dyefest dreams

Two consecutive days of sunshine and I'm dreaming in color.

I was also in the studio packing up some orders and had a hard time finding any purples or browns.



The raw materials have dwindled.
I'll have to do an inventory and 

see what's on sale at  my sources.



If anyone has any worn, holey or raggedy cotton or linen tablecloths, etc. that you were going to dump, get in touch!

I'm feeling the need for blue/gold/green fingers and feet even though dye season is months away.

I want to be ready when the first string of days of 75+ degree weather is on us.

A book review and giveaway!

   "Poole's Paradise”            by John Vorhaus - 

In keeping with my promise to self to spend as much time reading as writing (liar!) I'm going to be reviewing the books here from time to time. After a year of heavy duty personal tests, all I want from my entertainment lately, is, well, entertainment. 

I'm happy to report that John Vorhaus delivers big time with “Poole's Paradise”.

Set in a New England college town in the mid-seventies, young Alexander Poole has already twigged to the hard truth that the world does not revolve around him and he's okay with it, ready to take in what life has to teach. 

To label this a coming of age story would be missing a bet. I promise you'll be rewarded with some unexpected wisdom. You know, the things that make you go “Hmmm.”

Alex is looking for answers, and his place in this world, as many of us were, in a time when the only way to get the True Truth was to interact with people face to face, ask questions and weigh the answers; take chances, have adventures and deal with the consequences of your actions in real time. Flesh and blood! No Google, no Wikipedia, no texting. Hell, pay-phones were few and far between.

I'm willing to bet that the vast majority of my readers had their college experiences in the late sixties to mid seventies. If you kept sufficient brain cells intact and memory persists, mean existence will fall away as you slip in to “Poole's Paradise” and you will recall how fraught with double edged delights those years actually were. I could almost be sad for young people today. Almost.

Yes, yes, there's sex, drugs and rock and roll and a class or two, here and there, but all in (usually) well considered measures and all to a purpose. Not only does the author pin the times, places and people to the wall perfectly, he gets the social mindset (or lack thereof) right on. He does it all justice and then some, working our language like a circus ringmaster works lions and tigers.

I hope Vorhaus gets to write the screenplay when the time comes. I laughed out loud in many places and was kept turning pages when I should have been trying to get some sleep. Who needs to sleep when you are time traveling?

Hey, don't take my word for it. I just now read a fistful of great reviews. Let the casting begin!

If you are at all interested  email me and I'll eventually have Sweetie pick a random winner and I'll send you my spare copy of “Poole's Paradise”. You'll just have to live with fact that it's inscribed by the author to yours truly which is another tale itself.

PS. I immediately indulged myself with my first electronic read, 

“Lucy in the Sky” - also by John Vorhaus. Set a few years further back in time than Poole's Paradise, when we were all pretty much in the dark about what came next in life. Big questions, big answers all delivered with his signature whip cracking language at a pace that never lets up. Wonder is a watchword. 

Loved the book but hated the e-reading experience. Call me a Luddite, but I'll suffer the wait for the paper editions from now on.

Sight & Sound

Something very new from the other Creative under the roof, Colin Lacativa.

The music will be available at here at midnight tomorrow.

still seeking truth

I popped my head into the studio this morning just as the sun came over the ridge. So cold in there I could see my breath.

I may drag the heater in there and futz around later on. After cooking and cleaning and maybe a walk and most certainly, a nap.

Arlee Barr picked me to carry on this Art Chain thing on FB. I really can't imagine doing it for five days. I rummaged around in my image files and found some good images of somewhat recent work, if 2012 can be considered recent. Still, I needed to look at the real things I used to make.

While in here, I took a hard look at a piece that's been hanging on the small design wall since it was stuck to the canvas in 2010.

"Firefly Cotillion" even made it to the front of my business cards that year. A pretty good representation of what I was up to at the time.

I studied it for a while and started thinking about how all these little elements seemed to running around inside their life looking for something.

 Not lost or desperate, but purposeful, like they knew they'd find it eventually, if they just kept at it. Little seekers.

