flings fly

In anticipation of spring this fling will be flying today.

It's been hanging around the studio since it was made and every time I unearth the thing it makes me grin so now it's going to make my mother and her friends at the nursing home smile and have a cackle.

groundwork

Just stitching on a passage thinking about the story.

I walked alone to school from day one. Across Main under the stern gaze of a crossing guard, down along  the dark side of Maple, past the front doors of the firehouse and the local newspaper and down a footpath through a dark wood.

There was a little wooden bridge over a brook and there were certainly trolls under that bridge but they could never catch me, I was running so fast. You had to hold your breath in the woods or they would be waiting when your feet hit the first board.

 At the end of the path the woods unclenched onto  the baseball field behind the school. It was full of cold sun with the block buildings squatting on the other side daring me come, full tilt.

traipsing

JR and I were loose on the streets of ATL yesterday on our bi-monthly mission of self indulgence. Nobody went to infirmary and nobody went to jail - mission accomplished!

 First  stop - IKEA! who is only too happy to feed people free breakfast so they will have the stamina to shop till they drop well after lunchtime. There was a real bedding frenzy going on..I got mine.  I have not been so inspired to nest refurbishment since Takashimaya was in NYC where I would spend my grocery money on a regular basis buying must haves like transparent turquoise and fuchsia plastic boxes, carved chopsticks in silk cases and acid green eye liner. Who needed to eat? Begging in the streets for Taka-money often crossed my mind.

On then to a quick visit to Phoenix and Dragon for a spiritual uplift and to take a few measurements (more about that later)  ..then we went  applying for part time jobs (just kidding folks)

 
Late lunch found us feasting at El Aztecas on Roswell Rd which had  moved across the street and upscaled quite a bit since the last time we ate there. Fabulous food and the waiter was most understanding about the no carb thing and made off with the dessert menu before I could read beyond Strawberry Cinnamon ice cream.

 Later we found out that "ESTATE SALE" doesn't necessarily mean there's any kind of estate involved. Just a lot of crap that was in the place when someone shuffled off and left it. They did leave this behind, to my delight!

inscription or tattoo

Jude says I have "Color and Heart"...
..thanks for the reminder lady.

"Hopped Up"   2007

(here's a little genesis for this one)

beautiful things

Have you ever seen a rock with a soul?

Enjoy the weekend!

a low level buzz of anticipation

"Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in".

The fabrics and stitching that is.
 Out of boredom and frustration, I started thinking spring yesterday with needle and thread. I'm trying to find my way around a serious blank spot in my line of inner sight by  making an end run with familiar techniques and materials.


I'll tell you what is hard...writing is hard. Talk about making something from nothing. Sustaining the attention for your own story, the one you are making up as you go, is like walking into a room full of large fans whilst holding a bunch of helium balloons on very thin, greasy strings.



On the news front, I am talking with the owner of a local bookstore that also has a large meeting/classroom that doubles as an art gallery. They have never had fiber art there.  So far, it looks like a one woman show in April at  a great location that gets a good bit of traffic that didn't come just for the eye candy.  More when the details are hammered out.

hangover

Urgh.

 Bless my darling Goodman for making sure my Valentine's day was celebrated properly, with cannolis from the Italian Pie.  They come dressed with fresh whipped cream and an extra drizzle of a sweet, creamy sauce flavored with anisette.

 This morning I am suffering from a carbo hangover and should spend the morning working out at the pool but will settle for extra fluids and some housework.

roadmaps and hinderances

I've gotten lot of advice from people I know and respect (and a boatload of total strangers) who have taken a whack at writing.

Everyone had a short reading list for me  so I hit the "used" section of Amazon and completed my shopping list for a mere song or two.

It's quite interesting that most of these books aren't a lot more expansive than the instruction booklet that comes (recipes included) with a new crockpot.  Except for King and Lamott, who have fleshed out their instruction with very readable autobiographical stuff, everyone else seems to have taken their own advice and cut to the chase...less and less is more.

Since I've been writing for a while for my own entertainment  I don't know how much or if I will take any of this sage wisdom to heart. One or two not shown here would be best mulched in a blender with fruit juice and taken as extra fiber...like eating shredded wheat dry.

The hardest part for me? Every frickin' thing is in Black & White! My eyes are parched for color.

Brrrrrr!

After a very mild winter we are getting a serious polar swat.  It was in the low twenties this morning and we are all bundled up with our fur on end and very grateful for clear blue skies with no freezing precip in the forecast.

