Dream Re-runs

This is a repost from back in May only because I had the exact same dream last night. Although this is the last day of summer, the week ahead promises 80s in the daytime all week. I haven't worked on the dyedeck since then. There is still time and plenty of thread and cloth waiting.

I was in the studio the other day, looking for something as always, and a certain configuration of cloth - a small pile of rags, actually - spoke to me. Not a word so much as a gesture. I couldn't quite make it out, but it was gentle, insistent. The pieces below are somewhere in there too.

early returns 

I was just standing in front of the washing machine with my forehead on the lid making prayers to the Overlords of Particulate Physics that this litter of rags should TURN OUT RIGHT.

And, although my eye says "YES" my heart is still a clenched fist until they dry and maybe get ironed.

All this angst over a dream, which may have been a nightmare.

I could blame it (the dream, not a possible dye fail) on wallowing in the Madmen finale and trying to match everyone drink for drink, but those of you who know me also know that that would be nonsense. Still, I was pretty smashed after watching both the show and the encore.

I want to write more about Madmen, but I don't want to be assassinated by some random fan for spoiling it for them.

Besides, I won't write a lick until I find an image of Don stepping out of what I think was a '69 Chevelle SS 454. I didn't know where to look first as he took off the helmet.

It was always about the car.

Back to the nightmare.

Heisenberg, his mask perched over his glasses, sweat running off his face and fumes coming from his hazmat suit like vapors from hell,  leaning across the teacher's desk and intoning.

     "If you warm that bile with blood, better make damn sure it's royal blood and not that damned monkey juice you are so fond of!" 

 I knew exactly what he was talking about!

(note to self. don't forget what H said about the soywax and soul windows)

the Opening

I won't whine about not having taken any pictures myself because I was having too good a time enjoying the festivities. Colin did a great job.
                                                                     

Friends, old and new, family, and total strangers wandered in. For the first time, I was able to enjoy exhibiting my art because of the temporal distance I have from most of it now. It was fun to engage with visitors about my techniques and talk about textile art in general.

The hour and a half flew by in a blur and afterward, I was taken out to dinner. It was a great evening.

Because this room is used for many scheduled activities such as yoga classes, meditation groups, etc, please check the calendar at Phoenix & Dragon if you decide to visit the show. This also means that a lot more people are going to be viewing the work.

two to get ready

I just came from last minute (almost) details for the show. "Spooky Stories", my Dad's quilt, is NFS and is a little rumpled from the time it spent in my lap this morning while I stitched on a sleeve. It's been in use since it came back to me from  New York so there were little things here and there that needed attention, like a small patch of baby barf that escaped my attention.

The quilt on the right, "Hopped Up", sold before I got it hung, right from the FB announcement of the show. I'll have to dig through the archives here and print out the provenance for the new owner.

Same place. Another lifetime.

  August 26, 2013 was the last time I had a show at Phoenix & Dragon. Jim and Colin hung about twenty pieces while I stood around and got in the way.

 Jim was not feeling well but still did a fantastic job with Colin at his side, learning.

The next day we saw the doctor and got the diagnosis.

the hard work

"Reticulated"  2007 

Who stays and gets to strut it's stuff and who gets rolled up to go back into the closet?   I spent two full hours making those decisions yesterday and, with no one to help me pull back and see clearly, I hope I made the right choices.

It might just be a big damn mess, but the ones that got to stay are clearly my favorites. I was alone in the room with memories. Today, Colin and I will go over and actually get everything up on the walls. Here are a few who didn't make the cut even though I hauled them over there.

None of my smaller pieces are represented.
It's a big room and the littles tend to get lost.

"Limbo" 2007

I'm going to be updating my gallery over the coming weeks so each one will get a chance to shine.

"Summer banner" wasn't even finished and no time to make it happen.  (minus the lettering, of course)


so many more. so many.

"Mirage" (from the highway to hell series)

new territory

More like uncharted territory.
Much has gone on since the positive change in my health status. It's been strange coming "unstuck", but I'm working on it.

I have been scrambling to make ready for another solo show at Phoenix and Dragon in Roswell. It's been two years since the last one and I warned the owner that I had no new work.
She was happy to have a retrospective. There is room for 12 to 15 pieces depending on the sizes. So I decided to haul everything out of hiding/storage just to have a look and see what I was thinking.

Some stuff left me cold and will be finding new homes in strange places (a public art experiment that I'm still thinking about).
Others took my breath away.

Instead of moaning "Who was this person of exuberance?" I can now say that I had a great run at it for a while. And you can just never tell, so I'm not junking the Janome anytime soon.

The show, "Reclamation & Rebirth" opens Sunday, Sept. 13 with a small reception from 4:30 to 600pm in the gallery at the Phoenix & Dragon bookstore and will run through the end of September.

