I took the cure for (everything) a few hours this morning and then spent several more hours picking out a load of injudicious machine stitching from
this piece which was buried in the slush pile of unfinished business.
I've decided that Glyphs needs hand stitching. What kind and how much I have no clue as yet. There will probably be a lot of stitching, picking out and stitching again as I feel my way.
A good friend sent me this artistic lifeline in response to my sulking.
"The soul becomes dyed with
the color of its thoughts."
Marcus Aurelius
Go on, repeat it three or four times.
Have you ever been riding a good horse who suddenly shifted up into a canter without your inept urging as if to say
"This is how it's done."
Even the rhythm is thrilling.
Continuing the break here until my Eyes, My Hands and my Art Heart remember how to get along together again. No point in throwing good raw materials in the crapper.
For the moment picture three willful children standing in the corner pouting, unrepentant and perfectly willing to eat worms until they all get their way.
When I left the office last night I realized that I have been spending too much time looking down. Putting one foot in front of the other and just barely getting there.
I need to go someplace (else) and stare into a brook or up into some trees for a while and see what else is putting one foot in front of the other trying to get by.
There was a great big leopard frog sitting on the doorstep of the office the other evening. He was working the bugs that were flocking to the lamp post. He gave me a disgusted look and scooted away when I stepped outside. Smart and handsome fellow he was. Of course my camera was at home.
These are pictures taken in traffic. I really was watching the road.
I've spent the morning photographing and posting another half dozen of my recent hand dyes to Random Acts of Dyeness.
Now all I have to do is keep my hands off them for a while, you know, give other folks a chance.
