Follow this link for directions and more information:
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/harvest-craft-bazaar-tickets-27011961504
Looking forward to seeing you.
As ever, stay hungry and curious.
N. A. Jones |
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I just wanted to send you a personal invitation to the Harvest Craft Bazaar this Saturday. The show goes on whether rain or shine. If you have the time please feel free to come and stop by the booth this year. I will be having an Inventory Reduction Sale at the price of 30% off all merchandise or walk away with your season's gifts by making me a solid offer on current merchandise. The bazaar runs from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. this Saturday October 1, 2016. There will vendors throughout the building and outside. A can't miss is the bake table filled with homemade candies and baked goods.
Follow this link for directions and more information: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/harvest-craft-bazaar-tickets-27011961504 Looking forward to seeing you. As ever, stay hungry and curious. What happens in moments of lucidity between sneezing fits: Hubris. I'm getting a little slow and a little tired. Still, small bouts of boredom between resting lead me to paint. I'm putting aside what I can for the next few days. Regaling the small adventures in a couple of weeks no doubt.
As ever, stay hungry and curious. Pride. I guess I railed against Athena far too long. I know what it means to elevate yourself above the Gods. Hubris and insanity amount to the sum of it. I have seen three spiders up close in the past twenty-four hours. I stood there talking when suddenly they made their presence known to me. One on the porch door, one on the tall tomato cages in the garden, the other slipped into the shower late this afternoon. Three is the charm if I remember correctly. If anything, I heed Arachne, especially after a keen talking to under the drill of my dentist. She told me to wear gloves when gardening. You never know where they are hiding. All of a sudden my paranoia resurged while outside. Still, I heeded the warning and wore gloves. Mother on the other hand says she is not afraid of spiders. She does what she wants. Friend asked me if the spiders jumped on me. I told him they did not. I killed only one. Still, if Athena sends Arachne ahead of her, what do I need to be prepared for? It feels like the only weaving guild that mattered is coming for a visit. Getting things in order is tantamount and structuring this last breakthrough will be a labor of love as well. Praise Athena. She is my hand’s guardianship as well. I must be discovering the right questions. They are the questions that only a master knows the answers and counter questions to. There are more notes to take this weekend. Definitely soon before I lose it all. For my own sake, I have missed several introductions to parts of an essay. Ten minutes after the dark settles in after I lay down, the words come. I am groggy and cantankerous. I do not want to write. I let the moment go and bitch about it in the late afternoon the next day. I will write it. I have no worries about that.
So, if you recall Athena cast her wrath upon both Arachne and Medusa. In both mythologies, the suffered extreme defeat. Seeing three spiders has me wonder of an omen, a calling card, or just a change in seasons. I began looking very carefully at a dream catcher I set to cure over a year ago. It is time to weave. I remember collecting wood in the forest to build a loom about eight years ago. I had the frame, but the hardware to secure it. Hmm. Come to think of it the little looms I have built may come in hand this winter. So will a little study of spider woman. A refresher read of some classics calls me to order as well. I do not walk into as many spider webs as I use to when I was younger. It must be an increased understanding of light on solid that preserves my sanity from walking into a sharper bite that may do more damage than canine molars. I realize you might say sewing is a world apart from weaving, but I do not agree. For me it is all strings and things in an out of a warp. Pushing, pulling, needling, and stringing all have some relationship. Despite the occasional dream about spiders, I have not pursued them as a totem animal as I should. I am taking my lessons slow and simple. What I can learn on my own carries more weight than a definitive tome of anything. I see the webs before I walk into them. I may not know where the eight-legged mistress sits, but I can be wary of choosing another