Last Spring I delved into gardening more than I ever had before. I planted all kinds of flowers, trees, herbs, shrubs, and more! It was fantastical to dig in the dirt and care for these plants, watching them bloom and grow and stretch toward the sun.
Then winter came and one by one many of my plants began to whiter or stop giving off blooms. This is obviously upsetting but also a reminder to contemplate the nature of life and death and everything in-between.Ā
However, there is a simple way to help bring that joy of plants and growing into the home through houseplants! Below I have provided some house plants that I personally care for as well as both mundane and magical properties of the plant.Ā Ā
š Devilās Ivy (Pothos)š
Devilās Ivy is one of the easiest plants to care for in the home.
Mundane Properties (Devilās Ivy):
Only water the plant every two weeks (over-watering is the most common way to kill a devilās ivy and under-watering rarely harms the plant).
The plant is toxic to both you and pets. So if you have any familiars lurking about that like to munch on things keep it out of reach!
The plant is easy to propagate and after a while you can have hundreds of them around your home.
If your plant looses a leaf it will never grow back on that part of the stem.
Pothos is fairly slow growing but will live for decades if properly taken care of.
Magical Properties (Devilās Ivy):
Save stems you trim off to be used in binding or banishment spells.
Like most ivy, growth this plant around the walls or floors of your home can protect it.
Can be used in witch jars as a form of poison magic.
š Spider Plantš
Mundane Properties (Spider Plant):
A spider plant is a great addition to every home!
Although all plants will remove toxins from the air, Spider Plants are one of the most effective house plants and achieving this goal.
Over-watering is the leading cause of death for plants at home.
The plant, when happy, sends off shoots that produce babies which can easily be snipped off and potted to create more plants.
This plant is non-toxic and is safe around familiars and people!
They prefer a bright North or East facing window.
Magical Properties (Spider Plant):
Spider Plants can be used in all kinds or protection magic.
The pups can be cut off and placed in a spell jar to filter out bad spiritual energy.
Long stems and leaves of the plant can be tied into a witchās ladder for protection.
Placed on your altar the plant can help equalizes the energy of your altar and tools placed upon it.Ā
š String of Pearlsš
Mundane Properties (String of Pearls):
The String of Pearls can be a difficult plant to get right, however, once you do you will be happy with the beauty it can bring into your home.
This plant requires a fairly consistent temperature (room temperature or a bit warmer is perfect for this girl).
Make sure to place this plant away from any breezes (windows, fans, and vents can cause this plant to stop growing and possibly die).
Only water this plant when the soil is completely dry, take care to ensure the pot you have it in has good drainage.
You may need to work carefully with the String of Pearls to unravel itās many creeping tendrils and prevent it from looking a mess.
It may take a few tries but the String of Pearls is a fairly easy plant to propagate and give to friends.
Fairly fast growing in the right conditions.Ā
Needs very bright light.
Slightly toxic when consumed, some people are also receptive to the juice and sap of the plant.
Magical Properties (String of Pearls):
The fairly fast growing tendrils can be snipped (this does not hurt the plant) and be used in love charms and love magic.
Growing in the home, the plant promotes positive energyĀ and happiness.
Pearls which fall from the plant can be used in divination bags once dried.
When the plant flowers the energy surrounding is perfect to use in all magics wishing to draw something to you.
(Disclaimer: This is by no means a comprehensive guide to each of these plants. Doing research on any plant before attempting to grow it yourself is highly advised. The magical properties of these plants are my own interpretations and you may find different or alternative uses for them.)
I can't stop thinking about the glitter conspiracy. It's been two years and I am Haunted by it.
holy shit now i cannot stop thinking about it.Ā What is this mysterious industry buying glitter in bulk, and what donāt they want us to know? itās on reddit unsolved mysteries, some people think itās used to paint fighter jets. a lot of people are voting itās an ingredient in crest toothpaste
Isnāt it car paint?Ā And theyāre worried that if manly men find out that the depth in car paint is done with glitter theyāll rebel and quit buying it?
Story Time: Get a load of what happened to me at Starbucks today.
