Dyefest al fresco

Perfect weather for a dyefest. But after a little while I felt like I was working at the gates of hell. I really hope these colors hold up to the rinse & wash. PS - They sure did. "Spankin' Harsh" as the younglins say.

New work in progress

40-something x 60-something. Another Mob scene. This piece is on the design wall now. I'm going to be treating it as whole cloth and don't as yet have any plans for altering it too much ...but I'm just studying on it for now. The design is a continuation of the series I started down in FL. Since I have a good shot of it's Birthday, I thought it would be good to track this one on my WIP section....after a little more progress of course.

Summer has Arrived

You know summer has arrived in Georgia when the kids start saving on haircuts. Now, of course, Jake's hats are all too big.

Look Elizabeth - More Willies!

I've started going through more of the pieces that were started in Florida back in March. It's good that there are pictures around that remind me of them because my studio is in such turmoil that I couldn't find some of these things on purpose if you paid me. I go rummaging through boxes and things keep turning up. And when things get too hot out in the outdoor studio I take the plunge.My oasis has come a long way since this was posted. Actually the water has been so cold that after five minutes you're numb and don't care. Now that I've gotten a lovely rejection email from the Exit Gallery, I'm free to scramble and get slides made in time for Art Quilts at the Lowell.

New Toy

I've been resisting becoming a PODHEAD for too long. For Mother's Day my sons saw to it that I submit like the rest of the civil?zed world. Once stuffed with your favorite sounds, the little Nano sits like a tick down into one of the headphone earcovers. No wires, no worries. The only danger is getting caught singing along.

Night Visitor

This was the frosting on the cake of my Mother's Day. Festivities over, progeny scattered and GoodMan off to work, I settled in for a quiet evening of hand sewing and serious horripilation thanks to Tony Soprano. I knew those peyote buds were a bad idea. Deep in the night come the sounds of feline conflict loud enough to rouse me from my bed to break up the brawl. I flip on the bathroom light to find Voodoo squaring off with this character. Those are MY favorite jeans he's roosting on! I snatched up two of the cats and beat a hasty retreat locking Rocky Raccoon in the bathroom. Now what? I locked the two cats in my studio and went downstairs to rearrange the sofa so the only retreat for the intruder is straight out the cat door at the base of the stairs as you descend from the bedroom floor. All barriers in place, I armed myself ridiculously with a cardboard tube, opened the bathroom door with the intention of getting into the tub and prodding my guest out and downstairs. He had other ideas. He had climbed into the open window and wedged himself between the window and the screen. Talk about ten pounds of crap in a five pound sack! I went over to the window and shut it trapping him place and giving me time to come up with an acceptable solution. Fortunately Rocky was pretending I wasn't there and was meditating on the situation quietly. raccoons can be dangerous when provoked or cornered. He scootched higher up on the screen and I opened the lower window with the intention of releasing the screen allowing him to tumble down the side of the house to the waiting trash cans. He was wedged in there so tight I couldn't pull the latch so I took a kitchen knife and sacrificed the screen slashing it wide so he could make an escape. Just as I closed the window again Jim came home early from work with a toothache. It's now going on 3am. "Just in time!" I told him. He sighed, went to the window and had the strength to pull the latch holding the screen in place. Rocky & torn screen tumbled one story down. End of excitement for all of us for one night. DID I MENTION THIS WAS ALL my fault because I left the back door wide open when I went to bed?

Artquilts:Markings

Thanks to Katherine M. for taking these pictures at the PAQA South show at the Page-Walker Art & History Center in Cary, NC. One of these days I'd like to get to a show and see my stuff in person. Guess I'm going to have to rattle the cage on the fiberart sensibilities here in ATL if I want to see that happen anytime soon. huh. This piece did not have the wavies before it left home. I wonder what goes on in those UPS trucks? And it's nice to see how gallery lighting can emphasize the textures that we strive for by actually quilting the cloth. Oh yeah, that's why I do this stuff.

