A friend told me she's proud of me. I'm living the artist life bold and full. I am living the creative life and all that it holds. She is a writer and understands the trials and tribulations of creating. She also know the phrase " I just don't feel like it" doesn't measure up to any task. So I say kudos to her for recognizing the dark days and waterless wells from which I draw. The quip in my mind is that i may be out of water, but there is wind power in this paradigm. I also have to remember that beauty no longer rules the day. It is relevance and being well crafted. It means to me to take part in the political and social landscape. I'm not a pundit, but in terms of culture wear and tear, I should find a well laced comment out of my oeuvre. It is time to grow up, but I see no need to lose my fascination machines. Hmm. They too may have something to say about the current affairs of art. But before I go and get my lip busted, I should anchor in my surroundings even if the only way I see the world is on the Internet.
Maybe it is the weather. Maybe it is my reaction to the winds that brought the clouds that brought the rain. My mood shifts with the seasons and the presence of water. I picked herbs from the garden for dinner and got a little wet. Nothing phased me standing where the wind passes through the fenced in yard. The most intriguing always happens through the slats: The oak shelters roots, the grape vine peeks out, and passersby peek in. So I stood under the tree feeling desperate to stay outside. Friend says "no" and tells me to come in,"more important things are going on". The wind passes again and I finally feel like I can breathe. Friend and an early dinner win out and I between the corn bread and the sausage remember today's disappointment: My free motion foot broke earlier round high noon. I had no expectation of an adventure day today, but either way it happened. I took an unexpected trip to Dallas expecting and hoping it would be a no hassle trip. Bottom line? They did not have the part. I'll have to wait two or three weeks for the next order to arrive. Meanwhile she told me that there are people who do the work without the foot. I was game from that point on. The trick of it all, she said, is to keep your fingers from slipping under the needle. Almost an hour later I'm back at home doing the putz around thing after resting. I could not touch my machine. I guess I forgot to grieve. The back story is this is a machine I bought for $10. I put about $75 in maintenance a year. My possessive attitude for it all is that it has zig-zag stitch that can be used for quilting and thread painting. I lose this machine I am purely out of luck until I can save enough for a refurbish. With all the reverse machine applique I do, I refuse to slow my progress and development for any reason. So now I am back to my wish list and my saving list to try to hold off this regular headache. This is not to mention tension issues I've had repeatedly. I'm not giving up. I am not giving up. I refuse to give up. So, the rough twenty minutes before bed, I sit down and test the shop keep's words. I had other problems well up. As a result I am using the all purpose foot to substitute for the free motion foot. Other than that, I bought chocolate for the first time in a few months. Lindt Truffles are tasty. Here hoping this not the beginnin gof another cold. Ack! Focusing on writing through the weekend. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I thought I would catch a break after the craft bazaar. Boy was I wrong. It has been a whirlwind of catching up on messages, grocery shopping, supply shopping, mowing the lawn, and picking up on research I put aside the week before the event. Rest comes in spurts and watering the vegetable garden has started to keep me sane to say the least. I quickly grew tired of being tired and having to forego cooking my own meals. It felt good to get back in the kitchen swing of things. The kitchen is another place to venture out and explore. I have not disappointed myself in a while with my foodie experiments. So much so, I continue to work on perfecting recipes and organizing my collection of recipes and notes. I used to muse about competing for prizes in cooking contests. I think I might venture to find something associated with the state fair. That would be a welcome experience of a lifetime.
While I rested earlier today I had a breakthrough. A small one, but I really was not expecting anything. In the lull before sleep everything comes to my close eyes. I am anxious about building shadow boxes for Daedalus and Icarus. My hanging problems will be solved. Plus, this time I am psyched about developing the inside of the box into an anthropological curiosity. Instead of having clean lines and surfaces in the box, the interior will be painted and/or covered in fabric. More detritus of anything can be added in from dirt to medicine bottles and wrapped sticks. The other framing issue is born from my fascination with layering the small and tall. Weaving are beginning to form in my head in tandem with quilted sections. I have a schlew of wooden dowel rods that I plan on using to give reference to a loom. Painting and collecting for those boxes would give it a kinship with Icarus and Daedalus. The whole problem is cutting the wood and building it flush and flat. Squaring it off has always been a problem for me. Every time I build, squaring the form, has always been hit or miss. The perfectionist in me feels I've wasted my time and the wood. Other times I relax and buy "l"-brackets. Another issue is securing glass on the front. Some might say find someone to build it for you or buy it off the internet. For the first time it dawns on me to find it on the 'net. Meanwhile, my gut reminds me about cost effectiveness and at heart a DIY spirit. I am back at Medicine Quilt III and I have one panel left before I move onto the next series of cut panels. I'm ecstatic! I play my doubts and champion my trials every day with this. After mediating doubts come panel four of this set, I could not help but wonder if the pattern was to simple and too damn repetitious. I played and eventually fought off this burning urge to change the design to a lyrical jazz like staccato. My mind was screaming for more bells, whistles, and drums. It took a lot out of me to sit in my confidence that the design will be powerful enough in its simplicity. On the flip side I made a few insertions no the panels so to not let the eye get bored for even reading across the finished quilt. That decision partially came out of resistance to waste space. Granted the quilting will handle that. I love building tender passages in quilts. It is the part that you rub your fingers across time and time again. Time seems to stop in those moments and contemplating beauty is all you are. Intelligence demands I sketch, meter out, and plan The King's Ransom. Ideas are fleeing from me as quickly as they arrive in the middle of the night. Beyond that I'm in denial about using my sketchbook again. The words "later" and "tomorrow" always eek out. I the fog of getting out of bed and crossing the room to hit the light switch, I always lose the muse. A light in the bookshelf seem apropos, as well as keeping paper and pen close the the bed. Back to task again harvesting everything given. Which also means back to a dream diary. Looks like winter plans are upon me. Got to make sure the tea and cakes land close by as well. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Don't mind me so much. I'm a little discombobulated and sated from a bowl of chicken and rice with yellow curry, not to mention my emotions are a little warn. The good thing is I'm still on track and hold to the plan for dear life. The structure of my days seems to be falling apart. Chalk it up to preparing for the craft bazaar on this Saturday, October 3. I've got electronic checks and packing to do. At least the product is finito. Well, scratch that, I have to package the coloring books and we go to print I think tomorrow. I might as well keep everything at a minimum and easy through till next week. A check list is definitely in order.