Thanks

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I've not been scared these past few weeks of not knowing. More like frozen halfway between panic that there is too much left to do, and relief that none of it will be my problem anymore.

The selfish anxiety has been how the potential illness and possible treatments would affect my thinking, my art. Thinking beyond that to matters of mortality has not been an issue. I'm cool with all that. Packed even.

Now that there are no excuses, I find that the road is wide open. In fact, there is no road. I've always enjoyed maps. Making them up as I go.

Thanks to everyone who was concerned, said prayers, did dances and made promises on my behalf. I'll do my best.

Some Kinda Wonderful

I went to the post office yesterday and was astonished to find the entire population of Wingdale, Milledgeville and another other nuthouse you care to name seething around in the lobby as if they'd been notified that gold bars were being distributed over the counter for free. Most of them were unhappy about the scam. Before gunplay ensued, I booked, putting the business off until today.

This morning I walked into the Lilburn office and there was one lonely staff person - the greeter guy who works the lobby making sure you know what you are doing before you hit the counter. I thanked him for my very own personal post office and two ladies came to the counter at my announcement.

"She's got another bundle of rags." One of them said. They always want to look so I never seal up the packages until they are done. Transaction and conversations underway simultaneously and, from the recesses of my bag, my phone goes off, LOUD (otherwise I can't hear it.)

 My ringtone for everyone is "Some Kind of Wonderful" by Grand Funk Railroad. I don't answer because I'm face to face with other humans and I like the music so I let it play and they all like it too. Spontaneous hoe down ensues, everyone bopping and stepping for thirty seconds. I'll get back to whoever.

Business concluded, I stepped outside to call back the mystery number. It was the neurologists office. The news was all good. Aliens in my brain had decamped, packing out their trash and leaving no traces. It must have been too hot and chaotic in there for them. Absent any new or recurring symptoms, I am no longer a candidate for skull drilling, experimental brain rays or a pine box.

I went back inside, about a dozen folk all milling about now,  doing the post office boogie on simmer. I raised my arm to get everyone's attention.

      "Ladies and Gentlemen! That phone call that we all danced to a minute ago?  That was my doctor. I do NOT have a brain tumor, brain cooties, cancer or aliens." It's been a long time since I was on any kind of stage. Applause is some kinda wonderful.

wrinkled in time

A week ago I was offered a solo show at a local gallery where I have shown before. I love the space, but remain a bit alarmed at the amount of work it's going to take to open on 9/13/15.

I just finished stitching a sleeve onto this piece which has never been exhibited anywhere because I could never hang it for pictures. It's been hoarded along with a handful of others.

Time for being lazy and fearful is up.

It's not deeply creased, but I don't want to use an iron on it. Suggestions? (update - it's been hanging outside undercover in the shade and is almost wrinkle free) thanks for the input.

This was from one of the last shows, '12 or '13, I can't pin the date down. I intend on hanging this once "Ocean Homes" in the very same spot. Too pretty not to.

in the night

"Later she would say that the furniture in the room of her head had been moved. The room was much larger now and the open windows filled with light as if the sun shone from all points of the compass at once and fresh air breathed through her head like the wind in the willows."

The pool is coming around. It will take hours of intensive labor from inside the pool to finish the job once it clarifies a little more so I can see what I'm doing. Such a chore.

I left all the doors and windows open wide when I went to bed last night. It's sixty-one degrees out now and it feels like the first day of third grade in Goldens Bridge, NY,  1956. The year I first signed all my writing in script. No more printing.

Jake just told me that Charlie slept through the night a second night in a row. I had forgotten what a huge milestone that was for me and Jim who must have walked a thousand miles up and down the hallway in that first year, humming to the little sack of energy that he spawned. I slept sitting up in a rocking chair for most of  that same year until Colin, quite suddenly, got the hang of what the darkness was for.

I think that is when babies start to dream and have enough self-awareness to know that they are ok in that dream. Safe at home and in love and comfort no matter what dreams may come.

cloth identity help - updated

Thanks for all the help. The likely answer is Kona, but I'm not even going to run to HoAnne's to confirm it. I couldn't afford it in the first place and happily I just found a good two yards of undyed cotton that will do very nicely, a bit softer hand, but that's a good thing since it's going to be bedware. When I can get around to it. More about that in the next post.

 m
I've come up with a plan for this cloth, but I have a problem. I need more of the same fabric and, although it's a type of high-end cotton used by dyers, I cannot remember what the brand might be.

So, I'm asking all the fiber folk who may be reading to see if you can name what I will describe.

It's 100% cotton, very fine threads, tightly woven,  with a smooth hand - if a little "hard". Even after dyeing and several washer/dryer trips it's still crisp and has held the dye like Alcatraz. It cracks when you snap it and will probably be hell to hand quilt, hence my decision to use it in a machine pieced design.

A long time ago I bought a few yards from TestFabric, but I don't recall the hand of that cloth being this fine. Any guesses?