I'm no Shoe Freak (really)

and it's a rare thing when I turn the page of the New York Sunday Times and spout "OMIGOD, I WANT THOSE!" so I quickly scrambled to the web to find the details. Kork-Ease has one of the swinginest websites I've come across in a long time. Turn up your speakers and put on your dancing shoes! They DO come in my size (!) and in the original heel height, I mean these are cute but a fall from this height and just shoot me. Lessee, Neiman-Marcus, etc. Oh sure-the day I pay $178.00 for a pair of shoes will be the friggin' Rapture. For years I bought a similar style (but flat on the ground) from Rockport and then they discontinued it . Give them about a week to retool. heh, heh, heh.

tagged:::gagged

JLB, I'm afraid I have to be a stinker about playing the game where you post 7 things about yourself. I also have a horror of asking others to play. People who know me will assure you there's nothing shy or retiring about me at all. Perhaps this is a place to try and maintain a civilized front, something I struggle with on a daily basis. All you have to do is look around here and you'll see as much of my private self as I care to hang on a public line. ALSO, when prodded in these directions, my foremost inclination is to make up outrageous shit and lie wildly when the truth is much more bizarre. Then I ask myself "why" on both counts. Here's an old clue .

new business card

Vista Print has made me an offer for new business cards that's pretty hard to refuse so I've put together a new design. My old card with the image below is so old it's hard to imagine that I was deep into a series of tiny hand-stitched pieces all in homage to Mark Rothko like this one, my favorite, "Little Sweetie". Any opinions on the new design before I finally send it to VP are welcome.

some handwork

I've started hand quilting and beading this piece and hope I won't regret it down the road although I've pretty much made up my mind that this one is MINE. The leaves? Dunno. They have started turning up in the studio and I don't know yet what is going to come of them but I like making them and that's always dangerous.

Deadlines..

..have a way of sneaking up on you. Awhile ago I decided to look for mixed media shows to enter instead of strictly quilt venues. When I found TOXIC COLOR" at Exit-a gallery space in Cleveland Ohio, I felt like the organizers had been peeking into my studio. My colors have been on a berserk for some time. Additionally, this gallery has had exhibitions of fiber art in recent history including weaving and collage work. So yesterday morning I discovered that the deadline for entry had about 18 hours to go. Fortunately, this gallery was ready and willing to deal with electronic entries, even electronic payments with PayPal. Five shots for 25.00 dollars was worth the concerted effort of getting this entry page put together before noon. I haven't posted pictures of this piece before and had to come up quickly with the title "Macrophage Cotillion" (hoping I spelled it right). Coming up with titles on short notice is unsettling although I don't think there's a law saying I can't change the title until they get the wallcards printed.

California Cannibalism

Now that title's bound to draw some weird traffic but sadly, that's what's happened out in Benecia, CA in the barn owl box that I watch on the cam (see side bar). When Frieda laid 7 eggs I knew that bad things were going to happen. As the first chicks hatched and grew, the last to hatch got weaker and tastier looking. All I saw was the diminishing headcount. We are down to four. Talk about Survivors! I still haven't recovered from seeing the TX brood go all natural last spring when the Mum checked out a chick that died from the heat and then ate it in one gulp! Nature's way, I know but it's so hard to NOT anthropomorphize the critters. These chicks are a long way from cute but I can't help it.

New look and new sound

I finally caved in and upgraded to the new blogger Minima template. They still let you tinker around under the hood so my blog is not out of danger yet. Y'all are going to have to deal with my new earworm on the sidebar for a while. If I can't get this song out of my head why should you? I can live without the video but it's a package deal. The saving grace is that the young woman in the video is actually his wife. He was on Oprah the other day performing this little ditty and the women in the audience were oozing down the aisles.

WIP

Cleared up the cutlets, packed the crew off to work, turned on the game and had this painted up by the 6th inning. It's good to get back to work a bit each night. I was definitely done hand-sewing on it. Now I have to leave it laying on the kitchen floor overnight to dry . Could be some interesting cat criticisms by morning.