Meanwhile, I've been clinging to sewing the mola panels for Medicine Quilt III. I am eight panels deep and at this point I could do this in my sleep. What I know is I need more short sharps to turn that 1/8" better. I found quilting sharps at JoAnn. I still haven't opened the package. I assume they will work just as well as buying in betweens for the same task. I have yet to think through buying the exact equipment I need for a particular task. Accumulating tools as I can afford them has been the rule of the day for decades. On the list is buying higher grade sharps from online stores. I read about one woman buying from a big box store and the sharps would not separate the weave of the fabric. She was stabbing and tearing the image. The long and short of it is that the new needles were blunt. For the past few months I've been living under that horror or snags, burrs, and tears. I keep going cause the work must continue, but I still remain cautious till I can get a more professional tool for the job. Next on my list is to find my sketch of bear sign on a tall pine tree. I reduced the photograph to mark making and put it away for safe keeping. Medicine Quilt III is covered in bird sign, but integrating another nuance to the overall design is bugging me. The naive in me wants a greater variance and more elements of interest. The wise woman in me says stick to first principles and the creative beginning that started this quilt. The sketch reaches into Modern Quilting in a way, which is hot at the moment. Still, I really have no business courting fad and current fashion. My sources are raw nature and the ancients. Beyond that there is something telling about skill in the repetition of a single motif for runs framing a large space. If I can maintain this tack for a few more months the center will be done. I do not want to bulldoze it, because I am learning something of patience and discipline with every stitch. Yeah, you could call the studio is my own little dojo. Handwork is amazing to me. Like the first few months learning how to paint. Controlling brush strokes, before I experimented with mark making, was difficult. The tools I use as extensions of my body was a hard concept. Then I understood the magic from the artist's standpoint. Here I am now with needle and thread learning a new discipline. May the discoveries never end. As ever, stay hungry and curious. My eyes are getting wiggly watching the screen. Sourcing the Internet can be fun, but has its drawbacks. Level three is hitting the library and Interlibrary Loan. My drive says I'll be done by next week. The reality sets in, try several years. It took noted wise ones over five years to do a project like this. Me, I'm gathering from multiple direction and trying to synthesize the random parts. I start typing my 200 some concept list later today for structuring the game design. Meanwhile on the other side I'm creating a tarot deck and learning the ropes over again. I'm happy to say that the structure is nothing like Rider-Waite or others. I'm driven by imagery and the back end of writing to connect the threads.
I'm glad to get back to a challenge I had for myself while in Graduate school. Sorry to miss all the imagery I had collected for those years. Inspiration took over after a visit to half price books and I'm been moving that rock up the hill for five days. I'm enthralled and the research end is fascinating. Standard deck are made of 78 characters. With sourcing images I'm already over that hump in structuring the relationships and development in the cards. Approaching with total abandon, total whimsy and complete dedication to craft. Structuring in my mind as the wee hours went by last night, I figured out a card and found glee, not just satisfaction. So now you know, I'm working on building a tarot deck and a creative deck as well. A welcome award for putting down the needle for a little while. I'll have more to tell as the days go by. The research is also fueling my understanding of a character in my writing. The book that results may be solid in plot and character after all. If you haven't guessed yet, all the art for the deck will be collage. Into the mid-hours and I still haven't eaten. Gotta Go. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I could not wait till the end of the month. I got into this mood earlier this afternoon about finishing out projects that develop over several stages. Cutting the body for Hepailid Moth is next. When I go after the smaller projects and the quick stages I still feel like I've done something versus grounding myself in the next movement of my Magnum Opus. What ever it is that is teasing my emotions and making barriers on my creative flow will leave eventually. I hope. Meanwhile I photographed the first ten of the second study. I may not need to flesh out to twenty, but I do need practice with mark making, calligraphy, and scripting notations. Ruled or blank, i have a new favorite pen, but I'm still partial to collecting nibs. Forgive me. I got ahead of myself and did not post the series to a page. The correction will come soon and the slide show will be in two locations; here and under the tab assemblage&collage. Meanwhile I've got a touch of sewing and cooking to prepare for. Happy Independence Day!
As ever, stay hungry and curious. Please forgive my disappearance yesterday that led to a lack of a post for the day. Between working and cleaning I grew so tired I started sleeping at my work table. The day went on without me (go figure) and I opted for rest as the next day was to be full of accomplishment and trial as well. So without further ado I present to you Jealousy's Private Dominion. I bulldozed the after noon which followed with an early evening photo session; best shots I've ever taken.
What you might ask is about the media and method. The core is needle turn applique and thread painting. The paper supports bring more texture to play with the eye. I finish off with various water media and office products. The title comes from my fascination with Vuillard and Bonnard. If I remember correctly both painted interiors religiousy to the point you wonder what happened in those room to give the artist such passion to render so romanticly. This is series is partially about making presumptions about people's lives. Acts of presumption leads to pomposity, jealousy, prejudice, and covetousness just to name a few. Sooner or later the wishing you were them leads to obsession and an inferiority complex, till you are let in and world and stars shift. Presumptuous lies make for a silencing almost unto death. A life of closed doors and blinded windows comes as grace and your own nest never seems as comfortable as it once was. Hidden jealousies take over and corrode the soul from the inside out. Meanwhile, I'm sketching out a larger version using the same structural motifs. I will not be approaching it for a while; a year or three I am guessing. So, it comes to a close and I am happy. I reached a goal, with a dollup and kind words of hope from friend. He's good at that. Now, I rest for a bit. In the least change gears. Truthfully? From my ears to yours I want to write. I've been lead astray a few days, but I need to finish the mixed media series. No excuse now and I put the timer back on for the last task this month which is working on my Etsy site. I'll make headway I'm sure. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Perchance to dream a very good dream; not one of sugar plum fairies nor of choosing between blue and red pills. Perchance to dream and not feel lost. Perchance to dream and to fly despite this shackle weighing me down like a second yoke set on my shoulders. Maybe this time I won't be confused into thinking that world is that of a waking daywalker. Maybe this time I'll have enough discernment to see where I, my work , and the audience sit in the grand auditorium. Wait. Do I ask too much to have some separation between my waking life and asleep? Being passively resigned in the bed at three in the morning, and already stressed by the former day's events, I hope to be given reprieve to escape from the upper realms of REM and venture, scout, wrestle with angels and be ever the more driven in the will to live as a daywalker noticing the shadow of the sun.
