Cast a dark eye

 Another of Colin's shots from the ramp at Briscoe Field. I thought to correct the color for a moment, but decided to leave it as he shot it. It perfectly captures my mood for the entire day. Flexing between fear, not for myself, but for others, and the rage of the impotence of age. 

When I read about the Worm's quest to establish a federal registry for autistic people I took up a search for "nazi doctor atrocities". Not a great thing to do before coffee.

In seconds, the most comprehensive result came from Wikipedia. Aktion T4 is what this entire administration, his entire cult, wants. If you are in any way not their ideal, you should be deleted. Please spread that link far and wide. I am nobody.

Autism is his smokescreen. Down syndrome, any mental illness, or any chronic illness. Let's not forget biological ancestry. He proposes accessing personal medical records for the betterment of the human race. Look up eugenics while you're at it. 

I'm going to be on a street somewhere on May 1.  And if you support the trump regime in any way, fuck off and die.

After the weather passed, the linen tablemoppers had a lot to say.

The threads are a mixed lot, as always. I was disappointed in the turquoise and will have to do some research as this has become a pattern. It's not the dye, I hope.

I think it's more about the ambient temperatures. 

It might have been hot out there for me, but not for the blues, so there will be some over dying before I let any of them go.

I love the unironed texture and drape of these linens. It might be that the model for the Statue of Liberty was wearing a linen gown. A cloth of substance.

The colors were as expected, a byproduct of the thread dyeing process. Haphazard and random, both pieces have lots of white space still. Room to glow.

 

I'm going to get Charlie from school tomorrow. First stop, La Michoacana for ice cream. I will try very hard to keep this ugliness away from both of us. I'm grateful to Jake and Missy for keeping the news out of their family life. For twenty-four hours, I will listen to music, check on the potato plants, and bird nests on the porch. I will also be filled in on the latest from Hogwarts.

naming a dyefest

 

I'm fresh out of clever.  The 50501 threads will do well enough. 

Today, I'm tired and a little sad about Pope Francis. There's a tough job nobody wants. I've watched the film "The Two Popes" several times, and more recently, "Conclave". Both fascinate me. The only Catholics I know are ex-Catholics, except for the lunatic trumper down the block. 

Jim saw the Church from the inside out and shed it like a badly fitting skin long before we met. Still, his dog tags read Catholic, and I made sure he had legit last rites. He lived more righteous life than most. 

When I was young, I thought corrupting nice Catholic boys was a lark. Back then, I didn't know how corrupt they already were. 

 I'm convinced that, after meeting with Vance and knowing him for the hypocritical liar that he is, Francis may have decided that he could do more for humanity from the other side with a little judiciously applied Karma. India is rife with fanatics of every stripe. Go Kali!

It's turned gray and cold here. I keep thinking it's Sunday.

The threads are in. Hand washing, rinsing, and drying will take days. I'll update the store over the weekend. Maybe.

I'm leaving the table moppers and carrier cloths outside in the rain for a few days. Taking the cure, they will.

It's finally raining.

I brought these in last night. 

Washed and dried, they are beautiful with those tiny flashes of color here and there. 

There are only eight, but I think I'll make more with an eye toward a lighter touch.

Lift the baton

 Here it is. The whole enchilada, minus the outcomes, of course. I don't want to be found dead, face down, in a pile of salty threads. Even with the umbrella back up (thanks, Colin) it was mid-80s out there.

I started by pacing myself, slowing down, and considering each move. I was flagrant with the dye powder because bold was what I was after. And cleaning up as I went. This part happens at the kitchen table.


Outside, I committed one of the linen sheets to be the first table mopper of the season. I put the threads in the soda ash bath before I started mixing colors. Measured the soda ash. Don't know whose gospel, but I used a full cup to a gallon of water.

I really like the new China steel bowl for this purpose. 

The usual suspects were lined up and ready to go. If you zoom in, you can see I even labeled the containers with the colors. Not like I measured, but still...

This part of the table mopper would be the front bodice of the shift I'm planning to make. Halfway through the session, I rearranged it for more even coverage.

I'm really pleased with the new black from ProChem. It's very well balanced. If you zoom in you can see all the colors that make up black.

I'm not sure about these. I don't usually control the colors this tightly, but in keeping with slowing my charge to a stroll, I made quite a few skeins with three or more colors.

Early on, I got carried away with the hot colors. I always do. But this time, I think I struck a better balance. The range of blues is very pleasing.

These are some of the carrier cloths. I put them on the table mopper so it doesn't get too wet and overcooked with color in one spot. I work on eight or ten skeins at a time, then roll the scraps up to let them poach.