Audrey & Peg

This is my friend Peg and her houseguest Audrey. Peg normally doesn't name her livestock beyond "Leg'O" or "Barbie-Q" but Audrey is going to get to grow up and and experience the joys of motherhood, Peg hopes, including feeding her own lambs and not leaving it to Peg and a bottle!

more new things

Sewing sleeves on two new pieces entitles me to take another new wholecloth dyepainting out of the pile and put it up on the wall for consideration. I may be doing some discharging and/or painting to this one to bring out some value changes but not too much. I sure don't want to screw it up. Another large piece, ummm, 40x58 I think. I do know I'm going to be scrounging to build backs for this set and scrambling for coupons to get a break on more batting. Below is something I started based on the table-mopper that I made down in Florida. Someone in this blogring (help me out here readers) posted about having a craving for some texture not to long ago and I was inspired to dig up a set of spotty looking fabrics and make them dance. The huge Frankenstein hand stitching is because the baseball season has started. Someone's Mum would say "It keeps me finger outta me nose."

New work.

Thanks for the concern Peg. It's probably a lack of FIBER! Finally some progress. This is a crummy picture but I'll have to sleeve it before I can get a good shot outside. I put the pedal to the metal this morning about 7:30 and, with a break for a little yard work, got the stitching finished after the game. Don't know what to call it yet but it's big, 60"x39", and by a miracle of serendipity, the backing fabric is the exact same color as the lavender I dye-painted on the front. I started this at Focus On Fiber last month and have been stalling like mad about finishing it. Why? Didn't want to screw it up. This was the first time I ever sketched out how I wanted the stitching to go before sitting down at the machine.

Once upon a time I had something to say...

From 2005 "In response to Gabrielle's question "What drives you to create....to make art...to show your inner self or just play?" I offer this. The manipulation of light and texture until that silent, inner bell tolls is an act of anticipation that feeds a need for making order of these elements according to the inner eye. The hope that this personal order will have a degree of universal appeal drives one to hold up the finished work and say "Behold - a piece of what makes me unique". This hope is a secondary type of anticipation often tinged with fear. Those lucky, brave or smart enough to skip this second anticipation will reap the best of what a creative drive can give us. Total self-satisfaction." At the moment, the bell is silent, the eye is blind and I have no feelings about it.

While you aren't watching

Voodoo and Jinx are almost the same age having come into our household within a month of each other almost nine years ago. Daily, we have to break up noisy arguments that stem from Voodoo trying to make an impression on the ladies, never mind that he hasn't had the goods to deliver since he was old enough for the operation. THIS is what I came upon last night. I though Jinx was going to ask me for a cigarette.

Road Trip

My brother and his family arrived at a local hotel some time in the night on their way south to Orlando. Today it will be my privilege and delight to escort them to the Jewel of Atlanta - the Georgia Aquarium. I have been dreaming of cuttlefish for days now.

Rant

What ever happened to "sticks and stones..." or "consider the source..." or "whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger"? Whatever became of having some backbone, personal responsibility and dignity? When did we become a nation of whining children curling up with our thumbs stuck in our mouths the first time someone calls us a bad name? The over reaction of those who would take offense at the lippings of a has-been, brain-addled, idiot (have I made my position clear?) radio commentator is as pitiable as the comments that provoked them. His excuse? A lifetime of cultural backwardness barely tempered by the rules and regulations of the FCC. Their excuse? Someone please explain to me how these young warrior women have come this far on life's path without ever having been exposed to the stupidity of bigotry, racism and sexism in the United States of Advertising. Sadly, I don't believe it for a minute. By giving him a moment's notice beyond withering silence they have succumbed to the folly of political correctness. I am sick to death of it. Say what you mean, stand by what you say and suffer the consequences. If you offend, apologize sincerely and learn from your mistake. To the offended I say take dignity in being gracious and for heavens sake, toughen up. Just wait until real life gets a hold of you.