Three dear, precious more days to thread paint. I'm hitting a groove in the first minute and everything follows suit. The pain of perfection sits to the left of the sewing machine. It is a pair of scissors. Yes, it is my correction fluid as much as the machine holds my pen and ink. Explorations in building a varied composition are causing me conniptions as my hand get taken over to resolve problems in progress. That too is a folly. Thinking I'm resolving the piece in one pass under the needle. On the contrary, it is built in several passes, layer, and removals. I forget what I learned to easily over the years. Actually that is a bald face lie. It is still there. I am thankful for memories that teach and well as mentor. Meanwhile I write another lie if I said my progressive mental development doesn't show. I've grown somehow and I wish I could retrace the challenge that prompted me in the last 36 hours. I could calm the slight terror in my chest about cohesiveness in a series, but I am not here to reinvent and repeat the same initial canvas with minor adjustments. If so, I will have learned nothing. Accept all these changes as a sign of development is the only option I have till selling them as singles and not a series. That too would be a mistake. I'm holding on to this and the man's voice that said keep working in series and love seeing how it all develops. Therefore I can only except that an artist must show growth. Beyond the materials, beyond the titles, and beyond the concept. Analysis, application, and yield; I am outside the realm of making a pretty picture. It is almost like being in physics lab in high school; proving concepts by learning how to understand what you see. It may seem tame and minutiae to most, but the time put in with Open Development to teach myself an approach is about as complicated as approaching traditional oil painting. I check the settings every thirty seconds or so and I have to readjust. It is not a nuclear submarine, but my machine is seems temperamental. Or wait is that me? The brainchild for a book came about. I have outlining to do. Thanks to a friend, I'm thinking about pursuing being a essayist for a while. At least till I am ready to sit down and write the books and plays I seem to glimpse into existence for a few month. This not to mention, a play to finish. Keeping limber with needle and word may balance the summer out, finishing Elements of Style and starting a book on writing dialogue not withstanding. It is hot in this room. I believe I'll return to bed. have a good sleep. As ever, stay hungry and curious. It has been a whirlwind of events these last three days ending up with leftover bruschetta, the last dregs of hummus, and a hand full of sliced fruit. Unfortunately I am still hungry and will have to plan accordingly if I'm still awake during the wee hours of the morning. Today was movie night and the viewing area was full. We discussed The Secret and the conversation made wide turns and leaps. You could call it Metaphysical Education 101. You could call it a nice diversion and indulgence compared to not watching television at all.
I have been fighting off the urges to just sit down and vegetate, but voices of good friend chime in and I'm back in the world of art, ideas, and imagination prompted and developed of itself; nothing to do with trade and science commerce and supporting the economic machine. I wonder if I lost my childlike elation and ability to capture it on paper when I was so involved in television and Netflicks. Was it all a matter of processing in 2D what I had seen for weeks on end before? What goes in does come out. If that is true, my old work is awful kitcsh. Maybe not. I'm more abstract than possessing a need to place of canvas what I see in real life. In The Secret there is a memory played out that highly influenced a profession feng shui designer. Her client was an artist who was an Art Director for movies. In his living room he was surrounded by images of lonely wanton unsatisfied women; they were singular in each canvas. Briefly put, she told him in order to change his love life start painting himself with women. I heard nearly the same issue on Oprah decades ago when it came to decorating your space if you are single. If you are tired of being alone, stop collecting images of single women on the canvas. Always make sure there are two people instead. The mind in turn reacts and your life changes. As for me and my abstract penchant, I wonder what the work on my walls means in a metaphysical analysis. So for yesterday I rested and looked for work later, but configuring the new printer took a while. It pretty much bumped me even past my normal journaling time. Friday, I cleaned like mad around the house. On the outside I have mowing to do. It has been touch and go as we've had several days of rain. So I saved my hands and calmed down a bit over this weekend. Since Thursday I've been head down with painting and drawing with thread. Tension issue are getting resolved. I'm reaching a point of more understanding with what I am doing. For as many time as the thread built up or snapped, I am surprised I'm still dedicated to getting this done. Still that is a regular thing I share with you. It seems to be a regular battle trying to learn how to sew with paper. I still find it an accomplishment to bind with glue. So I have that to master as will as finding a medium of usage with glue. Thread is all I want right now and it has to be a knowledgeable and skill approach. I move through each piece in mind with its faults and skills. I can't but hope for seamless solutions right now. I'm really pissed that I am still a mile short of getting the machine and thread to act like my hand with charcoal. Is is to much to ask for it to be easy to slip large pieces of paper under and through the arm with it not tearing? That has not happened so far. "Bend with the wind" is permanently etched in the front of my skull. It has been a struggle for the work to flow this month and the last. Always, always, always road blocks arose. I took energy and rest to rise up again and approach the issue. I'm closer now to fruition. Mental frustration subsides and leaves. I am making it through. I picked up the sketchbook last night. Right before bed in fact. The set was that I would draw out more solution to these canvases. The initial thirty got me somewhere, namely to the sewing machine to finally start. everything seemed to be solve on a simple axis of a cross positioned on the canvas to mimic both depth and immediacy. I was fine with that. Those sketch where born after midnight. They still had viability as I now had somewhere to go. The six that came out last week are spot on in structure, but there is something so simple about them that I dare to call myself nieve and uninformed. Come ten minutes both my self imposed call I revisited my house issue again. All I can tell you is that my perspective changed and I broke more pencil lead than usual. Where I left of on Thursday put a groove in my step and I understood I had a breakthrough; more doors, awkward scaled windows, rows and groupings of houses, arched rooves. It was not just about one house anymore balanced seemingly with its own altar. It is not just about my own property. I see out as well as in. Neighbors really exist and they will open the door to you. Whatever clicked in the last twenty-four hours is making a difference in the layouts I'm still in shock. This is not where I began in my head with all of this. Please don't get me wrong, I sure ain't complainin' As ever, stay hungry and curious. I’ve placed minutiae and pettiness in mental cages to be fed later on today. I had to sleep on these waves of uncomfortability and egotism just a little while longer. Otherwise I would have given in and told. Please don’t confuse these days with a type of confession. It is not forgiveness that I seek, it is the ability to live with memory and accept my tone as a sign of wisdom and age.
