glory days

I only got about a third of the new hand dyes ironed. It was just so hot at that task, but the results were making me dizzy.

The older damasks can look pretty frowsy fresh out of the dryer or off the line. Line dried, they are stiff and scratchy and you have to be careful with the iron lest you catch a fold in the point of your iron and rip it. The ones from the dryer remind me of a bad hair day- limp and fuzzy.  Once ironed, they become smooth, shiny and with some color combos, iridescent.

Yesterday I took The Creatives and two of the Karmas to Kinkys and made a series of new reprographs.

They are quite startling in person. An elderly Asian gentleman was standing by waiting on a woman who was busy feeding a pile of documents into the printer next to the one I was working.

 He stepped in to observe as the machine spit out the one I am holding in this picture and broke into a broad smile. He could see the edges of the back of the cloth lapping out from under the machines cover but he couldn't get what he was looking at until I took it out and turned it over to show him the original.

He was holding the print and said "You sell?"

I nodded "Yes."

He said "You keep cloth?"

I said "Yes" and smiled.

He threw back his head and cackled and said something in a foreign language to the scowling woman hard at work over her copies. She scowled harder  and I imagine his remark was something along my Goodman's joke about prostitution. "You got it, you sell it, you still got it!"


Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the mailbox garden sprung me a surprise. The morning glory seeds I planted showed WHITE flowers on the package.

summer patterns

The days fall into the comfortable rhythms of summer.

No matter how late I'm up, I try to get up early before it gets too hot out, and take advantage of the light in the studio for some hand stitching.

Some chores, some errands and then, it's pool time. I clean it, swim and then read until lunch, then I have to nap for an hour and then, the day job until one in the morning. There's lots of time for doing but precious little for thinking.

I had to forsake the studio this morning and spend two hours at the Honda dealership while they did something to the passenger side airbag so it wouldn't kill the passenger.

They  have a big fancy waiting room which was filled with people poking at and mesmerized by their devices or sitting stricken and slack jawed while the gizmos sucked juice from the outlets lining the walls.

I brought the river basket with me and starting working on the Creatives and, although the adults in the room eyeballed me like I was throwing the bones or some other form of voodoo, three little girls lined up very politely and quietly in front of me. No questions, just big eyes in faces full of wonder and giggles when I popped it out of the hoop to show them the whole thing. I have a nice project for this piece that I'm excited to move on asap.

There are lots of stars yet to be hung in the sky and the blue horse waits patiently.

more critters

Sometimes the best things just fall from the sky, or in this case, the shelf.

Sweetie has decided that the back corner of my stash closet is a better option than under our bed for the duration of a thunderstorm.
She climbed up there and made herself some room by pushing a small, forgotten basket of snips out into space.  As I picked everything up, this half dollar sized piece of old cloth said "use me or suffer the consequences" and I had to drum up a body to go with it - in fact there are three new additions to the Creatives.

Another piece is probably in order.

Before I was a telecommuter I used to take stitching with me to the office where it was allowed as long as it didn't interfere with the business at hand. I used to use my cubicle wall as a design wall. I got a LOT of things done there but almost none since I started working from home even though  the work computer is in the studio. The light and ergonomics for hand work is all wrong but that will be remedied soon.

We will be giving the spare bedroom a makeover, boxing up a lot of CRAP and then moving the workstation in. With a few changes to the layout, I should be able to resume the nasty habit of doing three things at once while becoming the night shift neighborhood busybody and some clear purpose will be established in the studio.

An old school Friday

 

Once the sun comes over the ridge, I'll start documenting this batch of threads - the Independence. 

Beyond that reference, I'm forcing myself off of social media, any "e" for that matter, except email. I can only account for myself and my immediate loved ones these days. 

Callous some might say. What good am I to the world if I am overfraught and cranky. Scratch my surface (and the world has been scratching) and you'll find Kali. I worry that she burned herself up from the inside out and wasted her potential. 

This last lot of threads has an impossible-to image iridescence. I take comfort in the fact that people usually tell me that they are even better in person than any photo can convey. Good luck taking pictures of Kali's fire.