Travelers

I have two pieces to get ready for the PAQA South Markings exhibit so I spent the evening sewing on a sleeve and eyeballing them up close. I kept thinking what a marvelous groove I was in at the time each of those was stitched. Kodamas I started life as a disappointing dye piece which I later discharged with a brush for the first time. There was no room on the table so I did the work flat on the deck and you can see the wood grain. I also discovered not to use a good brush for discharging - I set mine aside and came back to find it eaten up to whiskers. Skin Keeps Us In was a challenge that went on for weeks. The base fabric was an antique cotton damask tablecloth that got caught up in a very strange dye pattern after I had done some metallic freckling with acrylic paint.It was so unstable that once I decided to use it, I had to stabilize it with something and I made the mistake of falling in love with that deep umber hand dye. Not wanting to obscure it completely, I started cutting holes in the damask in the more boring places to let the brown come through. I started adding hand painted, hand dyed and commercial elements from my Favorites basket and soon this thing had hundreds of pins in it just to keep it's shape. Each element was probably moved and re-pinned a dozen times. After a long time I decided to let chaos rule just under the surface. Again, the piece was quilted in a trance to some distant music.

Other People's Cool Stuff (since I'm fresh out)

Here I am hanging out with the Kat Krew feeling sorry for myself and being spectacularly unproductive. It's not good when you Stumble around on the web when you should be doing other stuff unless you come across sites like this one
My fiber work all started with a surplus of used materials and the burning need to make something new from it all.

Opening Day

"PLAY BALL, Already!" I've made the decision to hand quilt that big pieced top I brought back from FOF07. Can't imagine what influenced me....

(click and shop!) I spent the morning ironing and taking pictures of some of the new hand dyed pieces that I did down in Florida. If you decide you want any of these pieces, please email me first to make sure I haven't run wild and chopped up or otherwise mutilated the piece you were craving. I folded them up and put them away but not too far away. heh heh heh...

Peapods From Mars?

Are these not marvelous? They are the cut-off ends of ...I don't know what to call them. Jan Thompson has been working with polymer clay and these conglomerates are the starting place leftovers. There has to be a better name but who cares what to call something this strange and wonderful. They make me think of Karen Kamenetzky's quilts.

Note to Self from Katz

...the raspy voice on the phone said "And don't come home without it." Click.

Feebleminded Shepherd

So here I am once again in charge of a whole flock of headless sheep. That's a poor analogy but the ones that come first reveal the most, I guess. After the dyefest on Saturday I now have at least a dozen starts, some wonderful and clamoring to be worked, others (like this one, 40somethingx60something monster) with their necks in a noose and their feet on a block of ice. Well, that's a bit harsh but you get the picture. I'll be working it first out of guilt - it used to be a beautiful blue/green undersea dream until I brutalized it with discharging. The very first piece I ever sold, "Parking Magik" was so unresponsive and balky at first I very nearly fed it into an industrial shredder at the office one night when I was stymied with the whole thing. That seems to be the way of things. Ugly ducklings really do grow up to be pterodactyls.

Amazing Stuff

Another artist stumbled upon - Hollis Heichemer - these paintings seethe and simmer with incredible energy. I have to find out more. She has been particularly gracious in inviting us into her process with these progress pages.

L'ville Frankenstein Dyeworx '07 debut

I lied. I told myself I was going to let these poach in their own juices overnight but the suspense was killing me. So was the heat. It looks like we are going to dispense with Spring and jump right into Summer. These were pieces of Testfabrics 400M that I soaked in soda ash solution down in Fl last week. I ran out of time and energy down there so I just dried and folded them. This is the first time I have painted directly on the readied fabric, no alginate. After I was finished with each one, I sprayed it good with more soda ash "just in case of what" I won't ever think about again - the washout produced almost zero runoff except a little errant turquoise. Better shots once stuff is dried and ironed.