Anyway, it is this new series. I constructed and deconstructed in my mind for months in order to approach the series uniformly. Honestly I’ll be damned if every piece in the twenty looks the same. That means I gave up long ago or that this was a cheap shot to maintain some type of momentum in the studio. Lately I’ve been tired. It takes about a month to build up the energy to finish hand quilting what I began last year. I’m thrilled to be close enough to Ganymede to say it is finished. This paper conundrum, on the other hand, has me hinged on jealousy and tempted to scrap the whole thing for the shredder; not to mention finding other wares for the needle turn appliqué pieces I finished yesterday. It has been two weeks in hand everyday and almost thirty to send to garbage dump if I turn tail and run. I cannot throw that much effort away. I can pack it away till I unearth it years later with a decision and direction for it to embody. It is this that I may have mention before. In my mind a former colleague used a house motif to establish herself as an artist. It has been over ten years and her claim, if there truly is one, still lingers in my mind. I’ve been touchy about it, thus over two years in the making for this process. The design is an anchor and the other hinge is using thread painting as I did with the test series Open Development. Projecting out in my head will creating a body of dark thread work over the houses. I tripped over a thought about Nimbocumulous, in other words storm clouds. That puts me back in her territory as well. Forgive my insanity, but I do not want to step on any toes let alone be told to find my own inspiration for work. I come from an intellectual tradition that tends to say, “this is my talent and work, you cannot share the limelight”. Squashing expected competition falls to waiting for your turn. Jibbing, “you’ll get your chance”. So I’ve learned to stay out of the way and relegating practicing other talents to the darkness of my room after three in the morning or in the solitary of the house to take a shower. Whatever the neighborhood knows, I definitely do not want to talk about it. >giggle< So this ever evolving piece that may lead me back to horses shrouded in shadow boxes has been through so many name changes it has only managed to name stake the fact it is a mixed media piece. “Prussian Storm” , “Bipolar Allowance”, “Nimbocumulous”, “ Jealousy’s Private Dominion”, and “House/Home” are a few of the nomers I’ve played with. Of course each piece has its own title, but the series title is an umbrella that brings forth a greater unity for the oeuvre. Seriously? It is getting to me. Maybe it is the weather, maybe it is the tail end of a lot of decision making and work for the past two months. I never thought I would see the end of it. Patience and rest seem foreign and I am officially cranky. I did not want to work today at all. I did not have all the supplies I needed, so a quick trip to Wally world was in order. That done and I could start. So what I could start, I did not want this today. I sat down anyway and started. I bitched, moaned, hated myself and waited for tears. I quibbled over whether this needed to be done at all. Months of working out problem spots and persisting for the sake of development and experience was all I could wonder. I should have logged more carefully with Tin, Cotton, Steel and Spice. You might understand more clearly. It took about a half an hour though and it clicked. Laying the papers caused something to click in my mind. I understood a bit and was thrilled at what my mind was showing me. My method has not changed. In fact it has gotten tighter and more critically placed on the paper. The strategy connects all the way back to Passive Passerine. In the moment of that realization I became so inordinately silly that joy could not help to wash over me. There are days when it is difficult to start and it is not a day regularly taken for Sabbath. It is a normal everyday type of day; a day when I set myself the night before to work diligently come the sun. Today I wanted to walk away so badly it hurt. I do not know what to do right now. Meanwhile, I’ve got a layer of tempera to get down before six. I want to continue, but I’ve got to go. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I've finally hit the edge of the bottom and I'm feelin' a little pain. The last time this happened I started wearing shoes again around the house. The back pain left in about a week, but my morale was low. I love walking around barefoot. I learned to feel from the ground up beginning with my feet from a former close friend. She was always barefoot; year round at that. I tried to take on her skin to snow style, but I was not blessed with thick skinned soles. With the delicacies of my feet getting in the way of being free spirited, I used to fret that I'd never feel the wind at my back crossing the sands at the beach and over the pebbled banks at the lake. The environmentalist in me learned anger when crossing through camp grounds and nary missing shards of glass that would have permanently cramped my style. So I go for broke in the house learning to dodge ice cubes on the floor and threaded needles at he base of my work station.
I've gotten so good at spotting dangerous odds and ends while barefoot, the talent followed me while in shoes. Spotting and scouting out from the entrance to Wal-Mart and the Dollar Store has made me a little richer over the years. Even when I'd take Old Denton Highway via shoe leather express, I always came home a few dollars and cents wealthier. Granted it was not enough for a rent payment, but it was enough to calm the fever of hunger is but for another hour. Another former friend told me about an old Native American eye sight and problem solving test. Take someone out into the middle of a field and take their shoes. They have to make it back to the farm house by crossing patches and fields of stickers, manure, and other dangers; even a field of bees harvesting pollen from clover. I had my shoes in hand and no plan to give them up. I followed through till I could take no more, my patience wained severely. The following day I slowly began to understand there was more to this test than reaching the destination. I try it every now and then I recreate the test just to get a feel for the earth beneath my feet. A connection is created that is like no other. Slowing down and being patient are one way of getting there. Forgive me, but it is not a meditation issue; its connection and relation, it is readjusting our selfishness to commune with the divine. Doc said I'd have arthritis early, I'll get my dig in while I can. So, I've been quibbling like crazy since about four this afternoon. The series I took on last week is begging for a title that is appropriate, but not the reflections of a simpleton. Working up to the first stitch has gone on for over a year. While working I told the neighbor that I feel like I had done this series over a hundred times already. I've worked everything out in my mind and somewhere around here the pieces are waiting to be framed. I am convinced that it is done; I just have to unearth it from storage somewhere in my room. So, it must be the 1,000 time I've approached this series from the first stitch to the final touches. I have not lost my enamor with it today; not quite like the hand pieced quilt. I hit enough walls to know it was time to put it down for a while. If not for the sake of my hands, then the images in my mind of sewing and making corrects over and over again. I am over thirty hours in on the series and in my mind the battle is over. Laying it out is in the sketches which are completed even with alternates. Raising up and tearing down to build layers in a fool's perspective is all that lingers in my mind. That, complex stitch work by thread painting, and the rose wood is all that stands between me and breathing again. Eight hours today. I am satisfied and I know I pushed to hard; not to mention this mental irritation that persists when I approach the desk. Starting has been easy as of late. I tend to get up, reach for the light, sit, and sew. I balk at reading. All I understand is the weight of the fabric between my fingers and when the weight is right I sigh at a turn of the needle grazing my finger nail in timed motion with the radio. Funny, I was remembering Grandma's metronome forcing me to keep pace while playing Jingle Bells on the piano. Timing. timing, instinctual timing, rhythmic timing, syncopated beats. I'll get my back in gear again and definitely dance again, whether alone in my room or at the behest of the moon, I'll find a substitute to flying one way or the other. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Forgot to mention: I was up last night in the early wee hours searching for insect tracks. Last night was the second day I have been trying to make a small reference for all of the stitches I use when I hand quilt. I'm at ten pages now and it is full of everything from Native American symbols turned into embroidery to insect tracks and assorted birds as well. For give me, my mind is everywhere right now and I'm trying to prioritize and continue working without losing quality or sleep. Needless to say I'm ecstatic. Once I complete the sketches of everything I use and interpret the design in basic stitches, I'll be well on my way toward preservation, conservation, and interpretation of the quilts I make. The last hitch is a practice sample and placing in a binder or book. I'm partial to large leather journals, but that is a pretty penny I may be wiser to set towards other things. A three ring binder will suffice for now.
