a distraction

I spent most of the day in the studio yesterday trying to put my feet on the ground and get something going while the Notion of Motion series takes the back burners but I kept looking out the window at the freakish snow. It fell relentlessly all day long but never added up to anything more than a cold headache this morning. It will all be gone by noon. I've been hoarding these pieces of cotton for ages. Some time last summer I folded, stitched, waxed and dyed several pieces and sold all of them except this one. Once I cut the grid apart I was lost. So here is the grid again, reorganized. From here there will be more wax resists and over dyeing. For the moment, I'm just satisfied (for the first time) in the layout. (51"x24")

Something you don't see every day in Georgia

Jim hasn't lost his touch. This snow has not yet amounted to anything much more than pretty frosting even though it's been coming down fat and crazy all day long. There was deep and distant thunder too a few times. The sound reminded me of the noise that the town plows made when they were coming through the park on a winter night. The sounds were glad tidings that meant there would be no school the following morning. Yesterday I had the pleasure of a phone call inviting me to be a vendor at the Norcross Fall Art festival this coming October. I had just finished looking a some old jpegs of the velvet scarves I had for sale at the same festival back in "05 and thinking I might be up for doing it again. Is that serendipity or what?

the Anonymous Experiment....

....was a resounding success. Thank you all. I'm deeply grateful to all those who took the time to comment publicly and email me privately on the current series. I learned a great deal, had some ideas confirmed, scraped some doodoo off my shoes and was given much to think about . I would encourage anyone who keeps a blog and is serious about their art to take a chance on your readership and have an ANONYMOUS COMMENT FESTIVAL. found in a recent fortune cookie "You will be richly rewarded"

time to stop

I know it's time to stop making these pieces when I'm playing Freecell in the last 15 minutes of my shift. Now I have to spend some time going through my existing stash and planning for what materials I'm going to need to bring something like these studies to life full sized. And, Elizabeth! Who said you could be peeking over my shoulder when I am scribbling in my sketchbook? I am also reading a novel with a thrilling description of a horse race. The note says "horse parts lines".

nomo #3

Time to restuff and restock the little ragbag that I take in to the office. Last night I went in there with no pins and no thread, but still got this one was composed flat and rolled tight so things would be in place when I got it to the machine this morning. I've been dreaming about how these are going to be made full sized- the layers, the colors, the stitching - an hoping that over dreaming a piece doesn't do for me what putting it down in a sketchbook does..*poof*

more trial balloons

"notion of motion #2" and now to take my cold for a nap.

kindling

I got an email announcement yesterday that one of my favorite painters, Hollis Heichemer ,would be having a gallery show in NY. I was almost afraid to look at the newest work, sponge brain that I am - it both inspires and baffles me. My problem remains how to create this kind of immediacy and energy with a medium that, at best, is slow as dirt?? Last night at work I fiddled with the notion of motion and came up with this. I had to machine stitch it to keep the scale in order. I'd like to think that this is a tiny study for some much large things to come in the future. And another delightful email - Del Thomas letting me know that she was highlighting "Parking Magik" (2003) on her blog about her quilt collection. It was a treat to see it again as I have misplaced the original digital files. Thanks, Del!

In the Show!

There they are! I have five pieces in the World of Imagination Showopening March 6 at the APW Gallery in Long Island City, NY. It feels good to have something out there where folks beside my cats can look at it. It may look like a cattle call but..MooOOO!...I'm fine with a great, brawling art event.

sea change

The B&W versions were all composed and assembled (if not finished) at the office but last night, as I poked through the scrap bag, the Crayon People took me over and color just had to have it's way. I've been hand stitching on the color one this morning. The sun streams into my studio right over my shoulder, Jinx and I share the sewing chair, enjoy CBS Sunday Morning and a second cup of coffee and lots gets accomplished. I've decided that I'm going to finish these four pieces by mounting them on canvas and then mummifying the fabric with a thick soaking of clear acrylic medium. I've done this before with smaller pieces and I like the outcome. Of course, the hand of the fabric is lost but that's not an issue with this sort of piece anyway.

steeping

For the first time in ages I am dwelling on my work. It's a total luxury to be able to have it with me at all while I'm at the office. I pin the piece up on the wall of my cube and just look at while I'm taking calls and think about what's going on with it. Then, between calls, I can cut, adjust and stitch, slowly. thoughtfully. only this time I'm not thinking all that much about process or technique. With this kind of time on my hands what could be simpler than honoring the grid and attending to good design elements, each one a wayward and willful sheep? I'm thinking about the cloth and the spirits in it as if possessed. The ground, of course, these antique damask tablecloths that I have rescued from rag bags and dyed, are each full of mystery and history. They came to me mostly white but I feel as if the colors that I have given them reflect something of the character of their lives and service. Some are worn through in places, evidence of what? Years of happy Sunday family gatherings? Years of straight laced enslavement to social requirements? Was this tablecloth washed, ironed, folded and fussed over by a young, Irish immigrant girl brought to New England as an indentured servant before the turn of the century? Did this tablecloth cost more than her family could earn in a year? Did her heart ache as she stood back and watched dinner guests spill wine and gravy on it without a thought? The grid elements are refugees too, all snips and bits taken from here and there. The black here is a messy-when-cut expensive linen taken from a pair of designer label slacks that were incredibly a size 2. Not much fabric here. Each piece of cloth I'm handling is speaking to me of it's origin, it's use, it's history. I hope the finished pieces will convey the fabric's wishes as much as my own.