Thereās a running joke among people who know me personally that I unwittingly go out in public with a sign on my forehead stating āI Am Non-Threatening. Come Talk To Me.ā Because if thereās a chance a bizarre conversation with a total stranger is going to happen, Iām typically the person it happens to.
Some context: I have been pretty darn sick this week. (Itās not Coronavirus, donāt worry.) Since the work in my queue for my day job is comprised entirely of audio narration right now, and I currently sound like a waterlogged Demi Moore, I havenāt been able to work these last couple of days. As a result, Iāve been using my down time to knock out as much of Manuās redesign as possible. Today, to ensure I didnāt spend the day languishing in sinus misery, I medicated the crap out of myself and took Manu to the Starbucks down the block from my sonās day care.
I hit the bathroom, then picked an empty table, but as soon as I sat down with my venti Comfort Tea and started tweaking the inks on my iPad, I felt the eyes of the man next to me looking over my shoulder.
When I looked up, he had his phone out. āIām sorry,ā he said (in a thick accent I couldnāt place geographically), āI donāt want to disturb. I notice you art. You are artist!ā
I tried to smile. āYes, Iām... Well, Iām trying to be,ā I croaked.
He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret.
āI am artist, too.ā
He stuck out his hand.
I gently took it, grateful for the bathroom trip I just took in which I washed the scourge off of my fingers.
āCan I?ā he asked, holding his phone up.
āTake a picture? Uh... sure,ā I said. Itās not like he would be able to steal Manu out from under me or anything, I figured. The panel I was tweaking was magnified out to Guam.
āI am artist. Architect and Designer,ā he clarified while he steadied his phone over my iPad. āI am Ilker. What is your name?ā
āIām Venessaā I said, trying to be polite. This, I thought warily, is precisely how I get myself into trouble. Iām too damn nice.
āYou know, I come to America twenty years ago from Turkey...ā
I put down my stylus. This was going to be a while.
āI like Turkey,ā he explained. āI like the country and I like the people. But I am artist. I am not... religious man.ā
I nodded.
āI told my wife I was going to go to America and she said, āwhat are you going to do? You donāt have job! You donāt have money! No Visa!ā And I said, āI am artist and architect. I will paint and sell my paintings.
āSo I come to America alone. To New York City. I sit outside, and I paint. And people, they liked my paintings. They bought them. This one for $30, that one for $50.
āOne day, a man comes over to me and he say, āI like your painting. I see you are also architect.ā And he gives me his number and asks me to go to meeting at his office. Because he wants to offer me a job. He starts to talk about a building contract.
āI tell him I donāt know anything about contracts. I have no Visa. I am not American citizen. But he says, āThatās okay. I will take care of everything. You will have nothing to worry about.ā And this man, he gave me a job. $173,000 a year. And my wife, he gave her a job too. She was project assistant. I bring her and my two daughters over from Turkey.ā
āWow,ā I said, not fully believing the veracity of what sounded like a full-on immigration fairy tale.
āHere,ā said Ilker, unlocking his phone and opening up his Facebook app. āI show you my work.ā He paused and looked up at me. āI am interrupting. You donāt mind?ā
At this point, I was invested. I had to see. Because whatever he was about to show me would either prove or disprove this yarn he was spinning. āPlease,ā I said, gesturing for him to go ahead.
He opened his photos and my jaw dropped. His work... was UNREAL.
āThis is building I designed on Madison Ave.... And this one in Chelsea...ā
Holy crap. I had just been to Chelsea with my sister last month on a trip to see a broadway show. I had crossed the intersection of the building he was, at this moment, telling me he designed.
He flipped through more buildings. These, heād designed in Washington, DC. In Bethesda. In Arlington. All beautiful, streamlined, modern structures I had visited and parked my car in front of. He told me he did much of his concept work freehand. That he worked exclusively in natural media. His preferred media was pen, ink, watercolors, and chalks.
Between photos of his wife and daughters, he went on to show me photos from the RUSSIAN EXHIBITION OF HIS ARCHITECTURE ARTWORK.
Yāall, I was stunned. I couldnāt believe the talent I was sitting next to. Scattered among these gloriously rendered images of some of the most beautiful building concepts Iād ever seen were paintings of scenes in Central Park, the National Mall, and nudes from a life-drawing session he attends from time to time.