Honestly? I feel like a little researcher. Both degrees come in handy sometimes, especially when I work on my writing. I feel a type of vocation lingering and I'll pursue answering the call. I'm glad I told you instead of letting it go by quietly till later. One of the best joys I had today was looking at Ganymede and naming off most of my quilting patterns and their origins. The inquisitiveness that set in long ago has finally found knowledge and is burgeoning into wisdom. Aside: I was warned once not to stick with Texas butterflies for the quilts. I was told twice to bridge out and not be afraid. So goes the elements of the insects. They are all from different regions across the United States. He also said not to set in on a quilt with only Texas insects. It is like he knew I was trying to build a collection that was gilded on regional aspects. Not yet, not yet, not yet. After then it has been removed from my mind before becoming a painful thought in regards not only to collection fabric but the making sure the general research that makes in into being is cohesive and relevant. In other words a lot of think would have to go into designing, more than I have the patience for then and even now. Next pass at sleep coming up. As ever, stay hungry and curious. My head hurts a bit, but I finally made it to the kitchen to cook. I nice bowl of homemade spaghetti with clam sauce. I have yet to buy a small bottle of white wine, so I substitute vodka for the portion of alcohol. The dish always brings me peace of mind especially when I make garlic toast.
Today, technically, was supposed to be a day off. However thanks to the chapter on good versus bad obsessive behavior, I've been acting on every impulse. The main part was starting in on my checklist for craft season. One of which is making earrings. I got a polite request last year after the show. My drive about it only lingered for a day here and there while figuring out tools and techniques. Today was the day it all made sense. I've got 24 pairs ready to package. They are made of simple cuts of leather with silver findings. The next batch is made of leather and recycled metal. Those I am hoping will be straight forward in construction as well. There is no pricing structure, everything is $5.00 plus tax. The hoot for me is that the materials are on average 60% reclaimed/recycled. With the cloth grocery bags and book marks, I'll have more solid additions to my stock. I usually do not start sewing/crafting for seasonal work till May/June, but I got inspired and the drive has not left me. I'm understanding Maisel more and more with every passing day of reading and applying his techniques. Understanding my creative intellect will no doubt help in keeping production on an even meter. I remember my professor sitting down with me at the end of the day in my studio. He loved the work, but he was worried. I ran like a kitchen faucet, some days hot other days cold. I had no steady rhythm or drive. I understood that without that, I may not make it through graduate school. I may have had the same problem in college. Prof told us all one day about a famous artist is Europe who's work had come to a stand still. Nothing, absolutely nothing inspired him nor did he have the desire to work. Eventually he hit rock bottom and decided to find something, anything to do. He went to a local hotel and paid for residence for a month. Upon settling in and stewing in his room for days, he ordered room service as he had become accustom. The bell boy brought in his tray of food which included tea and oranges. As he set it down, something clicked in the mind of the artist. He played with and shifted the oranges and tea around the tray. Next he pulled out ink and a pen. He drew for hours, splitting the still life to position it around the room. He drew that way for weeks to the creative block evaporated. So, yes, I too work through the low points and turn to other techniques to find my way through the dark. I got permission today to make bad art. Well, no so successful art. Work the the so called problems and make it an issue of mastery not pretty pictures for money. (There is a formula and approach for that direction.) Mastery means you know how certain issues arise that detract from solid work in and out. I decided I want to be there. I want to be that refined and that knowledgeable. Meanwhile I've got prints to pull this week as well as some seriously sturdy bags. One more series blossomed in my mind and a request to go larger from now on. I bitched about storage, but the inclination seemed sure I'd find it. I'm guarded about all this collage and works on paper. I was told long ago that a market like that is in Europe. There are collectors for that there. The American market is for painters. Especially those who can buy and immediately hang at home. Something to consider again, but not to let it stifle me in the studio. I'll let my vision soar and then slowly tack it down to work all angles. One such as finding the paper market in the U.S.A. Off to check how tacky the ink has gotten, twenty four hours should be more than enough time. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Let's clear the air or in the least handle old curiosities you might have.... I started blogging every day not just to lubricate the machine to making writing easier with other endeavors, but also to humor a request from a friend from afar. It seems that even without names or titles I am willing to go the long route when it comes to being creative. Finding a community were I can be more than a social flutterby on high has been appealing as well over the past five years. It is not so much for sales, but for camaraderie and understanding. The mind develops in so many directions under pen, pencil and brush. You may get lost in the forest or drown in the sea your writing has succumb to for the heroine the next scene. It is like taking on transcendental meditation or a multifaceted path to becoming a shaman; all this with no teacher, mentor or guide. It is easy to get lost and make the same mistake when the monster demands his toll. With what tools do you fight? Which way do you run? Always wondering will I get past this? Mentors and practicing communities can be skilled at navigation through bullshit. Seems I am my own harbinger for the next challenge. I'll deal with it in patience.