There were actually a few flakes flying by as I drove into the city yesterday. I made a hasty exit off the freeway because the locals were terrible distracted by the flurry and I285 was quickly shaping up to be a demolition derby. They drive faster while peering up into the skies and talking excitedly on the cells. The long perspective looked like they were trying to drive between the scant flakes.

I've rolled one of the little heaters into the sunny studio, cleaned up a little and plan on putting the finishing touches to my friend Jan's quilt top today. Jan if you are reading this, I still need a verse for the band around the edge.

last stitches

                                    

 "Grand Rêver"

   I've put the last stitches in this one which has worked out to be 27"x29" . The edges are raw and I am still deciding if I want to mummify this one.

 

 

( turns out this is my 1400th post. Sheesh, what wind.  I could have had that bloody novel in the can by now!)

learn to quilt!

Remember this recent acquisition?

The maker, Serena Potter,  has started an informal and free online tutorial aimed at people who would like to learn traditional pieced quilting, people who might have no clue how to thread a needle. She doesn't quilt to win blue ribbons or make a quick buck - she does it because she loves the tradition, the process and the finished work. Her easy going and straightforward style is fun and she writes about a range of beginner's concerns that have never occurred to many who charge good money for quilting classes.

I know not many of my readers fit this description. Most of us have been at it so long we would be hard pressed to explain the most elemental details of sewing anything by hand. It would be easier for me to hem your skirt than tell or show you how, if either of us had the patience. I don't.

Serena, who is also the mother of two toddlers, has plenty.

She also has a wry sense of humor that is right up my alley and I have a long list of non-sewers to pass this link along to and I'll bet you do too. It jumps around a bit and the reader might have to scroll forward and back through the days to find  a good starting place depending on one's skill set, but it's all worth it.

She worries that there are purists out there who will argue with some of her methods or practices.
I told her "Screw em!" I have held one of her quilts in my hands and if these methods and procedures are how she arrived at this result, then she knows what she's talking about.

from the ridiculous to the sublime

Have you ever bought a product you didn't need just because the packaging was so cool?  There are three more flavors and I didn't buy any because I stood there for ten minutes not being able to decide which of the four to buy!




And we have Morna to thank for discovering the work of artist Huguette Caland.  Don't miss a single jawdropping link! Takes my breath away too, Morna..thanks.

This is the kind of work that makes me get all quiet inside and just pay very close attention to all the feelings and responses going on. Attend!

"Rossinante Under Cover I" by Huguette Calnd
51x42”, acrylic and pen on canvas, 2011

supermac

If you live in the Southern US and you are from the NE you know how hard it is to find a really good Macintosh apple. The produce man tells me that they just don't travel all that well and, in fact, you rarely find them in the stores.

I took a chance on just one from Publix this morning. More often than not they are mealy, blah and disappointing.

Today I hit the crisp sweet/sour jackpot and sat in the car and ate that apple like it was my last damned meal. Actually it was my breakfast and the first apple in way too long, I'm on a carb restricted diet and less than terrific apples were not on the list of things that I missed.

This had to be one of the apples that the wicked witch gave Snow White because as soon as I got home I needed a serious nap. Such has been the highpoint of my day....

post redux - In writing (11.18.09)

Thanks for all the wonderful points of view regarding the use of written dialogue stitched into art. It's good to know what other people think both about doing it and seeing it. For now I have decided against any messages or even letter forms.

I find that when I begin using letter forms I can't help but want to convey something snarky or entertaining. In fact, I find that when I work literally or do something representational you can pretty much bet on something weird, shocking or downright wrong going on. You'll laugh too if you don't run out of the room.

rituals & tradition

I have a new ritual these days. Some might have noticed that it's eating into my blogging frequency. Probably.

I get up as soon as Jim and Colin leave for work, go downstairs and push the button on the coffeemaker that Jim has blessedly prepared for me.

By the time I've finished dishing out three different kinds of cat food and refereeing the jostling hordes (really, there are only four) the coffee is ready. I take it back upstairs, set it on the nightstand and get the laptop from the studio. It's still dark out as I transcribe whatever scribbles appeared in the notebook from the day before and fatten them as I go. An hour or three will go by before I notice.

If I get bogged down, I will take a new page and devote it to just focusing on a very small detail - Annie Lamott's "square inch picture frame" trick that she would use to keep up the writing momentum.

This morning I went after the day my father's mother taught me to cross stitch and why. The embroidery hoop in the picture is one of a pair that I still have that belonged to  Nell. This is the smaller of the pair and the same ones that I used that first time 58 years ago.

