nest material

The OG cusspot was crafted when I was still working in the whine mine, in person. I remember being so satisfied with the shape and the speed at which it manifested. It's been hard at work in the traveling stitch bag for all these years catching the stuff I stopped throwing on the floor when I found bits of string in some cat hurk. I still don't know which hairy fool was dumb enough to swallow thread. 

This morning, it was so full I had to decant it. Amazing how much was crammed in there. Later I'll take it up to the grove and hang chunks in the crape myrtles for the birds to take as nesting material. 

Before I hear from any ornithological experts, there is no piece of thread longer than two inches, so no bluebirds will be garroting one another. I am that cheap. 

 

The deck is a mess, but the thyme, lavender and the dumpster rose bush made it through the winter.

Inventory

Some keep calendars. Some journal. This is the place&time marker that I look forward to each year. 

Instead of keeping this somewhere I can refer to it (as if) I'm going to cut out the samples and tape them to the outside of the jars. The names don't do a good job of conveying what's in those little pots of dust~

  

~ speaking of dust, I just made the mistake of sneezing in the vicinity of the open container of Raven. I'm only grateful I had my glasses on. I had to start this over as the whole sheet was contaminated with particles of dye. Cleaned my face, blew my nose, and brushed my teeth again. I'm afraid to look in the mirror~

I rarely use colors straight from the can, but I need to keep in mind:

 

BRONZE, BUTTERSCOTCH, AVOCADO and ROBINs EGG. How their voices are clear and strong. 

And that RAVEN can whisper.  

And Tangerine, Marigold, Golden & Bright Yellow can easily stand alone. 

There was also a pillowcase half full of undyed cloth and three yards of garment-weight linen landed on the doorstep. 

 

Signs (updated)

      🐲 Yes, the Dirty Threads & Hot Scraps Page is missing~

                                                        ~Will be until Summer checks in. 🐲

 Crazy, but true. I'm putting this and all stitching projects on hold until I can make more threads. I realized this morning that a big part of the slowdown is me staring at what's left of the stash and not finding what the piece needs at any given moment. I don't want to settle, so, a pause. 

Something I've noticed. I need a wider range of VALUES no matter what the hue. 

Does anybody have any strange questions regarding my process? I'm starting to put together a tutorial. 

Do I really have to do a history?       (Why not, lazy bitch. Maybe you won't forget something important.)

Right here I have to remember that Less is Often More.

                                    According to the editing team, I have a lot of other things to do.

Organically slow

 Why is it that the smallest hurts take longer to heal as we age? 

I did some lefting for a few hours here and there. My thumb is better. But placing and drawing needle and thread with your non-dominant hand does things to the brain. Found myself on some unexpected and revelatory thought trains. A mini acid trip. Spring (mental) cleaning. 

I remain a NYer at heart not trusting March for much. Here, I may still have a jump on some gardening. I have weeds and seeds and hope. 

(I forgot about the music. That's some sexy shit, eh?   "Night Lights" by Gerry Mulligan, 1961)

~caesura~

 

 

Just when I'm finding a rhythm outside the heaat space/shape, I tore my right thumbnail to the quick and cannot hold a needle. Typing reverts to hunt and peck.

So, a few days away. There are many other things. 

I found the perfect ampersand and the title of my next book. 

Maybe it will be stitched.

Note the changes in the pages bar. Scraps and threads are sold out for now. 

Bridge

 

Apologies up front to songwriter Amanda Mcbroom and Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp.

I don't know if stitching words on a pillow that will never leave your home means you owe someone something. 

How close is it to singing in the shower?

So here, as visual, only fractions of the whole. It's my font and stitch that I'm keeping my fingers on. Remembering to loosen up a bit. 

On cloth and on paper.

This project is taking on a life of its own.

New and Old

We scoured the yard for windfall sticks until I ran out of gas (pretty quickly). The wind was kicking up and I mentioned that it was good kite-flying weather. Charlie quickly produced a kite that had to be hatched out of its packaging and assembled. It flew! We got about fifteen minutes of launching and flying before the wind decided enough was enough. 

I wanted to stay outside and absorb a little more vitamin D so Charlie went inside for tools and quickly taught me how to lose at tic tac toe. Who knew the Corner Strategy?

I responded with my favorite, trapped at a desk time waster, the Knight's Move number maze. I drew him a ten by ten grid, explained the rules,  and he was off to the races with a vengeance! I can't remember seeing him so focused. 