route or doing battle. I used to see large black spiders about the size of a tank walking down the street. That is definitely fuel for day mares thanks to 1970’s sci-fi films. Hubris for Athena tells me not to rest my search with just the plants in their vitality and decay. Mother’s battle with the rats, field mice, and tomato blight are just as vital to working through this malaise called allergies and depression. I only wanted to know my grandmother late in her life when the memories are widdled down to a color or a “Yeah, that sounds familiar, but I am not sure”. There is expansion in this Not that I have come to a roadblock. Hubris has been one of the most fruitful pursuits I have had in a long time. Anticipating Athena’s arrival, I have to think this through. Well, 1) There are more pictures to take; 2) Does the pursuit deserve a diary of reflection, analysis, and decision-making? 3)Color palettes need shift with the seasons? On the other hand, should the change come with the seasons of my heart and memory? ; 4) I may have hit on something bridging generations as mother has done the lion’s share of work into the garden. What I can conclude is that she will be a part of the series eventually. Still with her, interiors reflect that mind set better; 5) Visiting other gardens is in order. Gram used to grow sweet potato vine and carrots in the window of her apartment. Mom has planted sweet potato and red (?) potato slips in large containers all over the section of the flower garden. They are running all over the ground in through the fence. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I did not go to writer's group last night. I rest and ate very little except for my white chocolate chunk cookie with macadamia nuts. Sorry, I did not leave you a crumb. Check out Wal-Mart's bakery though. You will find them there. I am managing the throat thing, the sneeze thing, and the mucous thing as best as I can. I wanted to rest today, but got pulled out of the bed by frustration. Thus and so, I painted. Check out Hubris. I added six more and there will be more in the next two weeks.
Call it my offering for the Equinox to remember this year's garden. I'm anxious to take another pass in the garden with the camera. Drawing plein air make no sense with my allergies and sickness flaring the way it is. Also please forgive me dear friend who suggested I stay out of the garden this year. My mother put so much work into this year, I could not help but be stunned by the growth and attraction of insects and rodents. The shaped, the colors, mother's tales of fighting off the rats all made this photographic attraction important for me to remember. I think I'll be out there as the plants turn with the season. More shapes and autumn light. The palette will get colder as I pursue the plants' life cycle into the new year. I'll have to be Johnny on the Spot if she clears by the first signs of ice. No doubt this will be my life as long as I live. It will be nice to have a pursuit, nee ritual, firmly ingrained in my mind even if I become depressed at ago 64 for some reason. Field trip to other gardens are definitely in order. I'm not Monet at Giverny, but I am slowly catching on to his drive. Observation and documentation of the natural world will sit on my desk shortly. Old guard artist, nee scientists of ancient orders. I'm stuck on a warm palette right now. Thinking about going cold makes my spine cringe. I have roughly two weeks left to paint then I am back to quilting. Its the show chair's them I'm finishing out by December. All through my head at night I have been contemplating the quilting. I have a notion, a tack, and sketches to make before then. For now I am understanding how the calendar of production will run for the coming years. I may have to excuse myself from producing two quilts a year for competition. Handmade is were I sit right now and that averages out about 10 months for me, not including the design research and preparatory drawings. That is complicated by some exploration I want to make next year. I'll have to put aside a gold coin or too to pay for Interlibrary Loan postage. Gotta love the library. FYI: I've been cleaning up this site. Still, I have more to do. If you wish to explore, please do. Hunger is pinching at my stomach. Must go. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I'm sick. Sore throat and low energy since Friday. I've got writer's group tonight and I haven't had anything but a bowl cereal. Food and rest is in order till it is time to leave. Hoping to post again soon.
As ever, stay hungry and curious. I.