Focus on Fiber - Fruit #1

I've finally gotten back into the studio, put things away (mostly) and gotten back to work finishing off the things that got such a flying start down in Florida. This piece was a rescue overdye of a few pieces that nearly got made into a rag rug. I mixed up a color I called "Monkey Brown" and got quite carried away with it but once I saw the fabrics drying on the line the elements fell into place without complaint or struggle. For once I am completely at a loss for a title (although "Giraffe Crosses Against the Light" was bandied about in the studio) so I asked Jim. He suggested "SOLD". I am considering it.

Good things happen when you aren't looking

I used this image a long time ago and it still continues to be relevant. Yesterday several friends emailed me to let me know that congrats were in order - I have had two pieces accepted into PAQA South's "Art Quilts - Markings" and later in the day came an invitation to have my work seen by a production company that buys art for set decoration in films! Who knew? That's another phrase that keeps coming out of my mouth these days. Good thing I'm not chewing gum when I cross the street. The latter opportunity fills me with wonder. Have you ever sat and watched a film just to eyeball the paintings and sculptures? Take a fresh look at "Meet Joe Black" (as if Brad Pitt was difficult to look at)- the mansion where most of the movie was shot is full of the most amazing paintings. I can just see my "Sunny Jim" in some chick flick. Well, to quote Judy Tenuta "IT COULD HAPPEN!"

Home At Last

Back from a fabulous week of working as hard as I've ever worked and had a great time at the same time, met a bunch of new terrific people and some great old friends. ...and decided purple hair was a better souvenir than a Bike Week Tramp Stamp. Better pictures tomorrow. Tonight it's laundry, unpacking and SLEEP.

finally some evidence

This is just one of a whole bunch of large pieces that have gotten started on while here. 42x64 inches was causing me grief because I had nothing that large for the back. Then someone reminded me of the "community materials" donated and brought in. After a brief rummage I found an amazing piece of sturdy broadcloth not only large enough but the same exact and crazy shade of lavender you see here. Now for acres of ironing and heatsetting. This piece dye painted with soy wax resist and fabric paint touchup is ongoing.

working my fingers to the bone

...and loving it. Yesterday I worked from cain't see to cain't see and have got some terrific stuff to show for it - of course this is Mac world here and I have no clue how to make this machine cozy up to my camera so I can post some pictures so that will have to wait until I get back. Today I devoted some time to overdyeing some old rejects and bringing them back into play. The accomodations are fine, the food is great. I used to crab about there not being enough hours in the day - now I have to acknowledge that I can't be up and functional 20 hours a day - at least not two days in a row. Ciao for now.

Spring Signs

I'm less than half packed and I'm sitting here wondering how I'm going to spend a week away from my favorite live shows. The Barn Owls of Italy, TX (Mum standing around glumly wondering when her Prince will show up) and The Great Horned Owls of CA (Single, urban Mom struggling to raise three young huns.)

inspiration needed

I have been in a tiz making lists and losing them. Lists of the stuff I want do drag down to Focus On Fiber next week. Much of the frenzy is about avoiding the blank spot between my ears where ideas about art usually hatch. Seems the muse is in rehab with Crow leaving me casting about for eyecandy. Speaking of same, both of these painting are by Joe Tully. The amazing spontaneity and energy of his work is thrilling. If you have a few hours to spend, start wandering through the Saatchi online gallery where I first tripped over this artist and then followed his bread crumbs to another amazing artist's resource site: Artist File Online .

My Crow is in Rehab...

Nothing like a change of subject to help move on. Que Sera, Sera is all I want to say about the previous post. The crow? Something I didn't have enough energy to blog about once I returned from NY. Also, I didn't want to think about it much but since he's going to survive...

 The day before I left to come home it was bitterly cold, something like 10 degrees. I was doing the dishes and heard a commotion at the large bird feeder that dominates the front window. Moments before, a gang of crows were celebrating over a batch of burnt popcorn. As I looked out to see what the disturbance was about, they dispersed skittishly save one. ALL the birds took off except one crow who sat in an odd stance on the snow. "That's not right" I told my dad as I stepped outside for a better look.

