more hand dyes

Awright....I'm going upstairs to iron. It's only 99 degrees, sure, why not. Hey! Gunga Din! over here with that water skin if you please! I want to thank everyone who anted up their two, twenty and 99 cents regarding my photography quandary. Combing through the wisdom I think I've distilled an answer. It's going to involve my Goodman building me a portable hard wall and some cooperation on the part of the weather but the job will get done and the results will be what I have been looking for.

photo frustration

I've just spent the best part of two days shooting and reshooting four of my most recent pieces and I don't know if I'm losing my mind or my overworked and aging little digital camera is losing more than just a step. I hate that I'm feeling animosity towards the pieces as if they cared. This was taken on the design wall in my studio Getting good digital images of textiles is a struggle on a good day but throw anything shiny like metallic thread or paint or damask fabric into the mix and be prepared for hair pulling, crude cursing and lots of sweat.
This one was taken out on the deck with the sun overhead. Part of my problem is not being able to decide if I want the digital image of the work to highlight the basic elements of the design - the shapes, colors, lines and energy of each piece, to speak first and loudest, or do I want the textures of the fabric and the textures created by the stitching to have an equal voice. These decisions come with little or no thought during the design and creation of each piece but conveying these decisions through the digital image is maddening. As if I could afford one, I spent a lot of time rooting about on the web looking for local professional photographers in the metro ATL area and found a disappointing clutch of wedding shooters hell bent on selling that fuzzy dream image which is probably all that most folks remember of their weddings without expensive pictures to remind them. What do other fiber artists do with this problem?

Fruits

Yesterday was an emotional contrast to the day before. I was in a hurry, on fire as usual, to get results. It was hotter & more humid than yesterday, a horsefly was chasing me around the deck and I was hellbent on murdering it. I couldn't even consider picking up the brush and painting so all of these came out of the serendipity of "bagging" each piece with color added as I went along. There was not one disappointment in the entire batch of mystery fabrics. Each piece took and held the dye as if it was born and bred PFD! So the method of one machine washing with HOT water and Dawn plus a 24 hour soak in soda ash solution seems more than adequate. I left this image large so that, if you click on it, you can see the variety of textures from a heavy broadcloth through smooth muslin even to a piece of cheesecloth. Even the table mopper on the top of the heap has promise. I can't feature ironing anything even this early in the day but if I decide to part with any of these they will be ironed and posted over at Hotcakes as the week goes by.

Standing on the Burning Dyedeck..

The mood is light, the sun is hot, the music cool and the pace is much slower and more pensive than my usual frenzy-with-color. I only bagged up three small pieces over the course of the afternoon. Must be the moon. I find myself painting in slow motion without thinking about anything at all. I think I am going to be returning to meditation to even my keel. This is a juicy piece of flannel. Remember, these are all "mystery" cottons from the remnant rack. I scrubbed them as proscribed by the collective wisdom of the QA list but I still won't know anything for sure until later tomorrow.

Hitchhiker

Colin picked up up a hitchhiker in the grocery store parking lot this morning. After much research this beast (that's a nearly 3 inch wingspread!) turns out to be a Royal Walnut Moth...the Royal Walnuts of Georgia to be sure. He/She? is free now somewhere in my backyard. Click on the photo for a closeup!

Road Kill

These are detail shots from the piece in the previous post which is done and about to be sleeved and photographed. The slightly smaller scale of this piece, roughly 30 inches squarish, called out for more stitching to pull the design together so I spent most of two days smoking away with Big J.

Lousy weather=good day in the studio

I started the day early doing my webwork. Sussing out the nitpicking details of transferring a domain and building a splash page for a new client. Because I have become a bit jaded to the Usual Suspects when it comes to deciding on shows to enter, I wavered just a little with a Google search on "call for entries" and came up with one of the comprehensive list of art opportunities I have ever found on the web. If you are at a place in your fiber art career where you no longer get any jazz out of entering quilt shows or maybe, like me, you never belonged there in the first place, here's your chance. Get on over to Artshow and be prepared to lose a few hours if you are the least bit serious about your work. I hate to admit it but I was ready to spend the better part of the day playing manatee out in the pool but one moment the sun was blazing over the rooftop and then next - cloud city complete with thunder, lightning and hours of rain. Oh Damn Well, there's always tomorrow for lolling about and reading a wet Sunday NY Times. So, I hiked up the sarong and let the muted daylight of the studio take me to a slightly different place in my work with the salt dyed damasks. Add to that, some of Joan McGee's silk scraps and a new piece rose up from the flames of an idle day.

Welcome Little Feather

A new Tool has come to join the crew here in my studio. Big J seems skeptical but it won't be long before Feather will be working alongside him. I have craved a Singer Featherweight for many years. My Grandma owned and treasured hers enough to never allow me to touch it - I was a well know "tinker" belle, inclined to de-construct anything mechanical - but she promised it would be mine, someday. After she died, her machine found another home somewhere and I never had the nerve to press the matter. At a recent lunch, a friend and I were talking about our respective sewing machines. (Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the gentlemen at the table leaning back and a glazed expression came over their faces) I mentioned my quest for a reasonably priced Featherweight and dear A. simply said "I will send you mine". Done and done. It arrived yesterday in a flurry of pink packing peanuts and I am smitten and so grateful.

after the crowds go home

We had a BBQ yesterday. Thank goodness one of our guests considers himself a Grillmaster. My idea of barbecuing is when enough smoke comes out from under the lid, it's time to turn things burnt side up, raw side down. Nice folks, too much food, water volley ball and a little thunder and showers. All and all a pleasant change of weekend pace. Company is always a great excuse for a little overdue housekeeping, pre and post party. A Braves game got underway a bit late due to the thunderstorm but once it got started it rolled on to a Turner field record - 17 innings and a badly needed Braves win. Although I missed the first half to hostessing, the cats and I watched the last half of the game right through to the last amazing frame.

Happy 4th of July

My deck garden is starting to make food. These are grape tomatoes which will probably be good for a salad a day for two weeks. The other shot is a green pepper, bell, I think, and a jalapeño which freeze well but may wind up in homemade salsa. I've been thinking about what it takes to "put food up" as my grandmother used to. I used to get to pour the hot wax over the top of the jam and relishes she made. She also put things in Mason jars and boiled them...stewed tomatoes, yucky. Liberty next year would be plowing under my whole front lawn and growing food instead of grass. And now that I think about it, I want a pair of mules and some goats and chickens. Folks are coming by today to grill and eat and swim. It will be nice to have a little company. Tonight I will watch the fireworks from my bed and listen to mariachi music. I can look out across the woods to the next street where, each year, they compete to burn down their houses with illegal fireworks displays.