This is my recant before taking Sabbath. Kinko's rocks! I decided to have them print off the templates after all. The kicker was each page was less than fifty cents. Thanks to that, I had them print my whole file. To top it off 11" x 17" is in my price range to have them pull a larger edition than the last. What it does come down to is making the templates disposable if necessary. I argued with myself about trying not to be a benefactor to a land fill, but the low cost is making it flexible to make a run every month if necessary. Hey! I can use what disintegrates over time for fodder for paper collage. I do not prepare papers as much as I use to, so reclaiming the templates for larger work is definitely in order. II. Thanks to putting aside quilting, I have an opening to paint the rest of this month, so I am taking advantage of my time. I started in on Hubris again and seem to be rendering emotion as well as intellect. Grieving is pulling greys and greens from my palette. Meanwhile I feel the need to check on Dad. I wonder about pride, falls from grace, and the hero's journey for my mind's sake. For some reason I think I am strong enough to deal with death, but humility keeps me under reigns until I can understand what has happened. The missing limb is not reality yet. I keep reaching and continue to grasp nothing. So, I let my subconscious take the lead. I'll keep painting. There is no point in arguing against that. III. Pulling books off the bookshelf and from under the bed to tame the evenings into late nights is becoming a habit. Friday into Monday will have me drawing from tomes, reading selections, writing another sub-chapter, and editing through the night. The benefit will be to take a break from the past week's efforts and get through my library books before they are due. IV. Lastly, The notion is now fully bugging me. I need to write out my thoughts on decay before I move on. If I do not, I think I am going to trip up some dormant process of investigation and understanding. Should something come of it, high brow or low, I will post. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I wonder if my classmates pitied me at all. It was my first year as a degree-seeking student and I was perpetually short for cash. To brace the storm I tended toward school grade supplies and making my own everything. The books I found in the library gave me a plethora of recipes to resort to in lieu of Dick Blick and Utrecht. My chemical mixes were inferior to the rest of the class, but I got through on a dime and a prayer. Those recipes from book dated back through the 1960’s are saving my ass right now. I could make templates at Kinko’s, but I am opting for the patience of handmade and durable. I can shoot for performance grade right now by building the shells with what I have in the studio. Former visiting professor Ben Rubin’s lessons in choosing oil and acrylic paints fill in the rest of the way. I will buy professional grade when the commissions command it, meanwhile I will focus on sound construction and composition. The conservators can figure the rest out after framing.
So, I printed the paper templates this morning. Mounting, cutting, and testing come tomorrow if I focus in on Friday’s task list. To say the least I am happy and my mind leans toward a few more things. Fired seven years ago, like many in the unemployment deluge, I leapt at the workforce commission’s aid. After a while, I found futility the rule of the day, so ingenuity had to arise. I started a game with myself to brave the numerous rejections and rampant solitude. I called it “Doing ‘D’ on Zero”. How could I keep myself busy without spending money other than puttering around the house? I had to find anything and everything I could do or a place I could be without spending a dime on goods or services. If I spent anything, it would be under a dollar. I can tell you I made gratis into several nightclubs only to be thrown out for not drinking. I have equally walked over 40 miles round trip to see the beauty of the night in other cities. Mind you, I was not carrying a gun, a taser, or a bottle of pepper spray. I was able to maintain safety and sanity without a pimp or a police officer. I never had to offer myself. In fact, the kindness of others stopped in the middle of the street and offered to drive me to my destination. I never had so many in-depth conversations with strangers in my life. I am not likely to forget them either. I will throw you a small bone. If there is a Starbucks in your town try this: Purchase a tea bag and ask for a Venti cup of ice water. Let it brew at the bottom and sweeten if you choose. Remember one thing with this restaurant, they charge for hot water. Before I started in on the cold water, Starbucks still let hot water go to customers free. I got accustomed to making drinks with free hot water by mixing it up on the sweetening bar with chocolate powder or nutmeg and milk. Two restaurants that never charged for hot water are IHOP and Denny’s. Since my last unemployment days through becoming a paying customer now, I ask for honey, lemon, and hot water. There never is a charge. I will pass on other stories in brief come later posts. I hope that they can lend a fellow starving/impoverished artist and artisan assistance. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I am battling gremlins confirmed as of nine this evening. One is a man and the other a woman, both hell bent on hating people who write or read. I am a librarian at the core so that is a blade strike in both directions. At any beckoning of the muse, I hear her scream that she is going to stop us all from writing. Friend figures some newspaper must have scripted her antics long ago. She is paranoid not of gossip but of the word becoming real to others. Putting any language in print must signify truth in her mind. Meanwhile the hex in question is also a writer. He wants to be the only writer in our ‘burb. Meanwhile he does not publish or compete during playwriting season. On the contrary, he chooses to write scripts that neighbors perform in an everyday setting. I assume his core is rooted in daytime soap operas. Why do I conclude that? Because some days the dialogue and storylines are that juicy.
