Happy FRIDAY!

Of course you know it's this piece of damask that has me spellbound. I may have to take it outside and burn it under the moon. Until then, I'll hand it up on the design wall to spook me from there.

I just got back from errands around town (a few more Magic Cloth Burritos are in the mail!) and I had the oddest experience. I recently took advantage of a coupon and downloaded a few self hypnosis scripts from Wendy Friesen.

Now, before you scoff, remember you are dealing one hard headed bitch here and I will also tell you that I know this stuff works.

Years ago I learned to put myself into a deep, dreamless and refreshing sleep in less than two minutes and wake up in 30 feeling like I had slept soundly all night. A great trick when your baby won't sleep but 10 minutes out of every two hours as Colin did his whole first year.

After all, we tell ourselves stuff in our heads every waking moment. Unfortunately it's not often good or useful stuff.  A good "script" will put you into a receptive (think contemplative, open) state of mind and then offer up positive and/or directed suggestions that you are free to choose or disregard. The whole point is to embrace new and useful suggestions and put them into practice - like making daily physical exercise as important to your mind as it is for your body..good stuff like that.

Anyway, I was driving along with the Ipod on shuffle and one of the scripts popped up and I decided to listen actively for content and ignore the hypnotic induction, after all I was driving. After about a minute I found my self feeling... JELLIED - one hit jellied!

I quickly turned down the sound and focused on the road.  Having these scripts at my fingertips is like have a joint hidden in the bottom of the jewelry box. You KNOW it's going to work but you can't seem to bring yourself to light up.
"What's up with that" is the question to ponder. Have a great weekend. I will.

win some, lose some

I spent most of the morning pushing these pieces of fabric around trying to make them make sense, play nice. It got as far as lots of pins, but not further. Sometimes it just wont fly.



On the other hand "Spill" was juried into Artquilts Lowell 2011

Right now I have to duck and cover. Serious thunderstorms. serious.

ironing

My grandma taught me how to iron. 

Nelly ironed for people back when such services were in demand. Baskets of clean laundry were left on her front porch and in the morning we would sprinkle shirts with water from a stoppered bottle, roll them and tuck them into an enamel pan and put them in the refrigerator. Then she would start in on the things that had been in refrigerator overnight and were scheduled for pickup in the afternoon.

The electric iron was polished and heavy.  Most things came starched from the wash; cotton dresses and skirts with endless pleats, acres of sheets and curtains and dozens of mens dress shirts.

I was entrusted with pillowcases and handkerchiefs once she was certain that I had the important lessons down - never stop moving the iron and, if you had to set it down to sprinkle, you put it on the hotplate and NOT the ironing board. I was allowed two fifteen minute stints of cloth polishing while she sat and watched her TV stories “As the World Turns” and “Guiding Light” with one eye on me the whole time. She never allowed me to iron any of the shirts, a process I found fascinating, with so many steps to the finished product. Everything was stacked neatly back into the baskets they had come from and ladies would stop by and pick them up late in the afternoon.

When I was a teenager my Dad had a job that called for dress shirts and it was my job to get them perfect although he was satisfied to have them on a hangar.

 I was working on one of his shirts the very first time I heard the Beatles.
”She loves you…yeah, yeah, yeah….” was coming out of my mother’s leather bound Zenith portable radio and I clearly remember being grabbed at some core of my brain and looking incredulously at the radio as if I expected it to burst into flames as I leaned over the ironing board. It was the shirt that nearly burst into flames and I had the rotten luck of bad timing as Mom walked into the kitchen just as the smell of scorching cotton snapped me out of it and I lifted the iron off the ruined shirt.

washout day

By now everyone must be familiar with this riot scene - I never tire of it.

Lot's of little things here; embroidered hankies, doilies, bit's and pieces that will all add up to something someday for someone somewhere.


There's that fuggedaboutit blue again!

