scribble Wednesday

I keep dreaming about great floating drifts of fabric on the wind. Great flags of fiber flapping and snapping. Elizabeth has recently written about knowing one's own taste in art. Her posts always provoke me into paying attention to my thinking (or lack thereof) about my work and I traced my notion of motion series back to my very first visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art when I came around a corner and was knocked flat by "The Horse Fair" by Rosa Bonheur. I almost hesitate to link to it because nothing you can see here on a computer can compare to the incredible reality of it. Over 16 feet wide, it's a river of motion and vigor.I might have been 12 years old at the time and I think I've been looking to capture the motion of life in my art ever since. It's a wonder I didn't become a sports photographer. In place of getting Zone A work into play, I'm lucky to have the time, materials and headspace for the Zone B stuff like crocheted scrap rugs and free pieced lap quilts in simple, MARKETABLE color schemes all set for some Art fair someplace in the future when folks are out stimulating the economy, buying local and appreciating slow cloth (well, slower than store bought) and hand made by artists.

still fiber going on

Yes, I'm still farting around with these little make believes but that's just how it's going to have to be for a while. I don't think I have a piece of hand dyed fabric that's big enough to wrap a grapefruit anymore. Until I can rev up the wet studio, I'll be composing with scraps...hey, just remembered that's how I got started with fiber in the first place. Some excitement - this piece that I made for an early Quilt Art Challenge has been requested for a Day of the Dead exhibit planned for later this year at the Everhart Museum of Natural History, Science and Art in Scranton, PA Guess I better get busy and finish the edges somehow and get a sleeve on it. And tack it down a few places on the skull. Finish the thing for it's public appearance.

The Bicycle

Back before people were asking "What would Jesus do?" or "What would Buddha do?" I was asking my self "What would Jiminy Cricket do?". I am part of an entire subset of Baby Boomers who relied on the Disney insect for their common sense training and the development of a healthy sense of self-preservation. Even before it was trendy, I has a suspicion that my parents were clueless but I would listen carefully to the bug. That being said, here's my new-to-me beach cruiser and me with no beach. Still, I'll wear out the neighborhood and my knees on it now that we can step outside without drowning. Nifty, eh?

The song may be "I'm no Fool" but that was the card that fell from the deck in the full moonlight last night and I find it happily appropriate.

still Babu to me

Here he is, Dallas , the star of the show and serene in the love and protection of his family. Mom  and Dad  are doing fine.

some history please

I fell asleep thinking about the fact that this "new" fabric that I brought home has almost no history unlike the vintage damasks that have taken over my studio in the past year. The label says that it's imported which means it's traveled further than I have but it hasn't lived anywhere or done anything, yet. Fabrics that gets made into garments or other things of utility get to make some history but once we take fabric and make it part of art, things slow down too much. I'm half inclined to drag this piece around with me for a while. Lay it in the parking lot at work. Stuff it in the mailbox. Slam one end in under the trunk lid of my car and drive downtown at night dragging yardage behind me. Colin and Voodoo helped me with these pictures. I just went over to Judy Martin's blog and decided to add this last photo: