The 50501s teaser

The rain and clouds never lifted until a brief moment on Friday morning. This was the first time I had a good look at them, and I was pleasantly surprised. 

The extra steps I took in layering the colors paid off unexpectedly.

The entire range of blues turned out to be anemic at best and will be a focus for the next dyefest. There's a workaround that involves batching the blues under a black plastic bag out in the full sun. Poaching is more like it. 

I'll be making more of the B&W, too. 

It's going to be a very busy week for me, so I probably won't get around to posting these until the coming weekend. 

 

When was the last time...

 

...has anyone had the deep need to escape the moment? Apparently, a lot of people!

I'm running a sort of crack dealer sale on my three-book serial, "Prophets Tango". Book one, "Out of Step," is free to download from 'Zon until 4/29.

Over a thousand people have done just that! 

Of course, if they like it and want to find out where the story is headed, they'll just have to fork over a few bucks for "Dancing in the Dark" and "The Light Fantastic".

If you want to know more before you take a bite, here's a fat synopsis that Amazon wouldn't let me use. 

All of this is a great spur to get me back on the path of my favorite cheap thrill, writing. I have two books in the works, both of them far from FIN. 

How cloth feeds memory

 

Forgive the overload of images. It just pleases my eye like a flashy sunrise.

I dragged my heels finishing this bag. Finding just the right shade and texture of denim to make the strap, I cannibalized a never-worn denim jacket. The sleeves never fit me right, but now it's an amazing vest with great pockets outside and in. It will get some interesting embroidery in the future.

This is the right hip, including the front and back pockets - all that was left of Jimmy's jeans. Finishing had a sad finality, but I took my time and chose each element for its capacity to delight me. And I am delighted. 

It's just the right size to hold my Tarot, wallet, a small pad, and a pen. The pockets are deep for keys, change, and a cell. The back pocket will carry and receive messages.

I love that I can look at each scrap and know the provenance. That fish came from a dress that I wore (without a bra!) in the 70s. Those valiant fish.

The feathers were inspired by Jude's Magic Feather project on a piece from an Italian trousseau circa 1940s. I knew the owner of the tablecloth, Ginny A. These things came to me after she died, and her family left so many of her things to be trashed. Boxes of cloth and her memories.

We bought a terrific, gas-guzzling Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station wagon off her. "Bluebird" was our tanklike kid-hauler for many years. We would be at the A&P at the same time, she driving her brand new wagon and hating it, and offering to swap to get the Olds back. 

Bluebird had the good grace to finally croak just about when gas prices had everyone scrambling for foreign cars with less greedy engines, which led me to my first Honda. No turning back. 

The gold critters on the teal background were saved from "Firmament," which I sometimes worked on during Jim's chemo.

The blue cloth came from a beach find on a long-ago OG family vacation near Newport.

It was so ugly when I found it. The babies mentioned in that post are almost 21. One of the twins is nearing the end of his struggle with brain cancer. The family turmoil up there continues.

Real tools hung from that loop sometimes.

I used to come up behind him when he was cooking and slip my hand into that front pocket, and he would say, "Is there something I can help you find, young lady?"

This embellishment came from a dress that I bought at GW back when anything white and tagged 100% cotton came home with me on senior discount day. Most of it went out in scrap bundles. Many of you may even have bits of it. Gauze is so nice to needle. You can push it around like clay. And those tassels!

This was one of the first wild hearts that I embroidered like potato chips in recent history. I still have a clutch of them. 

That glass cross? Acquired at a bead show attended with my friend Jan back when we were still making jewelry. I used to bring my purchases home and dump them into a tub. My bead soup drove some people crazy.

My intention is to load up the Tarot and give readings under my Mayday banners. Still researching for a suitable street corner.

 Tomorrow, I'm making a big banner:

                IMPEACH NOW!

And some day, this little bag will make a perfectly acceptable urn for our ashes to be buried somewhere under a sapling. 

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 a 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"