Baked a cake last night. Forgive me oh muse, it was a box cake. Though I whipped up frosting a la Hershey's Special Dark box. Getting through this cold will need a little sweet to make it bearable. A visual blessing this afternoon as I trekked onto the Pharmacist was falling snow. The laced weeds peeking though the first layer of snow reminded me of the Celtic knot designs on the front of a dancer's costume. I watched the weave and then the bright orange leaves curling under from melted ice. The snow may have been the great equivocator, but walking in the face of the wind made it all too much a lesson in survival. Maybe it was a reminder of Boreal Hail Ring being set aside for a second year. I shouldn't pressure myself so hard. March has to be set aside I fear. I don't want to break. Though I can see the benefits into April at that. Going straight for the sewing machine and not turning back for a good length of the Summer into Autumn. It is getting darker and I still haven't mentioned what I worked on today. That would be the mock ups. I seem to keep cycling a rest period after ever three or four. I start to nod sitting in the chair and I feel the need to recharge. No pain like the first day and I try to get up before I collapse into the desk. This usually happen s when I work on a quilt binding and my hands have had enough for the day. I curl up with the piece at the desk, hold it like a dear wubbie, and yes I have often whispered into a curled over block, "I love you". I'm sentimental and still making Golems to protect me through the night. (Remember, I will never admit to that in public.) So, according to Luis, the work is hard and possibly draining. Not quite breathing the breath of God into a clay vessel, but I'm sure each artist has his/her own understanding of being a creator. Some dark story would lead me into the studio claiming my work killed me. (I will be circumventing Cadmium Red at all costs.) Current count is that I have seven left before approaching text as an issue. Resolutions in vellum will be beautiful thing. Were am I at right now? Taxed with planning out so far ahead of time. But I've never worked collage on a large scale-assemblage, yes; collage, no. Even with thinking through some pit falls I won't be able to muster enough steam to work through the initial eight. This is pushing me to find a method of work that yields stellar results, but I'm bitching because I do not want the pain- any of it, all of it. I'm bitching over hard work coming that I never have been through before. Not to mention sacrificing some level of archivality at the use of cheap supplies. Lord, oh dearest Lord, when will I move into a professional grade? I'm reminded I'm more clever than I am letting on. Patience and the library, seek and find. Or render the uppity position her and from now on: "I make things, its up to the conservators after that." Yeah, I said it. Don't beat me to a pulp yet. Other than that I'm a little tired. After a walk in the snow, painting, cleaning the kitchen and the refrigerator, I am a bit fatigued. Reading is tempting and waiting a bit to cook dinner as well. I will have my cake and eat it as well. Don't mind the brioche and I talk with you tomorrow. As ever, stay hungry and curious. The day has been its own reward. The yield was good. I worked into about eight more mockups and let them dry. I did not understand how many passes of a brush would tint the right shade of grey. Thinking back to San Francisco plugging away at the desk by the window, I remembered the little nuances and doing much with little was the mantra for the day. Today revealed that that had not changed. I remembered a suggestion to pull out the transparencies and integrate to the whole. Stored away vellum did the trick I think she was suggesting so I would not get mired in image and text. Give the piece a second layer to convey a message. So now, stitch work immanent, I am considering more complex questions. Such as working up star charts down loaded from Bing. I am hoping Kinko's will commit to a 24"x36" print. The blue will be startling in the least and I'm overjoyed at moving into color after this run. Aside: Don't hit me for this, but I was considering picking a ten piece core for the larger pieces. The ones with the best composition and range of values was essentially my thought. My friend did not yell, but let's just say he was not happy. "Show the range," he started to encourage me. In my heart I could not argue. Someone told me once that they enjoyed looking at my series work as the could follow my choices and breakthroughs just by looking at each piece with an interested eye. I was flattered then and still am.
Late to the chair today, but I read Chapter 2 of Maisel's book and... guess what?? I even did the exercises for chapters one and two. Life purposes is written out and the mental imprinting is next. I still hold at that exercise cause it amounts to mindless chanting for memorization sake. If I don't believe what I wrote as a state that already exists in me am I fighting uphill to change myself for a fleeting desire or a personality change? Don't mind me, I've been hard on myself this week wondering about being ingenuous and what is the boundary line of sharing on blogging? I'm digging for an authentic me. A little everyday. The trigger was that I feel I may have stepped beyond my artist statement in the past year. I've got to find intent and meaning where I recognize it. The statement was born of honesty - a bit raw if I saw so myself. I'm finding it hard to give myself to permission to move on and change where necessary. Even if it means to chuck it all. The last two years bore new vistas and resolve of old issues. Synthesis demands change. Here the ground is soaked and new growth blossoms every day. As ever, stay hungry and curious. All this pushing and development has finally dropped me off in front of a brick wall. I've been elated over the past six years for having find, breakthrough, and innovation keep me going through every session in the studio and real-time observations. My journals are over flowing with notes on projects and research that would bring nuances and developments to my work that I only glimpsed in a daydream. Yet, here I am fighting every bit of the way. I could not figure out the pain I feel in my mind and around my lungs. I laid on the bed a few minutes ago, talking it out with Luis. The dark cloud had been looming for weeks, but I pressed on. How difficult could it be to follow directions that I wrote for myself? I rationalized day after day trying to blame it on someone else for squashing my muse, my ego, and my clarity. Now it is all jumbled as well as taking responsibility for myself.
Right now I am thinking what the hell am I doing admitting to a creative block. I am ashamed of myself. I am reticent to continue. I feel like I have disappointed not one, but many. I am at the point of giving up, but what will happen to the work if not but like the other endeavors: at the bottom of the work pile again for a few months. Hell! Who am I kidding? It'll be years. Or possible finding a niche on the loading dock at the second hand store. Meaning, in the garbage, as it does not meet their criteria for sales items. Besides that they have stopped selling bed linens, curtains, and the like. My bread and butter, gone. Block, shmock; I came to the first conclusion that no person put me in this mental space. Second conclusion, as I turned to lay on my back, was that I feel to put these things aside for three months would be a temporary resolution while I attended to my personal needs. The third conclusion was that I need to get help for this stinging mood that has me glaxzed over staring at the shadows on white walls form as the sun descended. Fourth conclusion? Ala Luis was that I need love. From Agape, Eros, Philos, Mania, Ludus, Storage, Pragma, to Compassionate, any of them will do. As an artist you have to be conscious of what love does to your work. Whether receiving of giving the whole playing field changes. The work is no longer your or your beloved's. It enters into a realm of superior concepts that over ride humanity in concert. Elevated past the ego and more than a sum of its parts. Have I lost my ability to love? Is this what happens after lover's leave? Is this the beginning of a depression? Is it an emotional reaction to the weather? (2-4 inches of snow here tonight.) There is a little anger in my that wants to burn my books, notes and pictures. God knows I won't, but the first step to resolution is to acknowledge all this craziness and figure out where it stems from. After here I'm opening an creative coaching book and digging in. When I did this in graduate school I hit resolution shortly after. Above all, I know to try to be patient and wait it out. It may be cabin fever for all I know. I am recognizing familiar feelings, so I am on the right track I think. Taking on larger works, which means more time and more materials, is exercising and unearthing skills I did not know I had. It is like Boreal Hail Ring in a way. I've treated that series like a bastard step-child. Priorities got in the way and I down graded the endeavor to an eventuality. I still have interest in it, but wonder how I can work it in to a monthly or yearly resolve. Achi Bachi! I'm putting this down in the journal if necessary. For now I am compelled to read. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I've been sticky icky icky bitchy about getting rest since I've gotten back from Las Vegas. The weight of trying to report back to you on what I saw was enormous. I have to put it by the wayside for now. Even the drawings of the mountains will have to wait. I do not know what the yield will be, nor what format it will take. Yet, when the memories flood into the present and my right hand can keep the script pacing with the picture, then I might have something for you. Editing aside for now.
