basking

"Now" by Clara Fialho"

Clara Fialho is a New York artist who makes magic on a grand scale, this one is 48"x60".
Nothing like starting a studio day with a little sunshine. thanks Clara!

I want to finish off those postcards  on the machine, but first, I have to find it under an avalanche of crapola but I'm not going to let housekeeping deter a little creative time. The other day a friend of ours who organizes estate sales gifted me with a large bag of really fine table linens, mosly vintage damask napkins. "Smallish" I sighed as I started going through them but after the wash and dry it occurred to me that lots of small things seamed together could create a grand grid, a starting place for whatever comes next.

I've been spending an hour or more each morning writing and it feels as if  I have been working my way down inside a nautilus shell, almost claustrophobic with the isolation of the activity. Writers  really can't just hang a work in progress on the design wall for all to have a look at; editing and rewriting are essential steps. It looks like you have to be a little bit crazy to be a writer and if you're not when you start, you probably will be once you get into it. Today I will get out of my own head for a while.

visiting the past

That's my copy of "Art & Fear" acting as backdrop for the first of what promises to be a slew of potato chips, I mean postcards.

There's a stack of books that need reading and re-reading and reams of research material, now that I stumbled across the online archives of the historical society of my first hometown, Armonk, NY.

I spent hours last night trying to find out if the crossing guard had a real heart attack after I threw myself under the oncoming bus (I really did misread her signals) or just a purple fit of fury after she dragged me out from under the front end of the bus, beat my four-year old ass and sent me on my way to school. Such were my days.

I am derailed and under the spell of the past.

postcards

I've been asked to make a fiber art postcard (just one?) and I'm tickled to have a needle and thread task. These are some that I made in past years on the machine.  After working on my series a 4"x6" canvas seems vast.

sun+moon

Well, one out of three ain't to bad for a rainy day. And I lied...this pair was purchased in 2003 after their predecessors (the '96s) finally died.
Once I find a pair of sneakers or shoes that I can actually wear, I'll wear them to death. I am the shame of my shoe shopping friends.
I glued the sole back on one quite successfully yesterday and after cleaning thoroughly decided a footlift was in order. So the Moon goes on my right foot and the Sun on my left.

full moon

I'm not a big fan of the coffee but I love the design of this mug. The white is sort of cut into the black glaze. I added the moon in honor of the day.

And lest ye think that I have abandoned fiber art altogether,  tomorrow will be all about updating the store with new arrivals, shots of the ongoing piece and the astounding overhaul of a pair of sneakers I have been wearing since (drum roll please)  1996.

review

I just could not get into the book but we went to see the American version in theaters now and it was terrific. Fit "horrific" in there too. I made  point of not knowing ahead of time about the film, something I strive for when a so-called blockbuster makes the scene. I went into Avatar all unknowing and was appropriately delighted.

This time I was gob-smacked by the originality of the story and the intensity of the emotions. I have Daniel Craig molded in my head as the rather fierce version of James Bond but in this outing he was a surprisingly tender Tool...and no pun intended.  Warning...this is an ADULT movie and I daresay some adults might be taken aback by some of the scenes.

After a great lunch at Chili's, we rolled through Neiman Marcus and Saks in a fit of handbag lust and I made several really bad perfume try-out choices.  Books a Million had  replacements for my loaned and lost copies of  "Elements of Style"and "Bird by Bird"

early early Sunday

For no apparent reason, I've been up since 3ish and gave up getting back to sleep.Could be the horror issue of Granta I picked up at Barnes and Noble yesterday. Got up and made coffee, wrote for an hour as promised, made bacon in the oven, fed the bewildered cat herd and came back here to share a couple of diamond links.

Fair warning; do not have coffee over the keyboard - you may spew some out your nose laughing, and hit the loo first lest ye pee oneself in hilarity. I did both.  Here and you could substitute the word "artist" for "writer" in most of these items but I won't quibble.

I finally got the tree undressed last night too.

Love and anger @ the Painter's Keys

This recent topic in Robert Genn's Painters Keys came at just the right time for me.

"As yet Unbaptized"

I answered one of my own recent questions "why we do what we do" and they published my response to the article. I was tickled at the image the editors elected to use (my header is a detail from it) and mildly mortified at the title they gave the post (not mine I assure you) "What I did for Love". Jeez Bob. Thanks. I guess.