I started in on an essay about two days ago, but I have been writing it in my mind for about four months. It took all my energy just to sit down and focus on the first sentence. Those evenings the first words refused to manifest in my mind after nights of dictating it to my subconscious. Friend to me to let it go until I was ready. So, I slept through summer not writing much because of two writing blocks: the gremlins and the first words. It is a good thing that I write backwards starting with mid-chapters then fleshing out fore and aft. I control the plot development better that way. I have not yielded completely to outlining everything to minutiae, but one day I might. Today it was the essay and Hadae Nabis. I have not written much except typing tarot notes. The essay may yield to a larger series of chapters in a format that mimics the Major Arcana. I feel the need to approach Rider-Waite’s Major Arcana as a confession and analysis of my life thus far. It is a different tactic for a memoir, but it will also help me gather more depth with the cards as they lay in the spread. There is the notion that we all experience some of the same trial and tribulations as humans. I am counting on my experience to help me connect with others while the classic definitions still reign in and give context to reading others and myself. I do not plan to bulldoze through the approach. Taking my time and including other studies will put me fairly in Thales venue, “Know thyself.” As I was talking with friend, he let me fall asleep while he gathered his thoughts. I wandered back into earlier today as I prepared paper for Hubris. Think through the design and technique, I reach a point of frustration and then it happened. Breakthrough! I have been through these magazines repeatedly never realizing why I was attracted to the templates and paint on fabric. I just started using photographs for templates in the sewing. The breakthrough came with preparing paper as well with the same designs. I can thank the book I bought at Michael’s for that. I read the sections on art journaling, stamping, and stencils at the top of the evening. Now, a few hours later, the approach minds Matisse’s cut outs but no derivative accusations will fly as far as I am concerned. Since then, I have done nothing but paint in my head and tell friend to quiet because I am in the studio of my mind. Now all I need is to construct a gallery and invite clientele. (Both my parents are root in creative visualization. Thank you Shakti Gawain. I do not think it can hurt as long as I couple it with real world effort and application. Yeah, that is me. I do not hesitate to espouse, “God helps those who help themselves.”) So, I have a new task and a new approach to keep Hubris alive and fresh. Though one day I am positive I will have to deal with decay as a concept in art. It is not so much the order of shock and the end of mortality. It is not a subset of enjoying freedom in spirit. It is not about the living at all, though that is an important angle to consider. All I know is time as a concept moves in that space as does erosion, attachment, and the shade of light that make a difference in a penumbra to an umbra. I refuse a solid black canvas and I refuse that there are places in the universe that light does not exist. You may sway me under a dark moon, but my faith hold the metaphor otherwise. As ever, stay hungry and curious. It almost completely slipped my mind. I'll be at the FUMC Harvest Bazaar on Saturday, October 1, 9 a.m.-4 p.m.
I know this can be a busy time of the year, so if you have the time, feel free to come a visit! The baked goods table and the raffle are both worth coming out rain or shine. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Check the links: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/harvest-craft-bazaar-tickets-27011961504 http://fumctc.org/bazaar/ Two new quilt patterns are up under Projects. I may not post more until mid-October or later. Meanwhile I may take this lull as a means to read for business and personal sake. Today has been a busy day and reading may cap it off just right. Meanwhile painting is floating the back of my mind. I have to let that wait, something spark and take precedence before sundown. As ever, stay hungry and curious.
It has been a hot minute since I wrote. Well, at least it feels like it. To my mental register the world hasn't changed. It is just that I am shifting obligations and goals for the month to the point of functioning through back to back tasks. Needless to say I am tired, sore, and sleepy. I've taken on a little bit of research for a family member and I am gaining new skills because of it. Strange how that interview with a headhunter years ago yield a new vista for me of research that is not taught in graduate school. This mark make number two. God knows I need to take notes for posterity. I may need this knowledge come age 67 to get that tidy sack of cash and change.