Later the same day, he broke out his tablet and headphones and dove into his first audiobook. He was trying to work the puzzle at the same time as he was listening to Diary of a Wimpy Kid. It was a toss up, but you could have set his hair on fire and he might not have noticed. It was wonderful to behold so much focus on something that was not hand-held and full of batteries.

 An old friend reached out and we spent our quarterly hour and change on the phone catching up. She reminded me about a piece that she once admired. I knew exactly where to put my hands on it for a change. Dug it out of a pile of mostly finished what-nots and made sure it was worthy and ready. It is.

Also yesterday, the family in NY gathered to celebrate our Dad's birthday. Pop worked and drank at the Blazer Pub where he is still fondly remembered. I wish I could have been there.  

Again yesterday, an old friend let it be known that her husband had passed away. We had lost touch over the years. Just a click away, yet....

Connections. I think the ease of digital communication is overated. Too tenuous. 

fine focus

 

.

Carving out the internal shapes with color is intoxicating. The base is 40's era service weight linen. My name for it. Loomed at 27 inches wide. The thread count is tight. Mistakes will slap the eye so best to slow down and place the needle rather than stab with it. It's hard to resist the "punk, punk, punk". 

A drawing from my ancient history. In the inside cover of one of those little pink and black test prep books. Copied to tracing and graph paper and enlarged many times. Kept all these years and many iterations. 

It had to be my third year taking the course. The was something on the board, a bunch of lines and arrows. I was listening intently. My flare pen was on autopilot. 

 I believe the 66 I got on the final was a mercy grade. 

How have I not watched Vanilla Sky before now?

Practice

I finished this today. All the lines anyway. Still thinking about what could or should be happening in the interior spaces. 

Or not. To keep up the point of the line, there may be some text. 

There is a disturbance in my force. Yesterday, three different shows or movies featured people in extremely tight spaces. Each time I had to look away within seconds and change the channel. Somehow I bit my tongue. 

Probably spared myself a lot of nonsense. Instead, I rewatched the Deadwood movie and got a masterclass in applying flashbacks. The Usual Suspects instructed pacing and dialogue. 

And rereading one of my own early chapters reminded me to Let It Fly. 

I'm really disappointed with True North. 

Discussion?

There is springtime cattitude around here.

 

Tides turn

It had to happen because I do it every year. When the thread inventory goes dormant, I have a little ritual called Rescuing the Mutts. 

I've come to realize that the images of the hanks of thread are not as visually appealing as those hanks wound onto the cardboard bobbins. Even I prefer looking at those little squared-off bobbins, but the final wind-off was time-consuming, physically detrimental, and very expensive. 

So, to everyone who didn't take an immediate shine to these Leftover Souls, these Mutts...my stash thanks you!

And THIS COLOR is haunting me. 

A deep teal blue trying to sneak up on navy when no one is looking. Even this one is a shade too cool. But I have been seeing a version of it popping off the screen for a while now. Maybe it's my eyes?

In the recent remake of Perry Mason, set in LA during the Depression, it's in almost every frame. The vestments of a quack faith healer, hats, earrings, tiny little details everywhere. In The Kings Garden (Alan Rickman's last film) it was the Royal color, never mentioned always visible. 

Look for it. You'll see what I'm talking about. There is some kind of psychological hook in play here. 

 

As I wound these I was thinking about the course I'm planning. Teaching the Dirty Thread Boogie. 

Why did I call them "dirty" in the first place? Mostly because I work outside on the same wooden table where I do my houseplant cleanup and repotting, with very little of the cleanup factor. 

The deck is uncovered, opened to the sky, the woods, and runoff from the roof. Tree trash is delivered daily, free of charge. All my tools are out there as well. Moldy and mossy. And when I'm slinging dyes things get dirty. 

In the first picture up top, that flash of green in the red and gold? Dirty gloves.

This pinch of brown and lavender? I don't change gloves when I'm flipping the skeins over. Color transfer is inevitable. Desirable even.

The Circle Casting project is on a brief hold while I wait for transfer paper to be delivered. 

In the meantime, another piece of ancient art history was unearthed and slated to be stitched in full color. The original was done inside the back cover of Introduction to Geometry which I failed three times. Small wonder. This version is 8x24 inches.