Without looking things over, I think it's a theme that runs through my work still.

 details from "Firefly Cotillion"

someday I'll finish this

I pulled "Firmament" from the chaos of the studio and added it back to the river basket. If I can do nothing else, I can make french knots with gold metallic thread.

For the first time this piece is putting me in mind of the ceiling at Grand Central Station in New York.

elsewhere

My brain was over in this neck of the woods this morning, Most mornings lately.

a sunday stitch

Some days nothing comes easy. There is no order or sense to events. This is what happens to me when I only have twentyfour hour span with no obligations or responsibilities.

 Here is something I know about. The river basket has be waiting patiently.

(Jake & Charlie stopped by and we went out for a slice. It's been a while)


5pm and the winter light fails for the day. My fingers are stiff and balky but can still feel the needle through the layers.

Lifted Up

What a treat. Got up early to catch up on some routine household stuff that had gotten away from me. Fed the cats and took my coffee back to bed and started in on my Christmas gifts.

I won't whine about not having enough time to read. Bye bye FB.

I made a run to B&N to cash in a gift card and got a copy of "the Bone Clocks" by David Mitchell. I normally don't buy hardcover but after spending an hour trying to find anything else I was happy to find at least one book that was on my to read list.

The contents of the shelves in the fiction aisle was mostly stomach turning tripe if the back covers were any indication of what was inside. Life is good.

a spin cycle in perdition

this is copied from a letter to a friend. If you are as tired of illness as I am, skip this one. Come back another day. I'll live.

"This is the first time I've been near the computer since Monday night. On the way home from Charlie's I stopped at Burger King and by midnight I was deathly ill. In all the years I have indulged at fast food joints, this is the first time I've had actual food poisoning. 

the funny part is that in my day job, one of the things I do is take reports of customer illnesses from restaurant managers. Sometimes we snicker amongst ourselves. No more. And I know why people don't bother going to the doctor. It comes on too fast and you'd die in the waiting room, if you could get seen at all. There is nothing to do but suffer.

I literally spent most of the night sitting on the john with a trash can between my knees. At one point all three of our cats were sitting there watching me. I think they had a pool going to see when I'd pitch forward to land face down in the litter box.

The next 24 hours I lay in the bed, staggering to from the bathroom. Ebola would have been nice. At least the CDC would have come taken me to a nice hospital bed. Colin delivered ginger ale and water at arms length because, at first, I thought I had finally gotten the stomach virus that Jake and Missy had but the speed at which this blew through my body pointed to a bad whipper. 

At some point Tuesday afternoon, my mother's ghost visited me. I wasn't even surprised. 

First she called on the phone and then we sat at her kitchen table. Drinking coffee, me waving off her cigarette smoke, the two of us eating half a Sara Lee pound cake. we argued, I appealed to logic. She gave me her wisdom of the ages routine . All the time she was making her Christmas list.

It was so real.

After a night of dreamless sleep I woke up feeling like I had been trampled like elephants. I am fairly sure I have a broken rib. I woke up in time to have my little buddy delivered to my doorstep since I was still breathing and able to be upright. His little face was good medicine.

At some point in my delirium, my friend, the artist Pat Chauncey, died after a long struggle with cancer.

We never met but over the course of the past two years she has been a source of strength and inspiration. She will be missed by a vast army of friends and family.

choice bits

I wasn't expecting to spend the day with Charlie today but, it was that or housework. Tough choice. He's teething and likes to chew on stuff like a puppy. And put his feet into his mouth.

It was a good writing day. I made myself laugh several times. I don't know if that's a good sign or not, but I'm happy with it. Sometimes you lose your way. Today was a wayfinding day.


Also gave over two plus precious hours to a movie late in the day. "Birdman" starring Michael Keaton, was remarkable. Just astonishing film adventuring, particularly if you are fond of the theater.

 I'm staying with my plan of NOT watching trailers - going into a film with no idea what I was getting into. I will not be shy about asking for a refund if a movie turns out to be really bad. So far, no losers.