The nights are starting to rack up with books and writing. The muse seems not to be calling lately. he lets me sleep. While my neighbor fuels my attentions and fascinations with tales from abroad and fascinations from his brain to linger in mine. He respects my creative oddities around the clock. How could I not call him friend? The boon is also because of him and a few others. I was inundated with tasks and deadline started to give me hives. I could not prioritize out of my fog. I've made it through about two weeks with help. I haven't fallen or become sullen and deeply confused. I've even taken on another task. The original complications are being worn down a little every day. I am quietly happy. I even have a master list to gather for crafting for 2017 shows. I may be shifting away from fine arts for next year because of it. Still, who am I kidding, Hubris will be the mark for the next few years. I'll maintain the drive one way or another. Last notations move me onto writing and the latest in art magazines. I'm hyped for more art brut and a reading lesson by the way of Mircea Eliade. Digging in where I know something started for me, even if the spark flew before I turned twenty. Some curiosities never walk away. They just stoke the fire with anticipation and waiting. Meanwhile primitive tool, industrialization, and technical wizardry sits in the wedge of the crack in my tooth. Right now I don't know what i have read let alone swallow about our current century. I seem to fantasize about Modernism way to much to understand what is in contemporary galleries and museums. My mind is caught in the well of poverty that I draw my work from and assume is relevant. Walking galleries as a benefactor seems earth shakingly away from the street hooker in day wear on a slow Tuesday. I think I am starting to ramble on with nonsense. I cannot quite articulate my point, but it seems wrapped up in art for the masses and museums as repositories for that faith that certain beauties should be held in common. Despite my understanding of operating costs and overhead I never want to see a museum turn someone away because of cost. Getting there is half the battle and being shown the door is a abrupt end of exploration and growth. Forgive me, old battles linger in my eyes. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Wasu Wasu
Wasu wasu (clap clap clap clap) I have come (clap clap clap clap) Wasu wasu (clap clap clap clap) To watch the work (clap clap clap clap) Wasu wasu (clap clap clap clap) Come undone Wasu, wasu, wasu, wasu Side winder Wasu wasu Across the floor Wasu wasu My life is gone Wasu wasu Forever more Wasu, wasu, wasu, wasu Bit at the ankles Not the tit. His teeth chew my feet And succumb to spit Wasu wasu Where you roam (clap clap clap clap) Wasu wasu Never a home (clap clap clap clap) Wasu wasu I have come (clap clap clap clap) Wasu wasu To watch the work (clap clap clap clap) Wasu wasu Come undone (clap clap clap clap) Wasu, wasu, wasu, wasu Heel to head Wasu wasu Scatter side Wasu wasu Beneath the sun Wasu wasu In a straight run Wasu wasu In the guise Wasu wasu Of human flesh Wasu wasu Ne’er repeat, never fail Memories grinding from head to tail Wasu, wasu, wasu, wasu ©N.A. Jones 2016 All Rights Reserved The second batch of notes (Mixed Media Quilting Notes II) is posted under the Centrifuge Tab in Projects.
As ever, stay hungry and curious. More patterns are posted under Studio Notes. Please note that I am switching to a format of a detailed diagram. My skill level runs on small notations, coloring, and plenty of time. Not to forget I've been encouraged not to make this simple. Thus insulting both of or creativity levels and our need to explore. Note as well to add on a 1/2 inch to each measured length in the files containing Switchback Ivy through St. Patrick's Cross. I forgot to take that into account when drafting late last night. Please, forgive me. I should have three larger sketches for those three quilt sometime in the following week. I plan on formatting the sketch as 11" x 17" to print. If you have any questions drop me a line at [email protected]. Put the word "QUILTING" in capitals in the Subject heading.
As ever, stay hungry and curious. |
N.A. JonesPicking up where I left off. Archives
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