Everything is going to stay out there for the night. I'll take up the rinse and dry tomorrow. Right now, there's a 50% chance of rain. If the rain moves in tonight, that much less rinsing for me.

4/19

Dyefest has been postponed so I can be of wider use to bigger problems. I keep forgetting that I'm not locked into the weekends.

Friday morning, I woke up to this thrilling read from Heather Cox Richardson. 

Two people I invited to my front lawn "Hands Off" action requested the second banner. Both of them are big and easily read from passing cars. A good use of cloth that had been buried in a basket for sheer ugliness. 

This one is heavy linen, almost canvas. The acrylic paint is there to stay. I may do some stitching on this one. The other was gifted away.

I didn't take pictures from across the street because I didn't want to reveal anyone's identity. Real concerns these days.

We sat in the lawn chairs, had lunch, and waved to the occasional cars, getting mostly supportive responses. Nobody flipped us off or got out to counter these sentiments. 

For a beautiful day, there were fewer walkers than usual, but then it was hot out by one even though we were in the shade.

The cat crew supervised the setup until the guests arrived with a very well-behaved pup who enjoyed the bird bath and kept the cats glowering from beneath the parked cars for the duration.

With regards to HCR's telling of Paul Revere's ride, I had to mention this memorial to Sybil Luddington, who at sixteen is reported to have ridden through Putnam County NY, to raise the same warnings. This incredible statue is in the heart of our hometown in Carmel, NY.

Recently, I've started reading about some scholars throwing shade on this story due to "lack of evidence". 

It's no shock to me that the heroic efforts of a sixteen-year-old girl would be looked at askance in her time and presently. That she never talked it up herself would be a sign of her times as well.

Fuck the patriarchy, then and now.

Snowblind & dazzled

 

Laundered my favorite sheets today, treating myself to a nice fresh bed. I've decided that microfiber is only good in the wintertime. Cotton rules my nights.

But these are a pair of linen top sheets from Cuddledown. I'm keeping the twin fitted sheets for the guest bedroom. These are going to become wearables. Thank you, J. If you find any more like these, let me know.

I spent some time measuring me, measuring the tablecloth gown I made last summer, and measuring these beauties. 

There's enough cloth to make four comfy sleep shifts that might get some color. Now that I think about it, one of these should become a tablemopper.

There is an assortment of cusspot bugs (that's an enhancement) that will get some color and I'm still winding thread.

I have to take care not to bite off more than I can chew, workwise. It's not like Sunday will be given over to any churching, and there are plans for HANDS OFF Saturday afternoon. 

 I never bought into Easter beyond the colored eggs and candy. Jim and I didn't want to foster the candy thing beyond a chocolate bunny because sugar was rocket fuel for both my kids. So Easter became a sort of Christmas lite with small toys in the baskets instead of candy. It got expensive as they got older. 

I went to the international farmers market looking for a small, tabletop burner and came away with this dazzling bowl. They had no small burners, but for 9.99, I couldn't leave this behind.

A good-sized tomcat and an Oreo for scale.

I feel quite subversive buying something made in a country that is laughing at the immature antics of the shitweasel in charge. I would not have been able to countenance paying 25$ for this. That's where the price is headed. 

I've always thought of goods from China as basically Crap I Can Live Without. Time will tell about that too.

something for focus

 

I remembered what the soy wax was for!

I love the organic, amorphous outcome of using a practically invisible resist on white fabric. My shapes and rhythms come through every time. It's how I move my body and hands. Everyone trying this technique will get results unique to themselves.

There's no burner outside anymore. Last year, after many years of faithful service, our old monster of a gas grill was carted off for scrap, but the farmers market near us sells small tableside burners and other cool things intended for cooking, but translate perfectly to art making. I'll show you my haul later.

I have to rummage in the fabric closet to see if there is any more of this heavy linen. I didn't like it when I first acquired it. Coarse, nubby, heavy - nearly canvas - nothing I wanted to stitch on or appliqué with. Times change. 

Nearly canvas. As in paintings. Sometimes stitch doesn't apply.

Somehow, my taste in cloth has shifted. I want strength. Substance. Durability. Don't we all?

Good news, bad news. There is no more...in the closet. 

But, it's not the vintage Italian linen, that narrow stuff. I found one piece of that and compared it to the one above. Same wonderful drape-y-ness, but the red piece is wider and contemporary, so it's IL019 from fabrics-store.com. Still have the good stuff.

an expansive day

Woken from deep sleep by the kind of dream that makes you say, "Where did that come from?" and grin. 

Peel off my spirit and dance around waving in the air overhead because I found out that I have until 5/1 to file the taxes. Hozzanuh!

I'll get on it tomorrow. 