She showed me just how to set the hem of the cotton pillowcase between the hoops and watched over my shoulder as I constructed a little march of tiny green DMC  Xs along the hemline. I spent a lot of time looking at the backside and trying to make it as neat as the front, no mean trick for a four year old. My real objective was to be as stingy as possible with the thread because Nell told me that after I had used up the three hanks she had given me I would have to buy my own thread. She would be giving me twenty-five cents a week for helping her in the kitchen. Twenty-five cents a week equaled five new colors from the stationary store down the block from our house. I couldn't wait!

The "why" of the lesson you ask? Well, that's pages away.

expanses

Like the new header? I needed a change of scenery to go with the change of seasons.

It's a section of my personal "Beach" from back in May 2010. I was rooting around looking for more formal images and there are none. I could dig it out and reshoot it but this snip will do for now. It reminded me of the pleasure of arms wide, eyes afar designing and building a piece that was intended to be used and not just displayed.

Come to think of it, I know  this piece has no sleeve for hanging which is why it never got properly photographed.  More along the lines of this one gives me a lot to look forward to, fiberwise. It's time to climb out of winter's comfy, cozy closeness and aim far and wide.

before the rain comes

It's warm for February, the jasmine on the mailbox has started blooming reminding me I need to cut the crape myrtles back very soon. Like tomorrow.

I've been spending time working on this one with my hands while I work on the writing with my brain; the other part of the brain that wanders all walleyed when you are stitching.

Each element is like a sentence or paragraph in a story that needs to be complete unto itself yet, for the story to be successful, they have to relate to each other in an engaging way.


I've had to completely remove a couple of pieces and start over in the spaces left behind. Brutal editing.

If you notice something odd about the scale of these creatures, good eye!. They are sitting about ten feet apart, acceptable distance per Karma in the foreground.

Juicy (stretching it out in the background) was closing in on twenty pounds the last time he was to the vets over a year ago. Madame K, on the other hand, might be seven pounds soaking wet.

She's been doing better, thanks.

at the washateria

Rather than give my aging washing machine a fatal dose of overwork, I hauled a large load of towels and blankets to the laundromat yesterday. It's not a novelty anymore - I don't sit there and watch things go 'round with one eye and CNN on the tiny screen in the corner with the other.


I trust everything to the largest washer and then sit in my car with an alarm set and read, or sleep or stitch. Although it was cool yesterday the sun was blazing and I brought along the current WIP and put in a good two hours on it between washing and drying.  Below it's spread out on the (grubby) hood of my Honda but I've backed this one with a piece of organza that seems to be bulletproof.

There's more going on in each block with this one. It's almost twice the size of any of the four previous pieces in this series and I've given up any pretense of restraint, block by block the action builds.

In the top picture you can see the variety of fabrics I'm using - the golden speckled is a bit of a vintage woven tea towel, the lavender with clouds is a snip from a cotton lawn scarf from Dharma Trading, feather light and nearly transparent. The rich blue at the bottom a section of a hand dyed vintage damask table napkin, all three from my favorites basket.

mystery symbol

I was skimming around the web the other day and the symbol above (best as I can reproduce it) appeared in one of those annoying little ads littered everywhere. Although I pointedly ignored the ad, the image stuck in my brain and I'm wondering now what it was. Have you seen it? Any clues?

My lesson for the day...never write before going to sleep. Wait until morning.

an escape

I love the Whole Foods Market on the other side of town. It's probably a real good thing it's not closer.

There were bunches of freesias in this display that smelled so beautiful. I stood for the longest time trying to think how to describe the smell but it struck me senseless and I was impeding the traffic so moved on.

No bakery indulgences today but a nice steak for the guys and some shrimp for me and  pound of the best sliced provolone cheese in Georgia.I brought home three cans of their store brand cat food and, of course,  Karma and Voodoo ( the gooey, wet feeders) fell on it like I never fed them before I left the house. I bet they would just love caviar.

The clearance tables at Barnes and Noble was insane. Books heaped everywhere..all 2$ each. You would think they were going out of style tomorrow. I still prefer holding the real thing in my hands with pages to turn, take notes on and probably give away when I am finished with it. Among others,  I bought a copy of "Remarkable Creatures" by Tracy Chevalier and sat in the outdoor cafe and soaked up a little sunshine and tea.

PS...I started using this laptops speech recognition program this morning but while I had it open in my lap, Jim called and Sweetie climbed onto the keyboard to "help" with the phone call. She's not a lap kitty normally but the minute I start talking on the phone she tries like hell to intercede.  In the middle of the document I was transcribing there is ten or twelve pages written by cat's ass. Brilliant stuff too.

