Work in progress

Yes Melly, you are right about the dark spots. I was happier with them after I trimmed the darker edges off. Now the quilting is going well. Oh, and thanks so much for the Owls. Voodoo and I enjoyed the show for about 20 minutes. Beat prime-time TV all to hell last night. While I was working on this one last night, I was wondering about the satisfaction I get from "bounding" poorly defined color areas from one another, in this case with stitching. This piece was on it's way to my mental shredder almost from go, but something in the discharged shapes kept calling me back. Each step along the way, even false ones, has delivered on it's promise of pleasing me. All I had to do was see it through. Thread color choices have never been a big deal but right now I am stalled because I want the right colors of mauve, violet, and navy to continue - and I have to get in gear and go to work today. Hmmpf.

Beyond the Whine

After reading that last post I had to remind myself that, in the midst of all this personal turmoil, I have been getting some Art done almost daily. This one is plaguing me. I took my first shot at using Melody's Escape Hatch Finish and of course, screwed it up. Don't ask. Now I am spending hours re-arranging the spots and have a sneaking suspicion the dark ones are not going to make the cut at all in favor of some other color. I should know by now that this series does Not shine until way, way into the design process and a lot depends on the machine quilting. It's still in the sow's ear stage. Just had to mention that last night "West Wing" and "the Sopranos" were equally breathtaking entertainment. Figure out what that says about yours truly.

Find Me A Beach Somewhere....

Some of you are probably thinking I skipped my meds. I used to have regular nightmares of alligators twisting my legs off after I got hurt in the bombing at the '96 Olympics in Centennial Park, Atlanta and last night the alligators were back and I woke up with a cramp in my calf that took an hour to soothe. My husband and I have a code. If one of us calls the other at work and it's a really bad time, the callee simply says "Alligator" and the caller knows to just hang up and try later. It's actually a contraction of the expression "Up to my ass in Alligators" which is where we have both been for about six months now. Did I mention that my mother is back in the hospital again? this time with pneumonia. She has been in and out of hospitals for about three months and I am afraid she is in the Broken Hip Death Spiral and no one in the family is willing to say anything about it. So do I go up there and stand around in a hospital room and be useless or do I wait and go up there for a funeral? Both? Then there was a really interesting email Friday morning from some nice folks who are starting up a new shop/gallery in Portland, Maine. They made me an offer on eight of the pieces I had up for sale on Etsy.com. Just when I was getting ready to take everything off that sight. It just seemed to be getting overcrowded. I will keep you posted as to how and if this deal goes down. The money is almost exactly what I need to go to Arrowmont. Now all I can do is hope it's all legit and the check isn't drawn on a bank in downtown Niarobi. Friday night we went out for the first time since an office Christmas party. An associate of Jim's gave him four all access, VIP passes to see Charlie Daniels perform at a local cowboy bar called Wild Bills. There is a big sign over the door giving a long list of what is unacceptable attire including - no biker gear, no bandanas, no group-affilliated colors, no pants below the waist(?). As I read down the list I fully expected to see "no tie-dye" but I was willing to give it a shot. Jim is a big fan of old fashioned country western music so I promised myself I would do my best to be a good sport and have a good time. Surprise! About three hours into the evening, after two earsplitting local bands, swarms of drunks, bimbos in chaps with fake boobs dancing on the bars, Charlie Daniels started beating us up with His Personal Savior and by the way, you had Better Support the Troops or else. I just got up and walked out the door. Jimmy was pretty good about it. He was grateful, I guess, that I didn't leap up on the stage and choke some hymn singing hypocrite with the microphone. I am getting pretty damned sick and tired of the so-called cultural wars going on inside this country. Being proud to be an Ameican used to be enough. Now, you have to be the right kind of American and that is nothing to be proud of. So, I spent Saturday morning with ringing ears going through my inventory looking for the pieces in question and uploading just about everything else I have for sale to my Etsy shop.

Lisa Call and several other members of this ring have been provoking a serious line of consideration. I've been following this line of thought and am wondering if what people actually mean is a large "cohesive" body of work - I've only been calling myself a fiber artist since 2001 and I have a LOT of work, TOO much work that looks as if it's been created by a squadron of artists, some good, some who should be horsewhipped outta town and several talented chimps. I'm not inclined to try the latest product, gadget or technique. I have given up trying to bead things because I spend more time picking all the beads off. Ask Janet Thompson and she'll tell you how I refuse to learn curved piecing, foiling or using the bleach pen she gave me or how I keep shying away from fusing altogether. I just don't get the personal satisfaction in the results of those techniques that I get from doing the things that make my fingers and eyes happy but I do get the big thrill out of following my nose on any given day and letting the fibers do what they will. The results are more than a little scattered. Right now I am caught up in the middle of "riding the 3D tiger", to quote Susan Else, and working out a series of very large pieces that I hope are going to be the key pieces in my Large Body of Big Deals. But do I really want to do that? Do I want people to be able to look at a piece and say, unequivocally, that's a Lacativa. Maybe only if they are pulling our their checkbook as they are saying it? Hmmmm... And now, after dashing off Autopilot, there is a large, empty canvas that's been sitting on my beautiful, forgotten, dusty easel that keeps hissing to me each time I close the door to the studio as if I have to hide what's on my mind for it. I think the trick is running amok for your own sake but then having your Sunday Suit of Big Deals more accessible to the public - you know, the ones that made you go "Ah-ha! and Yessss!" the moment you stepped back from the design wall and even after you sewed on the sleeve - and maybe letting the chimp's work go cheap or get donated somewhere anonymously.

More Guts and Voodoo

The Intestines are mostly done but I want to use more of that iridescent sheer stuff but I guess I will have to track some down and actually buy more. And here is a rare photo of Voodoo voicing his opinion.