I'm going to experiment with taking the color down a notch with some of these pieces.

sunday festivities

I mixed a whole new set of colors and set out two dozen mason jars and a dozen steel pans of in the hot Georgia sun filled with pieces of cloth  - an amazing variety of cottons - gauze, terry, flannel, antique linen, cotton jacquard and other things I don't even know the names for beyond old including a vintage Mexican wedding dress that was torn beyond repair. Lots of mysterious yardage undergoing transformation this weekend.

The thing is, I won't be decanting any of these before Tuesday.


Now to try and forget they are out there on the decking waiting.

There are those who will disagree with me but from my experience, batching is mostly baloney when you are using MX dyes.

If the cloth has been well prepped, the dye and the temperatures of everything are optimal, all the color that's going to happen will happen in the first few hours.  

I just won't have the time for all the rinsing, washing and ironing that comes next until Tuesday.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's day to my cool dad!

And Happy Father's day to the co-author of my finest creations.. It's good to be the King!

professional photographer...

...NOT. but I do the best I can in spite of studio assistants ever plotting mayhem and interference.

Can we get on with it DeMille? I have meetings all day.

....where's my damned mark!!

gifts

A wonderful gift from afar (thanks Serena) and two other great fiber finds are pointing  towards a serious dyefest next week. I have a few experiments in mind, soy wax to the forefront, and a need for some large, almost solid colored pieces for an ongoing project.

Have to take a long hard look at the colors on hand and see if I can't move them in some different directions.


That's my velvet shawl in the background.The damask leaves seem to be evaporating after much dragging around and machine washing. The cloth was very old and fragile before I ever dyed it. Repair? I think not....

easy choice...

...after some brief navel gazing, rowdy it is . Let's hope the judges aren't wound too tight and fulla de artiselves.

I think this great bugger needs a sleeve too before I can get a proper shot ...what's today? Merely Tuesday.

There's a pool to be cleaned and chicken to cook.

NOT last nights dinner.

monday morning chaos

the morning light in my studio is dazzling. even the chaos is inspiring.

Another postmark deadline looms this Friday and I'm trying to decide on which six pieces would be good candidates for this venue ,





the small and contemplative things

or the rowdy, big stuff...
Which way to go.

Voodoo

Doo gave us a bad scare on Saturday.

After his dinner he was walking across the floor, froze in midstep, growled quietly and collapsed. His breathing was slow, shallow and labored. I carried him upstairs and made him comfortable on my sewing table, his hang out of late. I feared the worst as his breathing slowed and even stopped once or twice.

Colin and I sat with him for several hours. I made it clear that there would be no rushing off to any emergency clinic - he did not seem to be in pain or distress and, if these were his last moments they would be in quiet comfortable surroundings with people he knew. Sweetie even jumped up on the table to investigate. 

As darkness fell, I moved him to my bed where he has been sleeping  at my feet all week. In fact, he has been uncharacteristically under feet and hands for a week or more, insistently demanding attention and biting once it's given. Something has been coming.

While I watched he fell into a deep sleep. Jim and I discussed where we would be digging a grave for him. I fully expected that when I woke up, he would be gone. Colin and Jake both got home sometime after midnight and came in to see how he was, waking me.

As I awoke, Voodoo got up, gave a big Halloween cat stretch and looked around as if to say "What the Hell are y'all looking at?" He was a little unsteady at first but took himself downstairs, and wanted out. I went with him, worried that he would take himself off to commune with Nature in his last hours, as cats will.  Instead, he did his business in the weeds, marched up the driveway to consult with Karma and Juicy who were doing guard duty, and then set off purposefully around the back of the house for the rest of his patrol. I let him go.

A few hours later (it's 2-ish now) Voodoo came back in and announced himself to Jim who was up doing paperwork and led him back upstairs and where he hopped back up by my feet to spend an uneventful night.  When the time actually does come, and it will for all,  I hope it goes this smoothly.