Thinking about what it's going to take to bring digital imaginings to the cloth, wax and dye.
How many yards can I stand...and will I be satisfied when the vagaries and imperfections of the process manifest? Can I cultivate some discipline for a day and be glad with the results? Only one way to find out.
I've been spending about an hour each morning stitching on the latest of the big flags. I'm still not happy that for all the trouble stitching like this takes, the overall effect not what I hoped for. What that is remains to be seen.
Tomorrow I'll start working this one over with the transparent Setacolor.
Now that the lines are all in place, it will be like coloring in a big coloring book. All I have to do is get the crayons right.
...all.
I guess if doodling starts with line, then this little mandala qualifies. These two pieces of hand dye have been following me around in the studio for a while now and the other day at work I cut them into 3/4 inch ribbons and crocheted them into harmony. Look closer, be mesmerized.
I had it hanging on the wall at eye level in my office cube and find myself staring at it and stepping onto a jungle's edge beach in my mind.
My doctor has started me on some medication to even out mildly elevated blood pressure. She and the office lady warned me not to take it at night because I would not get any rest for trips to the bathroom but the label also warned of drowsiness. The label won out - I sleep deeply, restfully and untroubled. I dream about the ocean and have not yet peed the bed.
Thanks to Red Thread Studio I have a new image to obsess about.
I was captivated by this image and then the name "Conquistador" - a Jack Lenor Larsen fabric at the Minneapolis Institute for the Arts from 1966. So much of his work feels fresh and wonderful.
The shapes, the lines the colors (even the description of the colorways!) all made me want to drop everything and heat up the wax.I am already mentally mixing a batch of my secret "Monkeys Blood" dye.
Until I have the time to devote a whole weekend to dyeing and waxing, here's a new fish under way for while I am at the office and limited to hand stitching.
This one is going to take some time. As I'm drawing on the fabric with stitching, and going back to double the lines for emphasis, I can see that I'm going to have to go back in with paint to make the design sit up and holler the way I want it to. The way it needs to be on a piece this size. There's no room for insipid on these banners
Here's what I did with that fabric spaghetti that I won from Diane's blog. Jinx has claimed it for her own personal cat doily. I had to move her (again) just to get this shot.
It's good to get back to work on the big flags but it turns out that I'll have to take this one to the outdoor space to lay it out and sandwich the back and batting. As yet untitled, this one is as wide as my wingspan, that is 65" wide and 82" long.
I had to wait to find batting big enough but it's altogether now and waiting for the fun to begin. Which stitch goes where and why.
We were always having a pretty good time. That's Jake on the left, and Colin.
August, 1985.
And here's my Dad and our newest cousin, Dallas.
And heeeeerrres Dallas, and his big brothers Reno and Ryder (did I get that order right boys?)
We had to let the swimming pool "go green" early last year when Jim was in the hospital and then we let it become a biosphere over the winter months. I hate putting the cover on the pool.
With all the rain, we are about two weeks behind in cleaning and refilling it but the local tree frogs were right on schedule. The racket at night has been deafening.
They put up the "Froggy Club Med" sign and have been doing what comes naturally in the spring and now we have about a million tadpoles in 4 inches of green water. I couldn't stand the notion of running the entire population through the sump pump so I got down in the slime with a net and bucket and rounded up about half of them and drove down the block to empty then into the stream. Hope the neighbors downstream enjoy the racket.
I was so tickled when this bundle of wonder arrived in my mailbox yesterday.
Imagine winning something you really liked just for showing up and shouting!
A long time ago I entered a drawing at the grand opening of a hardware store. I won a fake chandelier, retail value $49.95 but I was living at home at the time and my family's home was a ranch with 8 foot ceilings. I asked the manager if I could choose an alternate prize. He was quick to agree when I asked for a very untrendy bicycle that had probably been hanging on the back wall for ten years. That was so cool.
This is just as cool and all the way from Hawaii. Thank you Diane.
My fish fixation continues.The dyed damasks have the same iridescent shimmer that's found in fish skins.
What could be more alien than a creature who's environment would kill us in a few heartbeats without scuba gear?
I've been watching River Monsters with horrid fascination thinking about all the times I blithely paddled about in strange waters, both fresh and salt, toes and fingers like so many tasty Twinkies.
Years ago I lived in Provincetown MA for a summer. Some friends and I splashed about at night in the high summer tide alongside one of the town piers just to watch the bio luminescent microorganisms shimmer green fire ripples around us in the water. Minutes later as we sat dripping with our feet dangling off the seawall, a huge curved shape about six feet wide was outlined by the green glow as it swam in a great curving arc in from the depths to where we had stood moments before and then, without pausing, turn back to deep water leaving a trail of stars in it's wake. It was more than chilling.
It's all in the eyes
I'm researching fish faces for a piece I'm working on.
Ever take a close look at their eyes? I used to fish a lot when I was a kid just so I could get a good close look at them. Never knew anything but catch and release. If I wanted fish, Mom would make Gortons.
Even though they are beautiful, when you gaze inside, there's just nobody home.
When we lived on the other side of town Jake caught a strange fish from the stagnant little run-off pond in the community. He and JJ came running to me with it because it was scary. I knew everything that swam in fresh water in the Northeast but this fish was something else. Pointy face and a mouth full to overflowing with long, needle sharp teeth and orange eyes as big as nickles. No one has been able to tell me what it was besides a fright. They put it back in the pond, carefully.
Just a couple more tiny teeth, I promise.
I've spent a quiet overcast weekend building some new small things to be stitched another time and thinking about possibilities.
There's no end of willing helpers when the spools are brought out
Everyone's entitled to go supernova from time to time.
I've been working on this one between calls and one of my coworkers inquired with concern "Do you have kids?" I replied "They're grown now, you're too late" and chuckled.
Lately I've been irked about not being able to afford the crap shoot of entering major shows but I finally committed to a local art fair this coming fall. I was flattered to be invited back to the Norcross Art Fest where I had a very successful weekend a few years back.
Now I can relax and devote my spare minutes to making some market friendly pieces instead of fretting about missed (and imaginary) opportunities, I'm going to be making the best of this new one.
There's a little artin going on but mostly fiber fondling. I've been going through the fruits of the last fiber fest and happy to tell you not much of this batch is getting out to the general public. Maybe next go round.
This is one of the tighter woven feed sacks, maybe from flour or sugar. It's got a wonderful soft, almost flannel hand.
Another of the tight weave, "diaper weight" pieces.
and finally, a quarter of an antique damask tablecloth, worn soft and wonderful and bound to become some free motioned flowers soon.
Sorry for the crappy photo but I'm starting to live/love this piece again and gotta dash. The rest of the goodies are tumbling around in the dryer right now. _____________
Back from the errand dash...and I have Glory & Riches!
This is a long strip of the coarser chicken feed sack fabric from Rosemary.
I've learned a lesson about being over impressed with wet stuff. I won't have any pictures of finished products until later in the week. Let's just say I bit off more than I could chew today. I fact, I'm choked.
This is one of several salt/dyed pieces coiled up in baggies and waiting to hatch. Damask and natural muslin sandwiched together this time, sharing the crystals and dye.
This piece has had soy wax treatment and is waiting for color. It's in the washing machine right now cause I just had to see one of them today.
Too much sun, too much fun. I am whupped.
Chef Jim prepared fabulous flat iron steak, 'tater salad and 'maters and olive on the side. Summer fare for Summery Sunday.
Jude's recent post about faces got me to checking into my image files, stuff that I created, not photos, and I came up nearly empty handed. Now you know why.
Seems like whenever I set about making faces there's a strong current of menace and mayhem just waiting to manifest. I find most of them hilarious. I brought some embroidery thread to work to see if I remembered how.
This feels like a throw back to "Atavistic Inclinations" going back to 2006, one of my first experiments with discharging.
Thanks to everyone who wrote and gave input regarding the feed sack material. It's all been prepped and some of it will go into a soda ash bath tonight for a dyefest tomorrow. It's toasty here in Georgia. Seems like we've skipped spring and gone straight to summer - great weather for dyeing.
Wonderful things come to light when you start digging.
I need to get new containers as all these charming little baskets are too small by half for each colorway and you cannot put 14 pounds of cat in a ten pound basket for long.
The red pieced thing is "Picnic In Hell" a top that has been missing for more than a year.
All this industry was provoked by the arrival of a large box of vintage fabrics passed on to me by my friend Rosemary Claus-Gray. An incredible trove of fabric that may prove to be from the turn of the century. I found a barely visible stamp on one piece that said "Made For A.D.Pierce, Brooklyn, Conn." A little research tells me that this company was a hatchery of some sort. Wonder what they used all this cloth for. Chicken blankets?
I also came across this piece of embroidery that used to grace the whole back of a denim coat that I wore until it was pitiable. Then it was on a couch pillow for years. next?
For lack of anything else to do (besides muck out the Aegean stables that my studio has become) I nailed these
dyed damask flowers on the pointed ends of my favorite velvet shawl.
My seat at the office is close by the wall of glass (for the light) and the door breezes so I mummy up with this when the evening turns blue and cool.
Yeah, there's no denying that they are flags. Even hanging across the opening of the laundry and backlit with a 75 watt bulb.
I've always loved stained glass and was really thinking about that Tiffany window when I reshuffled the pallette after a false start. Even though I seamed a few of those pieces together, they were dumb as posts and just not happening.
A few fabric substitutions and some transparent Setacolor and this one is starting to hum.
It's fixing to get grizzly outside so my idea of painting/drying/painting on the deck is now going back and forth between 1/2 of my sewing table and the laundry closet opening which is 60"x80" and covered completely by this piece. I don't know why I think this is a big deal. People routinely made bed covers bigger than this.
Here's a shot with flash and half dry so you can get an idea of what's really going on instead of the glowing wishful thinking happening in the first picture. You can bet I'll keep coming back to it and try with paint and other techniques to make it happen for real.
Thanks to everyone who commented on "Front Runner" and the way I documented it's manifestation. Keeping track of my work was my original purpose for keeping this blog. Time to toe the mark.
Ever timely, Elizabeth has posed the question "where d’you begin?" I gave it some thought and decided to pay closer attention this time as I'm anxious to start the next piece in this series.
There've been plenty of pictures in the past of my studio, almost always looking post-apocalyptic, but pieces of ironed fabric, all stacked and racked, just don't speak to me.
It's as if they already have a job - presenting the illusion of order - and have an imaginary DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging on them. I think this is where some folks get carried away with their stash. It does look all nice and orderly all folded and sorted like that but how would you ever know how this red, that nasty, murky piece of table-mopper and that swath of golden damask would look together unless you flapped them off the shelf and threw them about a bit?
I started rounding up these likely suspects yesterday. I overdyed a few laggards and recalled one or two items from the wrinkled depths of the closet and heaped them in the Chair. I'm feeling intense. Cat posted this amazing photo a few days back that perfectly captured my color mood much better than my crayons have in the sketchbook.
You can see I've already deviated wildly.
to stop, I think.
At least time to stop and breathe.
Time to get out the shovel and get this place in order. When you go looking for something that you KNEW was there and can't find it three times in one day, it's time.
The stats god tells me that I have had a new and lengthy visit from someone someplace in the heart of NY near Wilmington. I know it's deep in one of the most beautiful places in this country although I'm ashamed to say I was never farther north than Glens Falls.
So many people think New York is all paved over, concrete and steel. I'm here to tell you that nothing could be further from the truth.
There's been a lot whining here about the limitations and failures I've experienced working with fiber and sewing.
Lately I've taken some good advice and started paying attention to what elements I like in a variety of other artists work and I keep coming back to the dimensionality of the machine stitched line in layers of fabric like Terry Grant's work.
(Front Runner in progress , 48"x72")
This time I'm going to compound the impact of the machine stitching on this piece one pass of stitching at a time and hope I recognize when basta! arrives.
The stitching itself is lost on these failing eyes from just a few paces across the room but the shadows that are cast with natural light get my attention like claw marks in bark.
For my own satisfaction, I'm thinking I have to find a balance between the broad strokes/energy of color and shape and the finer details of stitching and texture. I've come to accept that the problems of working large is finding ways to reconcile how a piece looks from across a room and what else goes on when you step in for a closer look.
addendum - I just read this from Lanie and find a serendipitous parallel .
Front Runner goes to batt and the Braves baseball season is off to a wonderful start as they are two games into handing last years world series champions Phillies their asses.
I start my mornings with some webwork, a cup of coffee and lately, two consecutive hours of some of the best TV drama ever written going on in the background while I putter, stop, and become engrossed.
Because I worked the second and third shift for many years, I didn't get to see West Wing when it was on in prime time, so many of the shows are new to me.
"Two Cathedrals" was just on and this one, like many, moved me to tears. I don't care what side of the political aisle you sit on, I just can't help but be moved by people who have made public service their whole lives and I'm not just talking about the elected officials. I also keep in mind what an amazing artistic collaboration this TV production was and wonder about how it came to pass.
Nothing in government would work without the people who move the mountains with teaspoons and I wish that I had made a career in that arena but then I remind myself that the contributions I have made matter a great deal to many people who care about me and I hike up my suspenders and get busy with my own teaspoon.
Almost all of the fabrics for this piece were selected from the slush pile...the redheaded stepchilden headed for the overdye pot someday when the mood moved me.
Pink flannel, fer crying out loud.
Transparent Setacolor has started working it's magic. That and pollen, bug crap, cat feet and whatever else is out on the top deck after a long, hard winter. It's raining out there now.