When he was done flipping through his phone, he looked at me and smiled. āI hope you donāt mind that I interrupt you. I show you all this because what you are doing is very good. And you should be encouraged. To draw is to make beauty.ā
I nodded, a lump in my throat. āThank you,ā I managed. āYour work is astonishing. I donāt even know what to say. What is your name again?ā
He held out his hand once more. āIlker Kocahan,ā he said. āI am getting more coffee. Can I get you one?ā
I looked at my still-full venti cup. āNo thank you. But here, please take my card.ā
He held my dinky business card like Iād handed him a treasure and thanked me.
Then Ilker got his coffee, and left the coffee shop.
At some point in his ramblings he talked about America as a place of dreams. How he credits this country with helping him rise to the top of his field where he is now able to sell his paintings for $800-$1000 a piece now that heās retired. My heart ached to hear him talk about that, knowing how our leadershipās positions on immigrants have taken such a dark and horrifying turn.
Imagine the buildings and museums and public places that would never have been if a business man in the park hadnāt lifted up a Turkish painter who spoke little English.
And now that painter was paying it forward on me.
I still feel pretty darn sick. Iāve still got body aches and a nose that has taken the rest of my face hostage.
But today was a really good day. And I just wanted to share it with you in case you are looking for reasons to keep drawing/painting/dancing/writing. It all counts and it is all good.
If you would like to see Ilker Kocohanās work, please click here.
Ilker Kocahan holds a bachelorās degree in Industrial Design with a minor in architecture from the University of Marmara, Faculty of Fine A
UPDATE TO THIS STORY! I would have posted this sooner, but quarantine has had the unexpected effect of zapping all my alone-time...
As luck would have it, I saw Ilker one last time before my area received the mandate to start social distancing. I came into the Starbucks to work on the āSimon Is On the Groundā comic while waiting to pick up my kid from day care, and there he was, happily chatting with the Starbucks manager, who gifted him with a Starbucks hat while I ordered my tea.
A week had passed since our first meeting, so I wasnāt sure heād recognize me. Lo and behold, as I turned the corner, I caught his eye, and he waved at me. This time, I asked if I might sit with him, and he warmly offered the seat beside him.
While I settled in, he told me that his project was being delayed and that he was going to leave the area and fly home before COVID-19 could make it impossible to travel. The hat was for his wife, whose only understanding of Starbucks was that Ilker really liked the coffee.
As one might expect, we immediately fell into another conversation about art, except this time, I eagerly abandoned my work to hear him talk.
And friends, did I ever get a master class.
He pulled up a painting on his phone which heād sold for $800. It was a life drawing in ink and watercolor of a woman in a demure gesture, barely detailed and colored in but for her rose-tinted lips and the shadow cast across her neck. He said he felt sad that heād sold it because he really loved how it came out.
āThis is no detailed like yours,ā he said, comparing his painting to my panel of Simon and Baz. āMine is simple. But in a few strokes, I can capture the life of the lady.ā
He took his napkin, turned it over, and pulled a pen out of his chest pocket. āLook there,ā he said, pointing to a man sitting a few tables away. He began to scribble away on the napkin, lines and lines and more lines. āYou see,ā he murmured as he ran his pen over the napkin, āI can, with speed, capture the man. I donāt have hours to ask him to sit. I must let go of the planning.ā
In seconds, the man across the room took shape on the napkin in a series of confident if also messy lines. It was incredible to watch.
I could instantly see what he meant. He had not produced a photorealistic version of this person on the napkin. But he had captured the manās essence. The aura of a real person sitting contemplatively with his coffee while reading the Washington Post. I could feel the life of the drawing radiate from the paper.
(When he was done, to my horror, he crumpled up the napkin.)
I shyly mentioned that Iāve been working hard on my own gesture drawing, but had a long way to go, so he asked to see my sketchbook.
I mean... is there even a word in the English language to describe the combination of dread and embarrassment that precedes showing an art master your crap-ass sketchbook that no one sees but you? I didnāt know what to do with myself as he sat there and flipped through the pages.
