GRIZZLY PEAR

written snapshots

Category: Life

  • 2023 Retrospective & 2024 Prospective

    I’m trying a new format where I just comment on things with three bullet points. Hopefully it will help me blow through the backlog of old blog drafts. Thought I’d try it out by looking at the year in review and the year to come.

    But you must read Andrei Atanasov’s No. 26 – Dancing In A Supermarket first! I don’t care if you make it back.

    ,
     

    2023

    My theme this year was “catching up”. I feel like I did just OK with the theme, but the more that I think about it, it was an eventful year as we started re-integrated back into society despite our pandemic caution.

    Highlights

    • Buying a House
    • Visiting San Diego (twice!)
    • Two great architects joined the Division

    Hobbies

    • Reading — Homer and Tarot
    • Substack — finding fellow wanderers on Notes
    • Fountain Pens — Sketching and Calligraphy

    Lowlights

    • Getting the house ready for move-in, renovations are still miserable.
    • Didn’t exercise nor eat well enough, gained weight.
    • Distractions, unfocused focused, especially the second half of this year.

    ,
     

    a year
    a life
    goodbye
    tomorrow
    smiles and
    sorrow
    hello

    When calligraphing, I have to be completely focused. This morning I chose John Coltrane’s Giant Steps instead of the usual Chicken and Dumplin’s by Bobby Timmons. That slight change was enough to add an extra O to the page. Fortunately, the early mistake kept me ultra-concentrated for the rest of the exercise.

    It’s been twenty years since hand drafting at the ground floor of Ron Bogley’s house. Small residential doesn’t pay well, but it was the most fun I’ve had as an architect. Graphite on vellum is a lot more forgiving so I would listen to the baseball games as I lettered.

    ,

    2024

    My theme for next year is “settling in”. For the new house and everywhere else. The first half of the year will be a mess between the house and the biennial cycle for my government job. Hopefully the second half will be a time of customizing the home to fit our needs, it’s been a decade of always thinking we’re moving soon.

    Settling In

    • At the new House
    • Returning to the Office (again)
    • Digital Places and Processes

    Practices

    • Sketching and Calligraphy
    • Exercising
    • Reading my repeating “little library” and pushing forward on the classics

    Tiny Targets (and goals)

    • Three deep breaths on a yoga mat every morning. (I’d love to do the 8 Brocades three times a week, but I’ll start tiny.)
    • Sit down and say a small mantra before eating anything, including snacks. (The big goal is to lose a couple of pounds a month, but the numerical goal failed spectacularly last year. Maybe instilling a mindfulness practice is the first step in the process.)
    • Do something with a pen every morning (It would be nice to finish my OPM Letters and clear out my pile of read books to be blogged.)

    ,
     

    new book
    new year
    new month
    new week
    new day
    Foundational Hand
    new font 

    I wrote this on 12/26 with a new-to-me font from The Art of Calligraphy by David Harris. I messed up the word order on the last line (working from bottom up) and kept it for the rest of the poem. But it sounds wrong so I went back to the original wording in the light blue scribbles.

    I’m not sure if I will stick with Foundational Hand for a long period (as I did with Uncial) but I’ll give it at least a week before exploring other fonts.

    This morning habit of writing a tiny poem for calligraphy practice has a highlight of this season to close out the year. Thanks to Beth Kempton and Nadia Gerassimenko for catalyzing the #tinypoem project! I just got Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook — hopefully her wisdom will help me write gooder before I start publishing them in earnest.

    On to another 366 days of discovery in 2024!

    !

  • Merry Christmas!

    Woke up early.

    Checked my phone. Post a comment on a blog.

    Realize it’s Christmas!

    Wrote a tiny poem.
     

    I don’t
    believe
    in Baby
    Jesus
    no more
    so I
    Christmas
    all the
    Harder

    I grew up conservative Christian. And Asian-American. My parents left Hong Kong and Taiwan and met here in the States. With the clarity of immigrants, they sensed that Christmas was a frivolous, secular holiday.

    When my sister and I were teens, they gave in. We started exchanging small gifts. My mom added small decorations around to the house but never bothered with a tree.

