what you did there Grandma.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

The Blackstar Turns Blue - Always Monsters and You


I know it's not about me.

It's not.

David Bowie's death is profound, in general. Man Who Sold the World is one of my favorite songs of all time.

Several weeks ago, I dragged myself from another disappointing surgery consult to the couch of one of the most beloved owners of my heart, a friend who feels like home-the kind of home you'd like to be in when you die. 

The baby doesn't sleep well when we travel, so I hadn't gotten much more than 3 hours a night, for several nights. Finding the time and energy to feed myself had been proving too much that day, and possibly the day before. 

Nevertheless, if there's anything I've learned this year, it is that my time is far more precious than I ever imagined, and should be filled with the ones I have sometimes taken for granted, because they have always loved me, always just been there. They need me, and I have never needed them more.

I tell people things, but not always the truth. "I'm okay" I say. "Things are much better!" I say. "I'm in remission, so that's good." I say. But I don't lie to him. I don't say anything. I didn't have to tell him how tired I was, or how ravaged my spirit feels. That I am lost, and scared, and running on the fumes of a lifelong vitality that always seemed bottomless. 

But it isn't, it isn't. 

He knows me too well, and was gentle, didn't scold or ask too much. Let me ramble, bought me tacos, let the baby tug his beard. I knew he was sad, I felt his concern, he doesn't have to tell me things either. There's nothing I can do. I care in a far-away fashion, like loving through fog. There is just me, and my children. There is my loyal love struggling to cope-I am stronger than him, on the surface, and I am drowning. If I'm no longer the anchor...

But I used to be, I used to be. 

My heart-holder left the house to pick up tacos, and before he left he handed me a tablet, and told me to "watch this" while he was gone. It was a music video. I smiled, trying to remember the last time I focused on an entire video, a complete song, a single sentence uttered by someone else. He left, and I pushed play in surrender because no one has ever gotten me to sit still for this sort of thing.

But him, only him.

Blackstar began to buzz, and Lynchian music poured into the room, and I fell into a trance in the rare quiet moment to myself. I closed my eyes, felt like I was drifting too far away, then opened them and blinked. Bowie's were bandaged, he was dying. I felt that. I knew it. 

Not in real life, in the song. I felt him dying. 

I was sleep deprived, too comfortable, unable to stop my emotional switch from flipping, and I cried softly. Because he was dying. Because I am dying. Because it's all so beautiful and sad. I needed sleep and food, I was sinking into a surreal place....

and then UPS knocked, and the spell was broken.

And not everything is about me.

And my heart-holder came in with tacos, and we chatted, and sipped bourbon, and played with the baby until in my exhausted stupor, I lost my grip while dipping him to the floor, and while he wasn't hurt, he was scared, and cried. I was shocked, so was my companion. Our horrified eyes met and I remember, just for a moment, I remember what almost was.

But it wasn't. It isn't. 

When Bowie died, I felt more than I have in a very long time. More than I did for a friend who tried to leave this world and landed in an eternal sleep instead. More than I felt for Paris, or Sandy Hook, or Amy or Lemmy. I felt sorrow like I had felt from his requiem. I felt the sorrow of my heart-holder from hours away. When he heard the news about Bowie. When he heard the news about me. I knew at that moment, long before it hit the newsfeeds, that I had witnessed Bowie's own, personal farewell to us, that I was put under a spell by a dying man. I knew it was a beautiful thing to do. I want to do it too, for the heart-holders I cherish, all of them.

And I was mournful, sunk. 

David Bowie died of cancer. Not me. 
I lived. I survived. 

But I'm running. My mind is running, I work until I collapse, I talk so I can't listen, I create so I don't stop to observe. I'm running for my life. I'm running because if I stop I have to feel what happened to me, and what happened to my loved ones, and what could happen to my children if it catches me again. I'm running from the look on the face of my troubled partner, my gentle son, and my ever-faithful heart-holder when I woke up in the hospital and they were all around me. Their faces when it catches me again. 

I didn't cry for Bowie because The Man Who Sold the World fills me with longing, or because of the gifts he bestowed. 

It's not about me. 
I lived, I lived. 

But don't forget. 
It caught a god. It can catch me. 

So I run. 

