Redux

 

I looked it up to make sure that I was using it right. Some words get stretched and overused to the point of deviation. Redux is one of them,

Long-time readers will remember the Magic Invisibility Cloak - my half-cocked approach to a project I should have thought about for more than five minutes. But that was back in the day when I was working a half-witted job (from home, thank goodness) and had eight hours an evening to busy my hands with something that should have taken more than just the other half of my wits.

But it was fun for most of the production. I can look at it now and tell when I was running out of ideas and steam.

Once it was done, I only wore it in public a few times because I didn't have any good answers for people who would accost me in the grocery

store or the post office wanting to know if the circus was in town. "Overkill" was one way of looking at it. 

I was reminded of a time when I was staring at a guy who was trying to look like Alice Cooper - his hair was six inches of black roots, fringed with white and neon green at his shoulders. Church wear these days but, back then, he got all the shock value he was going for. 

I stared at him openly, not judging, but wondering how the heck it was done. He gave back a challenging stare and I said, "Well, you did want people to look at you, right?"    He thought about it for a second, then said, "Yeah. That's what I wanted."  Everyone went away happy.

So back to redux. The cloak hung around the studio much longer than useful so today I dismembered it, preserving the more interesting elements. The ones I didn't rush.

I can look at each piece of cloth and remember its provenance. (sigh). the things we fill our brain wrinkles with.

If anyone is interested in any of these pieces, let me know.

A long season

 

I feel bad about not getting in the water today.

Maybe tomorrow before we get hurricane dregs.

The second shot is so you know how serious he is about me not moving for a few minutes. 

Gathering myself

 

Shirker- updated 8/24

 

Now comes the hard part. Sharing. Keeping my mitts out of the cookie jar. But there's a hella lot of cookies this trip.

I've already indulged my need for some bloody reds, but I had to pack this set out of sight quickly because I could feel my fingers getting sticky.

And I'm running out of names. Going forward, they are going to be fairly obvious. 

That's Claret   (now SOLD!)

This is my thread box six hours later. It was an emotionally stressful day. These helped. An hour of driving with good music. A big glass of lemonade. A nap. Some 🌿. 

Now replaying "Springsteen on Broadway" and shuffling these around. Seeing tomorrow's stuff.

Conjuring colors

There is a line somewhere between production and manifesting. I don't care for either word, one being too "widget" and the other too "woo".  Neither word nor anywhere in between describes my process.

Once I've set the pallette of colors, all my intentions get very flexible. If I get sick of seeing that yellow and that purple, I'll dump one on top of the other and come up with a warm olive that I never planned for. 

Has that blue slipped too cool? Bring on the goldenrod. There's never too much green because I never plan for any.

It's going to take time to process all this cloth and thread. After four days, I am out of personal gas and will take a few days unrelated to dyeing.
 

There's still a ton of cloth to be hand washed and dried.

The best part of Saturday? A surprise visit from Charlie and Jake. We went out to lunch and got caught up. Since they moved, time with them makes the minutes we get more precious. 

Today, r&r includes a little stitch, some reading, pool time, and some walking. Putting those needles in my back to the test. 

Ripe fruit

 

Despite weather reports promising another perfect day for the dye deck, Colin sent this sunrise from the airport where he works. "Red sky in the morning, sailors warning." 

Scientifically, more humidity in the air will affect what I'm planning for the day.

I washed out one piece of lines last night and hung it up with the threads to dry. Just one.

Because there have been requests, I'm going to experiment with selling these pieces whole. See how that flys for a while before I rip or cut them up smaller and blend them into the general basket.

The blue/green threads were hiding in the dryer from the last dye-fest. This wire and mesh contraption, which folds up to take up almost no space in the closet, has become an essential tool. 

I somehow tricked my phone camera into giving me an accurate (to my eye) rendering of the colors in this one.

It's part of a light linen blouse. Most of these will be parts of deconstructed garments. 

This one is 12"x 24".  

High Adventures in August

I used flag-shaped lengths of that midweight linen toweling to cover the table and catch the dye leaking out of skeins and bundles. The famous table moppers. 

BIG LESSON - do NOT wash out the cloth in the machine. As tempting as that is, these will get hand washed in a bucket with Dawn and cold water. One by one.

Tomorrow. 

I'm pacing myself. 

 

The mids of August

 

About four, I ran out of threads and called it Good for the day.

 

Left the mess as was.

I see a very hot field. There was rock music.

Tomorrow* I will dial in the Blues.

*tomorrow being now. Me recovering horizontally from back treatment. Gimme a few hours. I'll do the Blues when it's hottest out.

Dharma

 

Evidence of a life well lived. 

Before dawn, I opened all the upstairs windows and doors to the fresh air. 68 degrees, clear and dry. A gorgeous day in the making. James Lee Burke would write "Aborning". I don't think I've ever seen that word in print beyond his novels. 

The post title set me surfing for meaning and I have never gotten back such a load of conflicting crap. I won't even dwell on it.

At the post office, an elderly (listen to me talk) gentleman from Pakistan proselytized gently while we waited in line. I usually have a "Praise Beelzebub" for such conversations, but he was doing his thing and I let him roll on without dishing any snark. He was there for a passport picture.  I advised him. "Don't smile."

Business accomplished, I met a friend for lunch and we cackled and rattled our scaly claws over the indictments. Naming the prosecutors one by one. Cackling some more. 

Came home to a smorgasbord of sense delights. My garden, run wild with some alien-looking weeds. Cicadas tuning up. The big Joro spiders webbing up the windows again. Sleeping cats. 

And a fat package on the doorstep.

I am so in love with these colors. Imagining what they will do dancing together!

 

This is going to be a very special dyefest. 

dynamite

dragon fruit

bright yellow

marigold

blue violet

houdini blue

peacock

but right now, the Braves are still in NY slaying them.  I listen to the game on an AM radio station. The closest thing to time travel I know of. 

More scrapping

Let me preface this post with a statement: 

Yee haw! Fani Willis! Ride that mangy mango down! 

I had a pneumonia shot yesterday morning and slept blissfully when the indictments broke the news. The world keeps spinning, hopefully leaving that turd to dry up and blow away. But the lessons? Never.

Orders packed and off to the post office later. I anticipate walking into the lobby (usually relatively empty late Tuesdays) and cackling loudly knowing most of the counter staff will join me.

I dug through my personal stash and liberated a lot of cloth into the general fund. Think of how all of our days add up to so much making time! One by one, not so much, but as a group? Amazing. 

That little snitch of green? Silk or rayon, I can't be sure without a burn test.

While I was working, the pieces in the last photo got chummy and asked to be transferred to the River Basket. 

I'm easy.