For a giggle I turned up the TV and let Tony Soprano (badly edited on AE) dictate to the computer for a while. My computer now has some very bad mock swearwords ...motherflapper!

sounds like this

After a very long and tiring day yesterday I finished work around one am and set about shutting some windows. It had cooled off after the rain and damp was creeping in .

 I opened the slider to the deck to make sure none of the cat crew were lurking on possums outside and what do I hear, distant but clear - a few intrepid tree frogs waking up from winter naps to tune up with their wooden combs dragging one tooth at a time over cigar boxes. They sounded tentative but hopeful.
 

 It made me smile and  I realized that winter's worst was past and there would be long, lazy summer days before we knew it.

and TGIFF!

Rx

Not fun.
I spent the best part of today at the cardiologist office being lit up with isotopes and drugged to extremes so we could all watch my heart tango in 3D on a computer screen.

I told them I could not run (or crawl) on a treadmill because I get nauseous from movement that goes nowhere..some middle ear nonsense - so I got the chemically induced version of a stress test. It leaves you feeling like a day old banana peel on the sidewalk.

All the things  I brought to pass the waiting time..books, journal, stitching.. were mere baggage cause I was too tired, hungry and yukky feeling to do any of it. I was glad I brought my blankie along for warmth, all the places for waiting were over air conditioned and ring ring...the nurse just called to say that all the tests came back normal - a Clydesdale's heart working just as it should. No worries mate!

fingers drum steering wheel..

  Sheesh..145 or so completely boring looking cars grinding by at about 3 mph. I'm going to lay in a stock of cans of spray paint in the trunk of my car for the next time I get stuck at this crossing.


Idle minds churn weirdness;
"This is a work of fiction. If you recognize yourself and you don't like what you read, you are guilty and should shut up and go away cause I know where the bodies are buried. If you like what you read about yourself, send flowers. Or money."

comment settings

Somehow the settings for allowing comments from All and Sundry got screwed up here (imagine! who could have possibly been tinkering with stuff that wasn't broke??) and some were not able to fling flowers or poo. Please have another whack at it and let me know ....


Thanks for letting me know, Arlee. 

what's afoot

The stars out of place

(It's a scary story, that one)

Some of you have asked what I have been up to. Not a whole lot fiberwise.

I'm still working sporadically on the Grand Rêver (below) which is coming along nicely, if predictably. The majority of my creative time and energy has been going into writing. It's been a long time since I was swept away by the creative process and it's a compelling feeling. I've been warned by a mentor not to “write myself out” but it's the last thing I dwell on at night and the first thing I'm thinking about in the morning.

The time I used to spend in the fiber studio has been completed taken over by this tale spinning. When I look back on some of my favorite fiber pieces the titles remind me that they were often place holders for untold stories and now I'm finally telling some of them. The only problem I'm having is that I am used to sharing works of visual art in progress. It would be a bad idea to start flinging rough first drafts at friends and family – I would surely be locked up.

I'll still be fiddling with fiber from time to time and will show and tell about that here especially since the new dye season will be on us before you know it and piles of white fabric sitting around just waiting to be reborn in color get my attention just like a blank page of paper.

a fork in the river

These two pieces of cloth are taking on an unintended significance. Cloth too complex and strong to be cut up and incorporated into a larger whole are like memories too deep and dark to be transcribed. Although I love both pieces I am unmoved to do anything else with them.


I ironed both today. front and back, back and front then spread them out and and looked a good long time and it was like being in the room with two belligerent teenagers. Don't bother to meet theirs eyes if they are not yours. These two seem to have disowned me. I'm almost afraid to go digging through the rest of them.

I'm a stash busting in a big way and will be posting a lot of hand dyed cloth to the store and getting some finished things up  on the Buy Art page. A liquidation of sorts. Drag it on long enough and I could almost call it spring cleaning.

headcold

I violated the cardinal Gramma's rule yesterday and went out in the winter chill with wet hair to get about six inches chopped off the ends. Later in the day I came down with an old fashioned sneezing, eye-watering head cold. I really don't buy the connection because it's something I do all the time. More likely I picked up a germ from the swarm at the grocery store. Howard Hughes was right.

Still, here I am,abed  stoned to the gills on Alka Seltzer for colds.  If I can keep my eyes open there are books to read and feathers and works in progress to stitch on before I have to work this afternoon.

 
One of the bad things about working from home is that there is little excuse for not working as long as you can sit upright in the chair and see the computer.
 
