morphin

I have at least a dozen large pieces dating back to 2007 that just don't do it for me anymore. I can clearly remember being less than enthralled with the trend of throwing the kitchen sink onto every piece. A day didn't go by without one faction or another gushing about the Latest Thing with regards to embellishment which lead to discussions on how best to hang a piece freighted with beads, buttons, paint, whatever.

New to dyeing my own and whole cloth work, I was besotted with color and clearly remember being aggravated that I somehow had to have three layers and incorporate stitching if I wanted to be "in the club". Happy to say I never got in.

Still many of these pieces feel unfinished. Experiments in transformation are underway.

eyes wide open

No time for much else. These and another couple dozen will be dyed this weekend. Each one 13 yds of six-strand DMC floss.

Colors?  I won't know until the sun rises on Saturday. I also plan on working some larger pieces of linen and damask in the creeping darkness technique that I was experimenting with two weekends ago.

I spend most of what little free time I have writing, but I had a big bucket of emotional cold water tossed over my head last weekend.

There had been plans to give up both the studio, office and upstairs bath to a renter. I really thought I could do this, but when the preliminary meet with a person who would be anyone's ideal tenant was over, I sat in the studio at my sewing machine for a few minutes looking around, trying to decide what could be stored where and what would be parted with. Then I broke down in tears with emotions that reached far, wide and deep.

It took me a while to realize that I just couldn't take another square inch of loss in my life. So, I cannot afford to let this space, these materials, and most importantly, this practice languish and be wasted.  I have to try harder.
It's not like riding a bike at all.

and of course, there are life's delights.

moving on

"Fierce" has come down off the design wall and will be outside on the pool deck with the elements for the time being.

It's been getting in the way of progress in the studio.

With these new test pieces just shuffling around up there for now, I've finally been able to see that my lack of passion for getting Fierce done was directly connected to all the ways that the piece went sideways to my original intent. It's helped me see a new way to accomplishing that goal.

Whole cloth with was resist was NOT the path. It was a quick fix that failed. There are too many basic design flaws to admit to and correct. And yet, this cloth will continue to serve. There will be surgeries, overdyeing and more. The base damask was very strong and will not be wasted. I have no time to waste.

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)

capillarian

That's probably not a word, but it should be.

The intensity of interest about my experiments with cloth and dye continues to escalate. I should sell tickets.

I'm going to be happy and not if either of these two blacks turn out the way I hoped because I tinkered the crap out of them right out the jar and wrote nothing down. One was a warm bluish black and the other, cool. I beat them both into submission with orange and copper and didn't measure a thing. Sui generis.