Eventually, he nodded approvingly and said, āOkay! Is good. But this is sketchbook like every other.ā He gestured at the page. āWhere are you?ā
I was lost for how to respond, but lucky for me, heās a talkative guy seemingly incapable of awkward silences.
āThe world needs to see you in the lines,ā he explained. āSomeone can look at my work and know, āthat painting is from Ilker Kocahan.ā You need to draw more and more so that when people look at your drawings, they will know: this work is Venessaās work.ā Then he shrugged and said, āAnd who knows. I will maybe see you in two years at this Starbucks, and by then, your drawings will be truly yours.ā
Iāve shared this story with some close friends who took mild offense on my behalf at his observations, but I really think it took sitting there watching him draw to understand exactly what he was talking about.
Ilker Kocahan has no imposter syndrome. He is supremely confident in every possible way where his art is concerned. The lines that flowed from his pen were fueled by his soul, not his brain. I didnāt think artists like him existed anymore until I was sitting there looking over his shoulder while he scribbled a man into existence, like it was nothing. When I asked if he plots out the perspective on his building sketches in advance, he shook his head no and doodled this on my cake pop wrapper while he rambled on about the components he likes to include in his architecture concepts:
(Donāt worry. I kept it.)
So when he talked about āfinding meā in my sketches, I really think he could senseāby the light scratch of the pencil, the trace evidence on the paper of my erasing and failed attemptsāmy own lack of confidence, my second guessing and self-doubt. My desire to be as good as other artists instead of my desire to express myself.
And in that sense, everything he was saying about my sketchbook was correct. He urged me to get off the iPad as often as possible. To sketch with ink, which is riskier because you canāt erase it, and in that way, give myself no choice but to commit to the lines.
The conversation turned to lighter things after that. Heās apparently an extremely talented basketball player who loves hanging out with his wife and kids. His daughters are both designers. He thinks quirky viral videos are the best thing about the internet. (I agreed.) Heās weak for New York pizza.
Eventually, he bought me a refill for my tea and asked if I would meet him again in a couple of days so he could talk to me about my artwork and help me with my sketching. He even added me as a Facebook friend. When I left the Starbucks to pick up Colin, I was so excited and overwhelmed and grateful to the universe for bringing me into his acquaintance, I texted everyone in my family about it.
But as fate would have it, that night, the local government released its mandate regarding social distancing. Heās likely in Belarus right now with his wife.
I wonāt lie and say Iām not devastated that I lost the chance to be his student for an afternoon. But the impression these coffee shop chats left on me was profound. I think about it all the time. For one who struggles with feeling like the artist version of Pinocchio waiting around for permission to be a real boy, it makes all the difference in the world to linger in the huge, unstoppable energy of someone who lives without an inner critic.
I hope I get to see him again after the quarantine is over. Iād love to see if I can fulfill Ilkerās prophecy and meet back at that Starbucks in two years with a different sketchbook in tow. One that I can hand over knowing without doubt or trepidation that anyone looking for me in the work need look no further than the bold stroke of my hand.
If itās true that weāre close to artificially recreating dinosaurs I think iād be a lot more comfortable with them starting with bringing back something easy like Dodos instead.
like, hold off on the raptors, letās just get some of those funny lookin dudes waddling around in zoos, yeah?
I was at my college and there was a guy collecting money for a cancer patient fund, and I tried to give him five small pocket knives and a few one dollar bills I had in my pocket. The guy refused the knives, sadly.
I love how irrelevant tumblr is. like no celebrities on here, no colleagues or family on here, no oneās famous off tumblr or making money, tbh no ones even updating the site like is there even any staff? who knows? itās bliss
I kept fucking misreading austrian as australian because its 5 in the morning, and i thought the line was "didnt know the australian pm could boss auatralians around" and that the joke was that australians hate scott morrison
today i hung out w my 15 y/o brothers girlfriend and i jokingly was like ātell me embarrassing stuff about himā and she was like āok. he has a piss kinkā and was 100% serious and i almost crashed the fucking car
my brother making direct eye contact with me across the table at christmas dinner in front of everyone including my grandma: sarah is very popular on tumblr.com. she has very popular posts
Denego Propago @darkthoughtsbrightdays - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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