    We still drove down to LA from the Bay Area on Christmas because traffic was lighter. We’d eat at my grandparent’s favorite dim sum place in Monterey Park. (My aunt suspected that they liked that spot because the tea was brewed extra strong.)

    We didn’t buck the holiday, but we never gave it religious significance. For a real Christian, every day is Christmas and Easter. Picking out holy-days still feels kind of pagan.

    I drifted away when I grew up. It didn’t do much for me emotionally, and I finally bailed when George W. Bush co-opted the religious establishment to support his optional war. Even so, I always planned on taking my kids to church on Christmas, so they could feel the religious origins of this season.

    That notion died with the election of the Trump. My wife (never religious) was so disgusted with white evangelicals that she didn’t want our kids anywhere near such cruel hypocrites nor be tempted by the pomp and circumstance of their celebration.

    Instead, every year I put up a plastic tree from Ikea on Thanksgiving, buy a few toys, wrap the last six months of library book sale finds in old architectural printouts, watch a Christmas movie, and clean everything up on New Year’s Day.

    Last year ago, I told my daughter the myth of Jesus. It blew her mind. I might as well have grown a third head (or narrated the nsfw story of Lot and his daughters).

    An all-powerful deity came down to this filthy planet to be born in horse shit, grow up as a carpenter, start a small cult as a wandering sage, only to be executed in excruciating fashion. All to pay the blood penalty for the evil committed by his own shithead creatures.

    So here I am, suddenly marveling at the magic of Christmas. Say what you will about the religion, that’s an awesome story.

  • Imperfections and All

    I quit drawing twenty years ago because of the anxiety about the fidelity between the image and reality.

    I would feel a panic attack in my throat when the image went off script and I knew I wasn’t going to spend the hours to make it perfect.

    A few years ago I had accepted the hard fact that I would never draw again, like I will never take the time become literate in Chinese.

    Last November, I started sketching again because I wanted to see more drawings on Post and Tara Trudel encouraged us to share our work.

    It became a drawing habit by quietly following the 30 day challenge on Wendy MacNaughton’s Substack.

    Now I’m drawing cause I enjoy it.

    I know I’ve hit the flow when a deep breath exhales from my lungs. These 10 minute hand sketches have become a daily meditation.

    They’re not perfect. They’re not even great (look at the all amazing hands on Pinterest!) But they’re mine and I’m an indulgent judge when I’m not worried about what other people might think.

    Like my kids, I’ve learned to proudly marvel at the stuff that comes from my own hand. Imperfections and all.

    2023

  • Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Chris Columbus, 2001

    I only watched this because of my daughter. I was just old enough to miss the book phenomenon, and I couldn’t be bothered to the watch the movies.

    So far, it’s done nothing to interest me in reading the books, but I’ll be fine with watching future movies if she insists (tellingly, she hasn’t insisted in the months since we’ve watched it).

    She had fun, though as all good readers she was disappointed in some of the changes.

    Voldemort is a properly horrific villain. I could only imagine how much more scary this movie would be with modern CG.

    But really, I’m realizing I’m an animation fan. Maybe it has something to do with watching very little TV (aside from documentaries) while growing up. Or I just prefer the surreal possibilities of that medium. Or the pure craft of the art.

    Real life is magical enough, I don’t feel compelled to watch other humans live their lives on the big screen.

    Maybe it’s cause I’m getting older. I feel a slight pressure of time and yet still harbor a desire to develop a deeper subject knowledge in a few cool subjects. The only way to square that circle is to start actively cutting things out.

    Like in jazz. I ain’t ever giving up Coltrane, Thelonious, Kind of Blue, or Keith Jarrett’s solo albums. But I’ve recently decided to focus my listening on jazz trios. If it’s not one those greats, there better only be three folks on stage.

    Or my recent trend towards avoiding books that are younger than me (Calvino and Murakami excepted), letting the ravages of time simplify my choices.

    Then again, I thought I’d do something similar with EDM and Glitch Hop, but it doesn’t seem to have panned out. I’m back to listening to whatever banging noise gets me through work.

