I'm more excited about these than the cloth this time. There were some accidents in the color process due the insistence of my feline apprentice, but from those came some serendipitously gorgeous, thirteen yard hanks of thread magic.
Due to the lack of sunshine/warmth this is the only way I can dry these after soaking and double rinsing them. Incredibly tedious. I had BETTER take up stitching again. There are maybe a dozen more waiting. I lost count and ran out of washcloths. A few will be up for adoption.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Last Chance
...to see the show at Phoenix and Dragon.
I'll be over there first thing Monday to take everything down.
It's been grand.
email me if you have any questions
Friday, September 25, 2015
Dye Fest Wrap-up
After a thorough rain rinse, these six and eight-foot strips were machine washed and tumbled to just damp and then let hang to dry. What started out as an enormous, fringed tablecloth - linen - I'm pretty sure, was ripped into nine or ten "scarves" although they won't be offered up for that purpose.
The cloth is coarse, not at all skin friendly. I plan on cutting these up in two or three-foot lengths as ground cloths, or bases. Each piece will be photographed and priced individually which is going to take some time. Bear with me.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Sept dyefest, day 2
So this turned out to be the day that Summer turned her back on my neck of the woods. It even rained on an off late yesterday. All unexpected by a bout of intense wishful thinking on my part.
It's okay. Rain rinse is very good thing. As I expected there was some weakness in some dyes, but that's okay too. What was left behind is subtle and deep. I may decide to overdye some of these and even have thoughts of hand painting with dye. I found a beautiful calligraphy brush in the chaos.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Staycation Dyefest, part 1
Not nearly sunny, but still warm enough. The mosquitos found me quickly so this fest cost blood as well as dye.
These threads are DMC six strand cotton and a handful of DMC Baroque which is kind of like Perle cotton on steriods. We'll see how well it likes the dye.
Half of these dyes have been exposed to less than optimum storage practices this summer so I expect the colors to be not nearly this strong come the wash out. I'll get back to all this tomorrow afternoon.
These threads are DMC six strand cotton and a handful of DMC Baroque which is kind of like Perle cotton on steriods. We'll see how well it likes the dye.
Half of these dyes have been exposed to less than optimum storage practices this summer so I expect the colors to be not nearly this strong come the wash out. I'll get back to all this tomorrow afternoon.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
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.
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 knew exactly what he was talking about!
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)
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
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.
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.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
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.
Wednesday, September 09, 2015
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 |
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 |
"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) |
Monday, September 07, 2015
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 02, 2015
Thanks
Add caption |
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.
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
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.
Monday, August 24, 2015
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?
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?
Saturday, August 22, 2015
How does the Universe speak to you?
The day before yesterday, I posted on facebook about Voodoo pissing in my private stash basket. I was able to wash everything and the basket immediately and I'm completely satisfied that everything was saved. this satisfied.
For some reason, my dryer has a habit of tangling these scraps mercilessly. As I sat clipping loose threads and freeing each piece from the Maytag Gyre, I took the opportunity to appreciate each one and try to remember what it was that got them into that "can't touch this" basket in the first place. I sorted them into piles, some to stay and some to go on to friends in far places.
I also spent a good bit of time contemplating what Voodoo's out of character behaviour portends. There was a late night conversation with Jimmy about where we would bury him the day the poor cat had some sort of stroke and appeared to be on death's doorstep for about twelve hours before he got up, shook himself good and went about his cat business. And how, in the final weeks and hours of Jim's passing, Voodoo never left his side until the moments just before dawn when he got up, stretched and made his way to my lap as Jimmy let go of my hand.
All these thoughts on my mind when I went to sleep last night. It's no secret or surprise that I have been in a fog of depression and anxiety lately, wondering what made me think I ever had a creative bone in my body. It's like being wrapped in wet wool. There's no way to lay that doesn't smell bad or itch. An ongoing sense of claustrophobia. Just enough from keeping one from seeing/feeling beyond one's own mild misery.
Sometime in the night, the flock of bats that has been roosting and rustling in my head opened up their technicolor wings, circled a bit and vacated the premises.
I'm watching Charlie today so Jake can replace the starter on Jim's truck so Colin can drive it again. On the drive over there, the two main characters of my book (they have not been speaking to me or each other for a while) struck up a brief conversation and an entire, needful scene rolled out right before my eyes, clear and real enough that I didn't even need to stop and take notes.
As I approached the entrance to their apartment, I saw that Jake had opened the door and was holding Charlie up so all I could see was his little face peeking around the door, head high. He was so happy to see me and even happier to help me take a deeper look at these fabrics to see what use might be found for them.
As I approached the entrance to their apartment, I saw that Jake had opened the door and was holding Charlie up so all I could see was his little face peeking around the door, head high. He was so happy to see me and even happier to help me take a deeper look at these fabrics to see what use might be found for them.
The Universe spoke to me through cat piss.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Got health?
I met with a neurologist on Monday. He spent a long time going over all the test results and scans from my hospital stay before coming into the treatment room to actually have a look at me.
A little Yoda kinda guy. Went over all the paperwork with me and then told me he had a hard time connecting all the hard copy with the living person sitting in front of him. A good thing.
He put me through a bunch of hoops, you know, touch your finger to your nose, eyes closed. Tiptoe across the room (?) which must have been a spectacle cause he giggled. Summation? He wants a repeat of the MRI so he can compare then and now. For some serious stuff going on in the scans, I was looking pretty healthy. No drilling for the moment. As you were.
A little Yoda kinda guy. Went over all the paperwork with me and then told me he had a hard time connecting all the hard copy with the living person sitting in front of him. A good thing.
He put me through a bunch of hoops, you know, touch your finger to your nose, eyes closed. Tiptoe across the room (?) which must have been a spectacle cause he giggled. Summation? He wants a repeat of the MRI so he can compare then and now. For some serious stuff going on in the scans, I was looking pretty healthy. No drilling for the moment. As you were.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
finding footing
Robbie, me and Kitty |
My nephews are having the kind of childhood that I remember - spending most of their time outdoors, in or around the lake and woods. The community I grew up in is little changed, still idyllic.
Patty and me at Misquamicutt Beach. RI |
Poor Patty was in the middle of some viral misery, but a perfect day at the beach went a long way towards making her feel better. We found a brand new favorite beach about two hours from her house.
The visit home was complete with a visitation from my parents' spirits, still at war. Unsettling, but not all that surprising.
There was no reading, writing or stitching while I was there. It was all about observing, appreciating and remembering. Lots of remembering.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
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