Sunday, January 3, 2016

An Gorta Mor by guest blogger Shannon Haire


It takes a lot of suffering to be ranked among one of history’s worst tragedies and biggest losses of life.
Photo by Shannon Haire - Used with Permission
The famine that hit Ireland in 1845 has that unfortunate distinction. ‘An Gorta Mor’ (the Great Hunger) decimated the Irish population and over a five year period 1.5 million people starved to death or died of hunger-related causes. Another two million fled Ireland in order to escape that fate, and the native population hasn’t recovered since. It is estimated that there are more Irish people spread throughout the world than there are in Ireland itself, and that has been the case ever since the Great Famine began.
Photo by Chmee2
Ireland is a mecca for memorials, historical places, and public sculpture, but few are as somber and potent as the Famine Memorial on the banks of the River Liffey in Dublin. The memorial sculpture was created by Rowan Gillespie and unveiled in 1997. It consists of emaciated men, women, and children trudging along the banks of the river, with various expressions of sadness, despair, and resignation. The horrifying bronze sculptures also include a starving dog walking behind the people. It is one of the most photographed public art pieces in all of Ireland.
Photo by Eric Jones
These statues are a permanent memorial to the many people who suffered and fled the Great Famine. It was built on the departure site of the Perseverance, one of the first famine ships to leave the area in 1846. The ship's captain was a seventy-four year old man who quit his office job to transport hundreds of starving people from Dublin to America. All passengers arrived safely on that maiden voyage and the Perseverance was one of the first of thousands of ships to make that desperate crossing. 
Photo by Shannon Haire - Used with Permisson
Rowan Gillespie’s haunting sculptures are a stark reminder of the tragic loss of life and home that the Irish people suffered and his vision captures the utter despair that millions of families were feeling during the great famine. These eerie memorial statues make it impossible to walk the banks of the river without feeling the desolate ghosts of the dead. In the water there is a replicated famine boat that doubles as one of the many famine museums located throughout Ireland. The ‘Jeanie Johnston’ is a is a fitting backdrop to the darkness of Gillespie’s pieces, and both ensure that those who visit the area will forever remember one of the biggest tragedies in Irish history.




Shannon Haire is an Irish history blogger and author. Her newly released book, Petticoats, Patriots, and Partition, is available on Amazon.com. She blogs regularly about Irish history, politics, and current events on her increasingly popular blog,  Choosing the Green - Roghnú Glas

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Art Amort: Angelique Stacey - Vanity Vehicle Memento Mori Paintings


Angelique X Stacey, Artist & Performer
No one will ever accuse Angelique X Stacey of squandering her many talents. 

A seasoned musician whose vocals have soared over San Francisco crowds for two decades, her eclectic repertoire flirts with several genres. Her powerful, seductive voice is accompanied by the mastery of several instruments, hand and rod and marionette puppeteering and building, modeling, tattooing, and at least a working knowledge of just about anything artistically expressive.

 When skimming her diverse resume of performances and accomplishments, it's almost easy to miss what is easily one of her most compelling artistic endeavors–Commissioned Memento Mori Portraits, using the ashes of the deceased companion. 

Provided with the photo of a person (or pet) that has expired as well as their cremated remains, Angelique sketches out the portrait, then recreates their likeness using acrylic or antique mortuary make-up as a media, ashes included.
Angelique at work
A firm believer in the afterlife and the spirit world, Angelique has always had a strong rapport with death. That connection deepened with the sudden passing of her best friend Heather, who Angelique has canonized on a 16x20 canvas.
Heather Dawn Oswald. Acrylics and Antique Mortuary Makeup on Canvas 16x20
We had questions. We had deathy questions, artsy questions, nosy questions. 

Tell us a little about Heather. Was she your first Memento Mori painting?

Heather was my best friend who died in a car accident Nov. 5th 2001. She is the first portrait painted that I have kept, but not the first to be painted. 

That goes to my Uncle Charles, I painted a portrait of him for his 80th birthday and gifted it to him. He passed away soon after, a beloved Navy veteran and Mason who also work for the SFPD.

I had originally planned to start with my Aunt Pat from Glasgow, Scotland. She was the first person to contact me to let me know they were passing. This was in May of 1983. She took me to her favourite place (the London Zoo) after I rode to see her on water kelpie in a dream. She told me that she loved me and that she was there for me. About a decade later my father gave me her ashes to do a painting with. Since she was my first after death contact.
What do you find a portrait like this offers to the grieving? 

I think it's a way to memorialize them, to not forget their faces or their eye colour and what they meant to me, I imagine it's the same for my clients, it's a touchstone that literally has their loved one in it.. Heather I had to paint for my own healing. I saved the makeup that I used on her for her funeral viewing. She was buried  not cremated so I used the makeup and antique makeup and embalming products in her painting. 

 Is the medium difficult to work with?
I donated the mortuary makeup to a museum in Louisville,  Kentucky.  It was from the turn of the century to the 1930's so it was quite toxic. So whilst using it is wore gloves.
As far as cremains themselves, it's most gritty, dust and bone. It mixes in with most mediums. 
I have been warned there are some brain diseases that can survive cremation so it is good to handle all biological material with care. Gloves,  masks. Humans are ground a bit finer then say dogs so some paintings are more textured then others.
Furry family members get the same loving touch
What would you like done with your remains, and who would you trust to follow through with your wishes? How can you be contacted if someone is interested in commissioning a piece?