    Who knows. It’s a time of flux.

    It’s always a time of flux.

  • OPM.45 Blood Money

    When I was in private practice, I avoided thinking about cost and schedule. Not that I was wasteful with my clients’ money, but these matters weren’t my responsibility.

    As an Owner’s PM, that’s flipped. Budgets and schedules are what I do. Half my job is to justify funding for these projects (and the other half is to spend the money).

    This experience has made war really expensive.

    An M1A2 Main Battle Tank costs $9 million. Four of those would build a new 67,000 square feet school of education building that took five years of my life.

    It costs $44,000 per hour to fly an F-35. That’s what I paid to demolish a kitchen to create an activity area for disabled residents.

    Let’s not even think of all the hours of training for each soldier and the years of productivity that are erased with each well placed bullet.

    War is doubly expensive when we factor in the opportunity cost of what hasn’t been built with these funds.

    Triply so when we think of the destruction. Even a just war doesn’t negate the wanton waste of such a calamity.

    And then we’ll have to rebuild it — if we get that chance.

    ~

    Some Links

    Last year, I stumbled across Bobby Timmons due to his brilliant Christmas album Holiday Soul. I recently discovered his awesome album This Here is Bobby Timmons. His life ended much too early, but he left us with some great music.

    Nadia Gerassimenko writes an eclectic smorgasbord of essays, fiction, poetry, and guest posts that pulls from a wide field of influences including pop, horror, and video games. It’s always a pleasure to read, Her recent story “Siren with a soft sign” is a haunting story of a woman transforming into a flower bed.

    I first met Debbie Ridpath Ohi elsewhere, but when she had Inkgirl I knew that Substack’s new “Notes” social media platform had a place for me. Her posts are always insightful, and her occasional long essays about her experience as an illustrator are applicable to anyone who starting (or continuing) a new endeavor.

    ~

    Captain Wilkins and Staff Sergeant Joyce on a British Mark V tank, France, 1918

    ~

    Thanks for reading!
    Justus Pang, RA

  • A schedule, back at home

    Now that I’m WFH again…I took a moment to schedule my ideal work day.

    After doing a 4×10 schedule at the office for the past five months, I decided to schedule for 9 hour workdays for the return of a five day week at home. The extra work hour gives me a flexible hour (or commute time) on any given day, or a half-day Friday.

    • 5-7: Exercise, Read, Write
    • 7-9: Work (2 hours)
    • 9am Breakfast
    • 10-2: Work (4 hours)
    • 2pm Lunch
    • 3-6: Work (3 hours)
    • 6-9: Kids, Dinner, Music, Draw
    • 9pm Sleep (8 hours)

    Of course there’s no chance it will work as planned — I’m already scheduled for four site visits next week!

    I’m curious if any of this silly, mundane dream of middle life pans out.

  • AI can write what I write, but it can’t be who I am.

    Three disconnected links.

    Tears in the Rain

    Borges on Rewriting a Classic

    Inhabiting the space to (re)create the work — “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote”

    Mixing Bible Stories

    1 Kings 19:11&12 (to Elijah), Exodus 3:14 (to Moses)

    And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.

    And God said, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you.

  • Our House

    To celebrate our 10 year anniversary, I’m sharing this house that has been a part of our marriage for 9 years and 7 months.

    The 1,100 sf house was constructed in 1952 and needed a complete renovation.

    Along with an complete update of the plumbing and electrical systems, the kitchen was rearranged with the former laundry room opened up for interior access and the insertion of a new powder room within the existing footprint.

    Exterior work included a new roof, retrofitting the carport structure, and new concrete flatwork.

    We performed the work as owner, architect, and general contractor overseeing the major trades. We also installed and refinished the interior throughout the house.

    Project Description

    This project was a constant irritant for four years, and we only lived in it for a few months. But it was worth it. We’ve had a great tenant for the last five years, and it set me up for the second phase of my career.

    I had always been an employee without subordinates. This was the first time I managed other people. I suspect the hard won experience in difficult negotiations and contractor conflicts came through in my interview, helping me grab this job and preparing me to be an Owner PM.