The snow was really two inches of ice so I stepped gingerly across it with an old New Englander's bad knees fears roaring in my ears. The crow did not move or mutter. His head was up, eyes open - he seemed in a trance. As I grew closer I saw the blood, dark crimson on his impossibly black feathers and dotting the snow. I bent slowly and encircled his body as best I could with my bare hands.

Crows are huge. Bigger than soup chickens. Nothing, not a peep nor shift of muscle in protest and as I raised him up I saw the gashes around his eye and the one under his beak pulsing, dripping with his steady heartbeat that I could feel like a bomb ticking. He was bleeding to death in my hands. I brought him into to house with my fingers pressed tight over the bleeder that seemed to be counting his life out in a trail of bright splotches through the snow.

My Dad protested feebly but knowing my history with birds in plight he just watched, anxiously concerned over some clutch of germs that crows supposedly carry. "Soap and water, Dad, not to worry." Easy for me to say, I was leaving for GA the next day. After keeping direct pressure on the worst wound for a few minutes and determining that he still had both eyes, I rolled him burrito style in an old dishtowel so he couldn't flutter or walk once, or if, he came to his senses.

 He wasn't unconscious but seemed to be "away" - all of his instincts in abeyance as I handled and tended him. I have no illusions about being a "bird charmer" the most injured birds will still struggle for escape and survival and injure themselves even worse when humans try to intervene. This bird was dying.


 I found an empty diaper box, tucked him in it and set it in the dark and warm laundry room. My hands were covered in gore and I was amazed that I hadn't gotten blood all over my clothes. Checking the web I found that the generous residents Westchester, NY one of the richest counties in the USA, has spent some of it's wealth for a Wildlife rehabilitation organization probably out of desperation as all the critters now routed from their habitat and conflict with the people on a daily basis. I left a quick message and within minutes a woman called me back asking if I could take him to the Somers Animal Hospital just ten minutes away. I quickly agreed but told her "Ma'am, I can't afford open heart surgery on a crow..." she assured me that all the care was provided by vets and staff volunteers. No charge to save a wild life.

Within a few minutes I was lifting the box out of the trunk of the car and Crow was staring angrily out a crack at me seemingly amazed to be where he was as I handed him over to a crew vet techs. This was the same animal hospital where, over thirty years ago, I sat in the waiting room with my then future husband, holding hands in grief while I waited to hear whether my dog, Danny Baily, would live or die. He had been hit by a car and was injured internally. He lived and thrived thanks to the care he received at this place,including a blood transfusion from their resident donor dog named Mountain. Amazing the memories a place will hold.

 Anyway, Crow spent a week in treatment and now is in rehabilitation where he will be assessed for release to the wild. I hope they hold him until the weather warms up a bit. We'll never know for sure why he was attacked but, reading up on it, I found out that crows will attack one of their own if it is weak or injured or acting oddly. Maybe he had the gall to bitch about the popcorn being burnt.

LOST!

(cue Little Richard - SOMEBODY HELP ME!) Remember these earrings I got for Christmas two years ago? They are lost somewhere in my house and I am heartsick, not to mention wallet-appalled. I jokingly called these my bail fund but more important, they were a gift from my GoodMan and in thirty years of marriage I have never lost a gift he has given me. If someone out there has any psychic clues, please be generous. Looking for them has become obsessive. Today I am going to tear apart a California King-sized platform bed on the off chance that they somehow got under it in a place I cannot see or reach. I have run out of logical places to look and it's making me crazier than usual. OK-it's NOT under the bed. My stomach hurts from trying to move the mattress alone but I'm satisfied that nothing I really want was under there. Joyce suggests prayers to St.Anthony. I'm easy, I'll go with whatever voodoo BS gets the job done. Spaghetti sauce & meatballs today in St.Anthony's honor. Tony, help me find my diamonds, Dammit!