Where my head is at is post notes into collage. I've got six in the beginning stages and will work my way through the collection of clipped images over the rest of this week. I sat down late in the day. I guess it was about five. I had planned only to approach the set of images organized on the desk. Still it is like Lays potato chip: You can't eat just one and I got caught in the muses wake and worked on for about two hours. I'm happy. The main reason why is learning how to resolve difficult arrangements while trying to construct a strong composition. My mind got a work out to say the least. I came to the conclusion years ago that I have a roughly good sense of spatial logic. It has helped me to shift gears beyond making icons and illustrated narratives. I am not knocking those two things as they are a cornerstone of art history. Still there is a moment that tells you to stretch your wings and take the mistakes in stride. I don't want simple solutions all the time. It lulls the mind to sleep and the viewer has no reaction to the piece; whether violent or peaceful. Ganymede is easier now. I see where I am going and I see and end to the madness of metering out tension with every stitch. If I carve out about ten more days the quilting will be finished. I am stuck in one of the problems of my recycle, reuse, repurpose, and zero waste philosophy. I've run out of contrasting tread to build the undulating brambles (i.e. Meander) that cross back and forth over the surface of the quilt. Fortunately I have several extra rolls of ecru and strands of coral, light yellow, and red. I do not want to delve into the former colors as it will screw over my initial patterns in warm colors. Honestly, though? I do not want to trek out to JoAnne's and I'd feel more triumph in the end if I use it all and waste nothing. Coming into this project I had ziplock bags full of different colors of DMC embroidery floss. All of it from project I started years ago and never finished. Since Ganymede started I've used up my stash for two ziploc bags worth. I swear to myself that if I buy something, it has got to be used on a regular basis. To me that means I am starting to get a better hold on my technique and methods. I'm finding a niche that doesn't replicate a previous or current generation. Back to the dugout and spell it out: A-u-t-h-e-n-t-i-c. I have really grown a thick skin with some of those who may baulk at my choice in materials. Antiqued is not the term they use, it is "garbage". It makes me look at Kurt Schwitters and Max Ernst a little differently. "One man's trash is another man's treasure" come up frequently as a retort, but I'm doing nothing to raise the point to an issue of education that I can resolve. I am doing nothing to educate about the sociopolitical issues that it raise about civilization and it malcontents. Still, as an artist I am compelled and demanded of to produce that and what is beautiful. I'll get there. I have to. Personal challenges are good for inner growth and achievement. Public challenges are excellent for kindling and starting fires of the intellect. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I think the seed was planted by my sophomore year in high school. I was not quite because of Judy Garland and Fred Astaire in "Easter Parade". I watched the regular weekend musical at one in the afternoon, not solely for the music, but mostly for the costuming and set design. I got pulled into all things Victorian at that point and one of them was a little fixed up doodad diorama of an egg. The size is longer that six inches, but shorter than a foot, Peek through the glass piece at one end and you'll find Peter Cottontail and all Beatrix Potter's imagination at play. Some of these dioramas mused the beholder much like a music box with a decorated exterior. These eggs, God help me remember, may have equally been decorated in sugar icing. Something like Dios de los Muertos brings to the Southwest every year. So, my fascination grew every year from middle school to this compelling desire that never left.
Somewhere during the internal burning I ventured to Chicago to see my mother hard at work learning hardware management for IBM. She was not due back home for another month and my parents thought it would be a good thing to venture out. While there, she took me to the Chicago Art Institute to look around. OF all the things I remember seeing, it was the boxes by Cornell. The sight unscrewed a valve in my head and the pressure released. Exquisite. This was the next step I needed from Easter's secular teachings. I had several sketches by my senior year. Each replete with doors, overlays, and light sources. I hate to say it, but it hurts. The sketches and notes are gone. I'll have to pray for deep memory recall and deal with all the detritus. In the least I sketch out the whips of what came up a few minutes ago. I'm out there tonight. The cold is outside and I hope no ice sets in the windows tonight. The cold always travels in to far. Namely to my head. When I was bald I use to wear a little orange knit cap to bed. After that my shoulders did not ache because the pillow was elevated to high and the temperature was too cold. Well, I am out there, laying in the darkness and curiosity arrives with memory. I talk only because friend says it will be of help. I fight the notion out of confusion. I argue with him that time after time I get paranoid out of a sense of propriety over my ideas. I get startled and cry over all the work I lost that I never signed, fearful someone else will get the credit for my hard worked efforts. All that, but I talk of the study and research with a sense to build interest and to welcome the interested with trust. The purpose of my works is not to spin my wheels out of boredom. Well, not completely. I learned how to fuel a fire. Some times slowly and low to the ground. You can't make the desired mark by feeding continuous oxygen. That type of fire know nothing of control. Learning and experience has me nurturing my fascinations and rekindling dead embers. So, here I am, teddy bear in tow dreaming of thread painted houses on paper, laid low under a sky of constellations. Both visual anchors come from previous work. I am starting to juxtapose what comes refined from the work table. In my mind they both join seamlessly in association, so I move to a larger thin rectangle on a 48" vertical panel. Then finish off the sides with 1"x6" planks and a glass front. For the inside add in a ladder built from objects collected in nature and a few more objects as needed. Inspiration for the structure and finish come from two people I used to know. One was a graduate student at Texas Women's University when I was a non-degree seeking student. She painted a plethora of nests, house structures, and ladders for her M.F.A. show. I can not remember her name, but the respect is still there. Lastly Dawn who made ladders seem to have more intrinsic value than pass the paint brush. I remembered Jacob's Ladder that night after talking. I hope her collage collection has grown. I've got other shadow box plans in my journals. The problem is that I always come to a regret point because I can not get started. There is no room for storage. If and when, if and when, if and when. Maybe I'll dream a little dream and write down everything I want and need. Especially to do expand into a larger space that I can afford. It is the wrapped sticks I remember. Twenty to forty of them in a tall glass case. They'll catapult me to my core again.swoon. the love. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I've been nodding off after meals. I've been eating about every six hours so my body must be fatigued and hungry. I decided to retrain myself out of this hole I've gotten into and try more nutritious and nurturing fares. So I've peeled, sauteed and baked my way into not cooking for a few days so I can do what I have been doing best for the past two months: paper, paste, and writing. My work started to take precedence over daily chores and personal care. I did not count on excavating myself to leave me in a pile of dirt to dig myself out of. Thank goodness for selling the car and getting the art out to the Chamber. A few extra goals a week and I'm still in touch with the world beyond. Putting television aside started it all four years ago. Now authenticity is the only word I know how to spell.