I had a will for a long time that willed different tattoos to be preserved and framed for folks but I don't have someone in place to follow out my wishes, I will write that down in my Edward Gorey "what to do when I am dead" book for my survivors.   I am an organ donor so I think I will end up hopefully helping others. 

If there was anything left to make a creative use of it would be an honour. Maybe some spooky memento Mori jewelry would be nice.

Any takers? Where can people contact you if they would like a portrait done?

I can be contacted on Facebook (and all other social media under Angelique X Stacy) or email at angelxstacy@gmail.com
Heather's portrait in the works 






Friday, December 4, 2015

Art Amort: Olaf Jens


Olaf Jens is back from the grave to capture some California lady killers.

Dj, art college drop-out, Dutch expat and current Nevada County local artist Olaf Jens spent 20 years in a booze-soaked free-for-all of Djing, touring through Europe drumming for Garage Punk bands, and basically sticking his grubby fingers in every orifice of the counter-culture's creative scene.

After moving his family to the slower pace of Northern California, he decided to pick up the skill long abandoned for the punk rock lifestyle, and his intricate, gruff sketches are gracing the covers of zombie-centric punk albums, retro-creep clothing, and classing up the pages of magazines and newspapers.

Jens' most recent accomplishment is what we're dying to see. He just wrapped up the illustrations for a new true crime book by David Kulczyk, author of Death in California: The Bizarre, Freakish and Just Curious Ways People Die in the Golden State. The book is scheduled for release in 2016, and focuses on California killers of the female persuasion. Jens illustrations are portraits of the featured women, and we're waiting with bated breath.

Until then, some of his cowboy zombie skull stuff will have to do. 

The images of the illustrious Olaf Jens and a regular stream of his most recent artistic undertakings can be enjoyed on his Facebook page, or Instagram.





















Monday, November 30, 2015

Posy-Filled Pockets Was Meant To Be...And It Was Meant To Be Here

This is my version of the story of how PFP came to be, and why Nevada County is the perfect place for us to build this community.

Last year, I brought Odd Salon, the SF cocktail lecture series that I co-founded along with two partners, to my weird little hometown. Once the boomingest boomtown, Grass Valley is now an adorable tourist trap in the Gold Country, a refuge for musicians, artists and eccentrics, and my favorite and least favorite place on earth. I don't really know why, I just had a feeling...this would be the perfect place.

 My partners thought I was nuts, but I convinced them that a pop-up would be risk-free. Worst case scenario, I would personally eat the loss. I batted my eyes and stomped my feet and lay down on the carpet illustrating how I would probably die if they said no. They agreed to humor me.
That's me, standing in front of more high school boyfriends than I care to admit.
Our SF audience had been "warmed up" to "learning something weird" by previous events, and I wanted to see how it would go over with a completely cold, uninitiated audience. Does Nevada County want to drink and listen to us tell them bizarre stories? Is the flyer and Facebook invite going to be enough to pique interest in a history lecture at a bar? Is there a place for our style of educational absurdity everywhere, or was it a regional attraction?

I wanted a testing ground. Since I knew I could guilt enough of my friends to attend to at least break even, I thought it would be the perfect place to experiment.

We packed up and headed to the foothills with a combination of local and ringer SF speakers. After two weeks of promotion, we brought GOLD, MURDER, & SPIRITS to the Holbrooke Hotel...

...and we sold out.

The venue loved us and invited us back anytime. The audience was pleased, and I was rewarded for my leap of faith by enthusiastic insistence that we do it again and again. While it didn't seem feasible at the time, it was obvious that Nevada County would be a fantastic place to create a salon-inspired community project like ours.
Sean Sanford extrapolating on Black Bart's softer side
Maybe someday.

One particularly meaningful accolade came from my friend Len. Len's opinion was very important to me. He was a very serious, quiet man who didn't drink or smoke, and always had valuable practical advice, pulled no punches, and inspired the people he cared about to be their best, even if what he had to say could sting a little in the dignity department.

He told me how impressed he was–he hadn't known what to expect, but he hadn't imagined a drinking-related night of intelligent discourse. (even though he could have done without the foul language)  He explained how hard it was for someone like him to meet other people. Shy, sober, unable to engage in small talk or mindless chatter, this type of event could change his entire view on developing a social life. He said we really had something very special.

"Glowing" isn't usually a thing I am, but I know I was.