A good number of them go through three or four color shifts and, for once, I know why. Those new gloves! For the first time, I'm using nitrile gloves. The medical-grade blue, large fit my oversized mitts snugly. Once clumsy grabs became precision picks. A great deal of the color character comes from handling. The old food-grade gloves called for as little touching as possible. The blue gloves let me touch and guide the process in a new way and the results speak.

I've also sprung a bit of whimsy. The utilitarian lumpage of cusspots has evolved into these little headless devils, recalling  the Creatives.

They lift my heart.

the Creatives

 I've been following Mad Men again and thinking about how the executives talk about the "creatives" as if they were a herd of witless critters that needed to be whipped into some kind of frenzy to lay eggs or artwork.

The suits seem to have no appreciation for the people make something out of nothing.

I spent the morning playing God -bringing eyes, teeth and tongues to the blind and toothless. A few wings too.

Now, there's a garden and a pool to tend.

one minute to next

I snipped those little test stars out of the base and set them in around the Creatives. They are now either food or toys. Looks like home; everyone is busy.

The summer rhythm is paying off.  I finished the top this morning but I want to face it with another piece of white cloth and then hand quilt it just to keep the layers in order, give it a little substance.

I am reading a couple of  "how-to" books about writing. Who am I to sneer or giggle at the thought of learning something from a book, even if the title is "This Year You Write Your Novel"  by Walter Mosley. More inspiration than instruction, I also return over and over to Anne Lamott and Stephen King. It helps to have your own personal rah-rah club when you are writing. Today I read one page, put it down and then wrote four pages of spectacle - spontaneous human combustion is rarely spontaneous. Four pages is a good day.

the next day

Christmas was all he hoped for and more!
We gathered over brunch, exchanged small gifts and mostly just watched his delight in getting "Just what I wanted!"

I got to come home to a warm house and a productive afternoon and evening in reflective solitude. I gave me the gift of several hours of focused writing with zero distractions.

Like a lot of creatives, I kid myself that I work best with something in the background. It may be ok while roughing things out, first layouts, designing, first drafts, but when it comes to the hard work- revision- I have to be fully present to hear the errors echoing in my head. Hear them, call them out for the shitbirds they are, and kill them, even if it hurts.

So often, with old TV shows or music in the background giving me that creative white noise, I spent hours positioning and pinning bits and pieces of color until there was just nowhere else to move.

Then, with "The Sopranos" or "You've Got Mail" playing across the room, I'd move on to basting obsessively, and even hand-stitching until, hours and materials wasted, another UFO is born.

Not this time.

the Creatives

Nothing yak or picture worthy from me here, but I know some talented folks.

I know a lot of my readers are into the Day of the Dead or they have grandchildren, either way,

 this design from Pug- Mother Bamboota is time sensitive and will sell like hotcakes!

(That price was only good for one day...still it's a nice design)

And now for your ears and your brain, the latest from #1 son Colin.

 "Starlight Abyss"  promises a different kind of meditation. There is another movie score in the works as well!

And one more maker for today - a smile maker! This little Hambone has been perfecting his charms.

Was he laughing at Nana's jokes? Nope. He was laughing at the baby in the phone!

Eatsies

I was watching a video of a ladybug who appeared to be playing with some tiny sugar sprinkles. At first it looked like a one-bug soccer game. Then it occurred to me that the poor bug was probably trying to eat the things, inappropriate as they were.

While I was getting ready to back and face the Creatives 
I started imagining that they were bored and hungry so I pitched some food/toys into the story.

I can almost hear the growling and the squeals.

(too much "Madmen" I think)

fry for now

The Fish project is coming along. I started digging in the closet just to see what is actually in there. Holy Crap!  That request I put out for white goods?? Don't go crazy.

I pulled one box from a high shelf and the bottom broke...a blizzard of white goods is now up for review for a round of soy-resist and dye tomorrow, weather permitting.

There were boxes and baskets of things that are going into the Fat Baggies blend. Of course, I took first dibs. It's funny how one's taste will change. Stuff that I used to hoard for myself will now be up for grabs.

 I found small baskets of treats and wonders that just fell into place for an as-yet unclear vision, but I know I want to hand applique and embroidery  -  think in terms of the Creatives. Critters just doing what they do when no one is looking, just like people.