WIPS

These two pieces have come together for me in ways that I have to call mystical. They are made from the hand dyed antique damasks and cutwork lace pieces that I have been collecting for a while now and based on that wonderful, cut-rate, ancient cotton muslin I scored at OHCO. In some place the holes in the fabric were just there from age and laundering. In other areas I used sandpaper and a rock to abrade the raw edges and thin places for tearing - cotton damask is rough stuff. This one (55"x40") finished with less painting than I first thought. The second piece has more stitching in it's future, some hand stitching and painting . They are both large, this oneis 57"x 42" , both too big to photograph inside the studio without picking up furniture in the frame but it's still dark out. After the top was constructed and hand basted, I put it through a rough, hot machine washing with some work clothes. When I went to build it, I found that I had exactly enough batting left, to the 1/4 inch. I didn't see those spooky eyes until after it came out of the dryer. Thinking about working on these pieces leaves me feeling vague and slightly possessed. I like it.

Flow & Recuperation

After taking to her bed for a couple of days with lethargy and mopery, a 124$ trip to the vet for a look-see and some pink medicine, Jinx came into my studio today and jumped up onto the new WIP, rolled about and generally proclaimed herself on the road to recovery. We are all relieved. I finished up work on what is now titled "XX" and pretty quickly "XX 2 " came together on the design wall. As big as it is, it turns out that I had exactly, to the quarter inch, enough batting to get this piece built. I did some things differently this time, distressing some of the fabrics with sandpaper and rocks to get the worn feeling I wanted. ps. the original working title of this piece smacked of plagiarism according to the author of a book by the same name. He sicced his literary agent on me and the smell alone was enough to back me off and change the title of this whole series. We'll see what's in a name now that the book will not be mentioned here or anywhere else by me.

Stymied is my middle name

Seeing what Marie, Rayna and Dijanne have been up to is driving me nuts! There is a huge pile of PFD fabric, a big bag of soywax and a dozen new tubs of mx dyes waiting for me in the studio and whatever scraps of free time I have, I seem to only be able to accomplish SLEEP. Before any of that I have a deep need to tiptoe up on the current WIP and do things to it while it's not looking. It's a monumental piece as much in scale as in meaning for me and I'm worried about screwing it up but the vision calls for a little more. My baby sister Patty was here just overnight and I had 72 hours of anxiety over the fact that I perceive her as a disciple of Martha Stewart .Her daughter Kim says she walks around with a sponge in her hand and a glazed expression on her face. In my house I (half) joke that I had better do some domestic engineering before the Board of Health starts nailing notices to the door. Of course she was a gracious guest and we enjoyed the first all-Georgia family sit down dinner in longer than I can remember. Pat was here representing Wildlife Artists, Inc. on a sales call to the Georgia Aquarium toting with her a huge duffle bag full of the most adorable collection of stuffed creatures you could imagine. Some folks get all the fun! When she's not pushing plush she's a kickboxer!

A Day in the Country

Here we are set up (before there was any light to see by) for a day of a little marketing and a lot of people watching at the Bostwick, GA Cotton Gin festival. Optimistic as ever, I didn't think about wearing a jacket and spent the better part of the day looking for a patch of sun to stand in. The "porto-Public" facilities were atrocious so I just didn't consume any liquid for most of the day. When I say this place is out in the country I mean COUNTY. But just because we are in Georgia, don't think "redneck". This town and it's people are steeped in the culture of an American farming community and it was just plain nice to see hardworking people having the only good time for 50 miles around and none it having anything to do with what passes for contemporary cultural past times. A few ladies who might have had a nodding acquaintance with needlework paused by one of my quilts and then fell back clutching their hearts over the high price tag I had on it. "Honey, are these real diamonds sewn on here?" one remarked smartly. "Just WHY is this one so expensive?". My answer seemed to satisfy them- "I just really don't want to sell it". The day started with a parade down main street that consisted of countless John Deere tractors, most of them vintage, and a few old school hotrods. The parade ended up in field just adjacent to the pecan grove where we vendors had our tents pitched. A good time was had by all.

BOO!

As ever, my yard full of ghosts did a good job keeping the less hardy trick-or-treaters at bay. Tied to the ends of the tree branches, these are particularly effective when there is a breeze and I stand behind one of the trees and moan menacingly. One adorable baby giraffe made up for a squad of surly zombies and a parade of Paris Hilton wannabes. What were their parents thinking? I feel like posting a sign on the walk "NO ONE OVER THE AGE OF 10 PAST THIS POINT!" I am going to have to open an wholesale used candy store.