 Before the holidays I treated myself to a subscription to ART IN AMERICA magazine and after reading the first two issues I've been overwhelmed with the general tone of nihilism and anger that so much of the art conveys.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not looking for puppies, poppies and sunsets - I'm just repelled and bored by endless depictions of mutilations, gore, chaos, mayhem and horror. If I want more of that I'll turn to current pop crap-culture now infested with vampires, zombies and similar escapist nonsense.

All of these genres and their spawn illustrate my ongoing complaint with society in general- the abdication of personal responsibility for one's behavior. None of the heinous acts are anyone's fault because they are afflicted somehow and compelled to act the way they do because of the affliction. No one is responsible for their actions.

I'm convinced that none of the problems of our society will change until people own up to the fact that they constantly indulge their own slightest whims or desires without a thought for the consequences to themselves or anyone else. "I was high. I was drunk. I was a vampire. I was a zombie. I was from the Jersey Shore." Give me an effing break!

 It looks to me as if this magazine and the Art Machine in general is simply pandering to this segment of the population, a segment, I might add, that (despite current economic conditions) seems to be able to indulge in those whims to the tune of thousands of dollars for art that I would bury in someone else's back yard in the dark while wearing a string of garlic.

I can only hope my attitude forever keeps me from being "mainstream" because the mainstream is a polluted sewer.

Ahhh. Feel better?       I do.


PS..HUZZAH  June!

wayfinding

I know you'll pardon the sloth. Now that the detritus is getting up to level of my design wall, it's probably time to do some serious housekeeping.

But the purpose of this shot is to show the progression in the series I've been working on.


Some of the elements in this largest one  bother me and will be changed as the work progresses. 

I missed the morning light window in the studio this morning because I was hunkered down in the still dark bedroom working on the beginnings of a story.

Writing is an entirely different creative process from working with cloth - everything is happening behind your eyes instead of in front of them.

A whole 'nother part of the brain must be engaged and being one hundred percent present in that place is most important. 

There's no mindless stitching  (that I can tell so far) in writing although I did delete as much as I finished up with...akin  to ripping out?

hardbooting the muse

Acrylic paint sure is more expedient than cloth. Knowing when to put on the brakes at speed is an even bigger challenge. I think I like working with oil pastel on canvas better but then, these are small, 8x10 inches.

There's a thirty-six inch canvas gathering dust in the other room that I'll attend to soon. Jim, I may finally use that easel for something other than a craprack.

Yellow Peril

errands

Out and about doing errands today. Beat feet to whatever brick & mortar bookstores are still in your area! All the calendars and day books were on sale at the local Books A Million. The selection is still good and 50% off is very nice indeed. I got a plain, small lined notebook for work stuff, a wall calender and one of those page-a-day ones..

I usually get the Wysocki Cats but this year they creeped me out.  Sorry Mr.W.

dreaming on

I spent some time with the big one this morning. I'm starting the construction stitches phase, small mostly invisible stitches with 12wt sulky cotton to anchor and stabilize the many "tender" pieces of cloth that tend to shift, wander and shred even with the rayon basting which gets picked out as I go.

My mother is the "Rose" and this is a bit of one of the many handkerchiefs that she received as gifts from her customers at the little post office she worked at for 23 years. She gave me a big box of them and they have all gone into the dyepots - linen, silk, fancy and plain - they all loved the color.

party time

Yes, it's party time up in the studio. my three constant companions have joined me for an evening of fun, frolic and phone calls from fools.

Karma carries on in her 16th year on the planet. In her dotage, she has lots of demands and her every whim is indulged...I think she putting one over on us and by me, it's okay. Caviar and ice cream..right away madam.

That black void you see here is Voodoo curled up in a ball on my new chair from Ikea. He continues to work on his Thug routine, menacing all who show any signs of believing his posing. King of the couch, Lord of the Lounge gave us all a bad scare this past fall seemingly cashing in 7 of his nine lives but now fully recovered.

Sweetie has taught me to look down at my feet with every step because she is quite likely to be right there where I was planning to move to.
Although always within arms reach, she'd rather not be fussed with or petted much and will let you know with something sharp when enough is enough.

They never question, never criticize, don't care if I swear,  keep any secrets offered and are great company.