I started my shift last night well medicated and found myself strangely sanguine and sympathetic to my hapless customers instead of cynical, impatient and superior.  Who knew "nice" came in a fizzy drink? I will have to restrain myself from greeting people with

"Happy Friday! What foolish fresh hell are you reporting today?"

I want to go see "The Artist" in a theater like the Fox downtown but I'll settle for the AMC nearby.

delightful chaos

Chaos yes, but no trash or garbage. That was part of the mission yesterday afternoon. Two large bags of Garbage to the recycle and a large box of fabric sent off for someone else to "appreciate". I found whole yards of commercial fabric that I could track back to one of my earliest treks to MaryJo's 
maybe six or seven years ago. I know it's going into great hands.

As for the rest of this, little by little I'll dig it out and reorganize along the lines of some new priorities.

Dilemma #1: Can a 10x11 foot room really hold three large comfortable chairs?


and what's with those stupid wire racks taking up air in the closet?

Please don't notify "Hoarders"...it's surely not TV worthy.

Karma

It warmed up a bit today and Karma met me in the driveway when I got back from running errands and a stint at the pool. She was stamping her feet and demanding to see what was in the Publix bags. She has taken to climbing into the vehicle if you fart around too long with the door open.

Here she is taking some sunshine out on the dye deck wrapped in an old wool scarf which she did not fuss about. Lately she seems to be studying on some internal truths. Under all that fur, she is so frail I cannot tell her ferocious purr from trembling with cold.



She is becoming more eccentric by the day as her health declines. Sometimes though, I think she is just sitting around thinking up new ways to make us all worry.

I was up half the night checking on her. She decided to make camp in the boy's bathtub but was refusing to drink from the ever dripping tap- not a good sign- but she was all too happy to take water from a syringe, a teaspoonful at a time. I'm sure champagne would have gone over well. Anastasia has nothing on this Queen.  She has figured out that yowling from inside the always open dryer gets instant attention. However much longer she is with us she will be spoiled rotten every minute of that time.

gifts

I have been stalling posting about this gift, partly because I really wanted to photograph it outdoors on a warm sunny day - wishful thinking even here in Georgia. Secondly I want to write eloquently about the artist and her devotion to her family and her art but she does it so much better here.

I was gifted with this exquisite and exuberant crib quilt just by raising my hand and saying "ME" at the right time. She makes traditional,completely hand made quilts because she simply wants to. needs to.  Her reasons are complex and personal but like any artist, she wants her work out in the world, not folded up in the closet. Alhough it came to me untitled, I'm calling it "Serena's Pride".

the missing weekend

Argh...is it Monday already??  What became of my weekend? It was a blur because I spent the whole weekend in the company of cranky cats. Jim and Colin both had to work this weekend making Saturday and Sunday feel like any other week days. The big outing was a trip across town to Whole Foods where a party was going on..samples of everything under the sun around every corner, even wine.
 
So I got some reading done, cooking, cleaning, and stitching on a few different projects at once - the piece that's becoming the Monster dream and those aforementioned postcards. I decided three was plenty. It's clear to me that on any given day it's either the needle or the pen.

basking

"Now" by Clara Fialho"

Clara Fialho is a New York artist who makes magic on a grand scale, this one is 48"x60".
Nothing like starting a studio day with a little sunshine. thanks Clara!

I want to finish off those postcards  on the machine, but first, I have to find it under an avalanche of crapola but I'm not going to let housekeeping deter a little creative time. The other day a friend of ours who organizes estate sales gifted me with a large bag of really fine table linens, mosly vintage damask napkins. "Smallish" I sighed as I started going through them but after the wash and dry it occurred to me that lots of small things seamed together could create a grand grid, a starting place for whatever comes next.

I've been spending an hour or more each morning writing and it feels as if  I have been working my way down inside a nautilus shell, almost claustrophobic with the isolation of the activity. Writers  really can't just hang a work in progress on the design wall for all to have a look at; editing and rewriting are essential steps. It looks like you have to be a little bit crazy to be a writer and if you're not when you start, you probably will be once you get into it. Today I will get out of my own head for a while.

visiting the past

That's my copy of "Art & Fear" acting as backdrop for the first of what promises to be a slew of potato chips, I mean postcards.

There's a stack of books that need reading and re-reading and reams of research material, now that I stumbled across the online archives of the historical society of my first hometown, Armonk, NY.

I spent hours last night trying to find out if the crossing guard had a real heart attack after I threw myself under the oncoming bus (I really did misread her signals) or just a purple fit of fury after she dragged me out from under the front end of the bus, beat my four-year old ass and sent me on my way to school. Such were my days.

I am derailed and under the spell of the past.