Fast forward several months later. I am giving my first Death Salon lecture on suicide, a topic very significant to me for many reasons that I'm sure will be touched upon as this project forges ahead. I was a little nervous, but I knew my subject well.
Transcending the East vs. West Suicide Paradox: Netting the Bridge and Walling up the Volcano 
"By comparing Mount Mihara and the Golden Gate Bridge, we’ll look at the conflicting ideologies surrounding suicide in Asia and the US, using these popular suicide locations and their prevention solutions in each locale as focal points to examine not only the opposing cultural attitudes, but how they are evolving from opposite sides of the philosophy spectrum and beginning to “meet in the middle” with concern and compassion."


I did okay. Not my best, not my worst. I would have been much more prepared had I not been so distracted. I was relieved when my talk was over, and now my heart was pounding in anticipation for a fellow speaker's topic that I had previously glanced over with only a casual interest.

Today, Beza Merid had my full attention as he gave his death-related talk on the same podium I had just vacated. What he had to say was vitally important for me to hear now, because it was about the only thing I'd been able to think about since my OBGYN had called two days previous, leaving a kindly short voicemail with my biopsy results. Beza's talk was called Stand-up Comedy and the Popular Culture of Cancer.

It is the only talk I remember hearing that day, everything else was static. My bilateral mastectomy would take place a few weeks later, as soon as my pregnancy was in it's second trimester.
It was a very long year.
I don't really want to talk about that right now.

While I was recovering, we received a call telling us that our sincere, earnest, wonderful friend Len was dead. He had taken his own life, no one knew exactly why. I still have the voicemail he left me, telling me that I had something special, and I had a duty to share it with others. I listen to it when I don't think that's true.
Whew! That was getting awkwardly heavy. Let's move on.

Fast forward several months.

I am in full remission, and have a beautiful baby boy that is perfect in every way. I have moved home to Grass Valley to be closer to my family, and slow down the breakneck pace of my life as it was in the city. I am peaceful and grateful, but I am...disappointed. I loved what I was doing. I loved my work, and I loved Odd Salon. Cancer stole a lot of things from me that I could live with, but my career, just as it was exceeding my own expectations? What the cock was that? I had worked harder than I ever had, given up so much...and it was paying off! It was crushing, to be honest.

It remained too awkward and painful to be said out loud. I will always be a founder, and my voice and my mark can still be seen woven into the patterns of the voices of my partners. We all pretended like I would have this triumphant return, but I knew, and I assumed they knew as well, that I could never come back.

I was three hours away, had a newborn, and I was still very tired, and very affected. The salons had matured and improved in the year I was gone, and I had changed. I had spent years writing articles and telling knee-slapping stories about death and dying, but my interests had shifted, and mortality had stopped being a "story". My last talk with Odd Salon was dark. A lot darker than I intended. People stopped seeing me as vitality incarnate.

They started seeing me as someone death had brushed by.

I had never once considered that death would come around to heckle me just as I was warming up, using it as fodder. Was this some sort of cosmic joke? HAHAHAHA. Good one, universe.

I was lost and unsure of where to go with my career. I still wrote for the same places I had always written for, but I missed working with other people, curating topics and interacting and sharing ideas somewhere other than spreadsheets.

I had more insight into the topic of death now, too. My perspective had shifted, I was no longer gazing in through safety glass, I was all up in it, advanced directive and all. Where were my death homies? Where were my people?

One day I opened up my Facebook to an invite to a local Death Cafe. I had attended one in the area a year previous, and was impressed with the turnout. Even though Death Cafe tends to operate with more brevity than I'm always comfortable with, they were still my people, so off I went. That's where I met Mr. Tim Lilyquist, the mortician in charge of the event's venue, Chapel of the Angels Mortuary.
I just steal these photos off of Tim's Facebook. I don't even ask. He seems fine with it.
So the rest goes something like this.

"Blah blah I think death is rad."

"Yadda Yadda, so do I"

"I'm pondering setting up a 'thing' here, kind of like a salon, but with some more variety, to appeal to a few different aspects. Like the industry! But I don't know much about the industry."

"That would be so bitchin'. Hey...I know all about the industry, and I have opinions and stuff too..."

"GET. OUT. OF TOWN. We should totally do a thing. We're doing a thing."

So, here's our thing. The other things and their influences will be apparent, but it will be it's own unique thing. Because the thing I do now, is much different from the thing I did then, in the "before" times.

I hope that Len was right, and this is something people want, maybe even need. I hope Tim can tolerate me. I hope you will want to be a part of it with us, because it's gonna be so extremely, ragingly bad ass.

Len said so. He wouldn't have referred to it in such foul language, but I know that's what he meant.
Len's memorial garden. The skull says "Godspeed Len" in fancy silver paint pen. As it should be.