Task-wise, I've been creeping up on it, removing clutter from the desk where I know I left all the necessary paperwork. 

Finishing up from yesterday, I rescued this piece from wandering around loose in the trunk of my car. It smelled. There were stains of unknown origin, so I tossed it into the washer with the rest of the weird stuff: cloth shopping totes, crocheted potholders, kitchen towels. You know - not clothes. 

It came out fine. I'll look again closely when it's fully dry. 

I missed the good shot. The soapy spew in the carwash started out looking like I lost an eggfight with the east bunny. I spent a sunny hour vacuuming and window washing. Jack Flash hasn't been this clean since I got him. 

The carpet got some long overdue suckage. pollen and cathair galore! There was regular laundry. 

What's provoked this burst of energy? The final wrap-up of the worst of this cold. It's dragging its feet, but I'm feeling much better.

After some very strange retail therapy. 

(More on that, if anything comes of it.) and indulging in a bowl of ziti and meatballs awash in my homegrown sauce. 

Homegrown. That's gonna resonate.

    I'm Garcia Spartacus, motherfucker. Not this time.

And digging deeply into the threadbox. Splitting six to two. 

Where to go and when to stop.

It's a very different emotional return than I'm accustomed to with line and fills. Rocks between "Ick" and "Oooo"

If you have access to Kanopy and a library card, look for a documentary called

"John Singer Sargent: Fashion & Swagger"

 

The basics and planning

Last year, it was off-the-wall weird stuff. There's plenty of that left to mess around with. This year, I restocked the basics plus a few new things. 

That Admiral Blue needs help. I will fiddle with it. It was on sale.

The Bronze seems to have been reformulated, and I'm excited about it. 

The unfortunately named Tie Dye Black appears (on paper) remarkably neutral with neither a green nor blueish cast.

There's a two-pound bag of soy-wax pellets in the box, and I have to think about why I ordered them. 

There'll be no new table top as we no longer have a truck. I stood there in the lumber section trying to figure out how an entire sheet of half-inch plywood could be sectioned to fit into the trunk of my Honda Accord. Not and have any structural integrity. Instead, I bought a heavy vinyl cover to staple over the old, deteriorated wood. 

The tent will go up only for the duration of the event. Don't want to lose this one to any pop-up thunderstorms. 

I'll have running water on the deck for the first time in ages! Since the main water pressure valve was replaced, I can run a garden hose without fear of it exploding. The showers are meh now, but the hot water heater may last a few more years. 

NO CLOTH goes in the washer or dryer ever again. It's all hand and foot work. A sight to behold. And this year, I'm going to have both feet in technicolor and will be selling glimpses on that foot-porn website. Just kidding...maybe.

A return

 

It's good to be home. As much as I love spending time with Charlie, time away from my life reminds me that I've got shit going on that needs attention.

It's very chilly here, but the promise is a return to the 80's for the coming weekend. 

Prep for the first dyefest of the season is ON. 

~~What colors are you feeling? 

I need some strong, emphatic color statements right now. My thread box is looking anemic.

Yes, Dee, rust, burgundy, and teal. And there will be more b&w textures. 

Suggestions are always welcome.

The cat posse is working hard to forgive my absence. Everyone wants to smell the baby cat. Somebody peed on my sandals last night. I have my suspicions. 

And will you look at that wrinkled paw!

 

I knew that I wouldn't be using stitched lines with this piece. There is too much going on, and the fabric itself is fragile. 

This "seeding" seems to be the answer to securing and enhancing the elements of the design. 

This piece has the tenuous feel of works that have, in the past, teetered on the brink of failure or success. Only time will tell, and I'm in no hurry to find out. 

Composing

 

This is the part I like the best. Round up a bundle of likely suspects. There will be a commonality I can't quite put my finger on while snatching them out of the baskets and boxes. 

Then I'll take them someplace out of character - out of the studio is a biggie. Different place, different light, different eyes.

Then the interviews begin. Shapes, colors, textures. Things that cozy up. Others rebel. 

I start to lay things out on a base without knowing why. Flying blind and under the influence.

I had an hour to pass while Charlie had math tutoring.

A shady, quiet corner of the parking lot. Good music on the box.

Things fell or were pushed into place. Moved, torn, divided, and replaced.

There were pins. Many pins.

My pins are loud, yellow-headed devils that are very distracting. 

Then comes the hopscotch basting. Half-inch stitches with a single strand of turquoise rayon. Easy to snip and replace if needed.

This was presented with coffee.

There were onlookers galore.

And once the day warmed up (it only scratched the mid sixties here today) I took the project outside.

Neighbors came to gawk.

Not the finale. Tomorrow, I'll take it all back outside. There will be changes.