    Every architect should remodel their house, once.

    This remodel also taught me to treasure the moment and trust my wife.

    By the time we moved in, she was pregnant with the boy. Once he arrived, we moved back in with her parents so they could help with the kids. Then the girl started school in their neighborhood and we never came back.

    The universe doesn’t care how long you’ve taken to pursue a dream. Maybe you’ll get nothing, but sometimes it will be kind. Be grateful for those moments, however short. We got a Thanksgiving and Christmas in our house.

    Victory is fleeting, and time moves fast. This experience taught me to be picky with my commitments. I learned to focus on activities where I’ve already won by merely doing. (That’s why I’ll never do another house remodel!)

    Remodeling isn’t easy with two architects. I tend to rush, but she would sense something amiss and pause. So we’d stop. And think. And redesign. Again and again.

    Each delay took days, but it kept getting better. Replay this drama a few times and I got the message. If she’s not ready, then I know something is wrong. I learned to trust her instincts.

    I suspect most folks can learn such lessons without a miserable house remodel, but this was our crucible. Here’s to a decade, let’s hope for many more!

  • What Percent Are You?

    I was curious about my lot in life,
    Of course the Wall Street Journal had an answer.

    I started with my current wage.
    Top 6%. Nice!

    Added demographic information.
    “Male, Asian, Gen X, with an Advanced Degree”
    Down to 44%!

    Barely above the median!
    Last year, I joined a Slack channel with Berkeley alums.
    It was obvious that I was the lowest earning member.

    What to make of it?

    Well, I’m damn lucky.
    Even as the underachiever among my peers, I’m doing better than fine.
    A sign that I was born halfway between third base and home plate.

    When I compare myself against the guys on Slack,
    I remind myself of the people building my projects,
    Trading their bodies for an hourly wage.
    I was there too, moving dirt in the Oakland hills,
    But just a short-timer before grabbing a desk job.

    I’m blessed with a good career, with meaningful work that I enjoy.
    A gig that leaves time to hang out with the kids.
    Earning enough, we don’t worry about money.

    Why am I comparing myself against others?
    #Enough is #Winning, everything else is #Vanity.

    #Gratitude

  • Summer, Joe Hisashi, 1999

    In January 2020, the Vegas arts scene was struck with an early tragedy when Alexander Huerta suddenly passed away.

    Given our fears of the incoming pandemic, I skipped his wake, though I left some offerings outside his studio before the world shut down.

    I met Alex in his studio during a First Friday art walk soon after moving to Vegas ten years ago. He was working on a series of collages with old black and white magazine images on a black scratchboard background.

    As an architect, I was struck with the sparseness of the series with its urban perspectives. I lent him an exhibition monograph of black and white collages by Romare Bearden.

    Over the years, I’d deliver old architectural sets to his studio. I was excited to see his work exhibited at the library — some of my drawings had been incorporated into his collages! We enjoyed the occasional chat, where I learned that he used to valet cars at a casino, but taught himself how to paint, rescuing himself from alcoholism with the brush.

    These chats didn’t happen nearly enough, because of the arrivals of my daughter and then her brother. One day, I planned on introducing him to my kids, when they were old enough to understand what it meant, “Here’s a real artist!”

    Then again, the kids see him every day, in two small paintings I picked up from our time together. The best money I’ve spent in Vegas.

    perspective of a black and white collage with the artist in the background.

    February 2020 was a long month, processing the loss and watching the pandemic inexorably work its way towards our shores.

    During that time, I listened to this song on repeat. I was lucky to find something that meshed perfectly with my emotional turmoil.

    In America, Joe Hisaishi is known for his collaborations with Studio Ghibli, but this song isn’t from one of those films. Maybe that’s why it touched my soul. I could imprint this music with my own memories.

    Even though those personal and global tragedies came in winter, I always think of this song when it gets hot.

    The air conditioning kicked on for the first time yesterday.

    Welcome to “Summer”.

    I never reclaimed that book, I should replace my old copy.