In the studio I'm a row away from the half way mark on Ganymede. I can not explain how good that felt when I flipped the right corner of the quilt and wondered where the rest was. This quilt could not be that easy. I looked down and there it was in the folds, the other half. I was not sure where I'd be come March, but at the end of next month I may be on a binding adventure. After that comes "El Gallo" and of that I am anxious and will be asking myself for patience logging in time from April through December. My plan is too have both completed by DQC 2016. Though Martha, my Quilting 101 instructor, said that God only gives us so many stitches to do by hand. I'll be praying to get through the year with out damage or frustration taken out on the work. I'm opting for a simple stitch in the ditch on "El Gallo" followed with some bead and button work. Not to mention hand made tassels. I'm vested in my tribal studies and this one will make easy references to that. Right now Ii hear it in my ear that my quilting takes too long. It should be faster. If not to the point of being rushed, becoming harried and then packing it all away. Slow, seated, observant, and methodical is where I am at. If my ass spreads because of it, I'll deal with it later. More like a long walk outside and collection duties begin again. I called to the environment out of interest. It called back out of curiosity. I entered on my own recognizance to learn. I am slow and I have never left. Finishing up cutting out the piece for the mock ups would not have happen if not for my friend telling me to mind my duplicates and pull them. The pile went from about sixteen to six. So I finished today and laid out the first one. I'm happy to say, this is going to be fun. I have to find another term or a synonym for whimsy. Maybe even the word clever. I had forgotten how intricate even small pieces can become. Also how important the minutiae can be to the whole. It was hard trying to keep the little pieces of paper organized on my desk amongst the cut away fodder. Flashbacks to photocopying pictures from old tomes in the back room of Blagg Huey Library at Texas Woman's University overwhelm me every time I take a seat at the desk. I'm starting to remember what I used to do ages ago. I had observatory, moon, and sky at my behest for several semesters. I don't think it has rightly left my mind though. I have new subjects that I feel I can give into my mind's old tendencies to design. It may not make any sense 'cept to carry you away for a moment. Attributing these pieces to motion may come at a latter date. Meanwhile I'll tend to the dance on my desk. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Maybe I pushed too hard. I know I was not paying attention to anything but what was in my hands. Either way I'm clueless as to how I shifted the detritus of my desk. Then it crashed and bounced. The rest I could not catch and it fell to the floor. No glass, but needles. It is my thread holder that should be mounted to a wall by now. Except there is no way to do it without sacrificing much else. All of it intricately tied to motivation and personal fascinations. Even down to the card of St. Joseph with Jesus lifted to his shoulder with one hand. I may not be a Catholic, but I do not quibble with minutiae when it comes to inspiration under some form of auspices and guidance. Also over the past six years I have accumulated so much. Storage is tight and I have to be careful to review it all before letting it go. Though I've resolved myself to thinking it all will get to a good home one way or another. Even if I do not place it there.
So my desk serves particular tasks. Many of them have to do with several forms of sewing and the obvious guess is quilting. Today, however, has been different. Taking a break from collage has been foremost for the past two to three weeks. My mind was blown away at the stats I received on this site within a few days of posting Introvert's Rhyme. Within four days of posting I had reached over 1,300 hits. Grateful I am, indeed, and in awe. So, my mind has been running since then. I could not relax till about a week ago. Why? I came to a conclusion about where to take the core of the last series next. I may have written a little about it, but I set task to hand finally today. I started working on mockups. I was going to keep it loose and simple. Then the crash. I assume that was a lightning bolt from God telling me to reconsider. The thought bruised me that the mock-ups would fetch a price as high as the other works sized 12"x18" if not higher. I tried to tame the thought and calm down. It makes no sense to me if the layouts and notes are of more value that the final pieces at 26"x40". I admit I court the irrational sometimes and if has yet to get me in trouble. Often its an unconventional form of motivation that produces painless results. After that, I picked up the sharp scissor and went at the curves and turns with careful attention and yes, it is good to court more than one exacto knife. In the midst of cutting of bird cages and lightbulbs I started to have flashbacks of working at Dallas Public Library. Sometimes duties had me working closely with the Children's Librarian on staff. She had a collection of pop up books. These were kept out of site and had to be requested for use. Turns out they are a high risk item always needing to be replaced. Ripped doors, missing pieces and torn spines are just some of the damages that tended to happen. Replacement, however, did not always happen. So, the librarian in her wisdom learned so of the magic in creating a pop up book. I learned a few things from her, but I my look the techniques up again. With each cut of pulling out the bird cage I could not help but think about advent calendars and the books. I may push it that far. It was a notion, now I am compelled. I could. On a couple of the mock-ups in the least. Tonight about 6:13 p.m. turned me into a different person. Yellow Wolf on the radio listening to the EDGE and I never took myself so seriously in my life. Luis told me something about myself that I do not want to, well I am scared to believe. Meanwhile I just bury myself in the work and try to find the next step. There is a drawing prize up for grabs. Entries due at the end of March. I'll post here when I dig it out of email. As ever, stay hungry and curious. Blessings in two this Thanksgiving Season. It started with a firm reaming out and a warning. I listened and drew breaths one by one as I was told that I soon would be crushed if I continued to work in the same vein in paint and collage. What market there is around D/FW is turning in the direction that I have wallowed in for years. At least I was lead to believe that a grain of emerging and experienced artists are looking into producing art with some of the same methods. The kind person seemed to be warning me before I become just another number in another juried competition. But the relay did not stop there. I am told that I have no choice but to get back to pottery, picking up where I left off in college. I did not know hat to say. I sat up in bed with my interest piqued so high the memories and images flood me full force.
I used to joke to myself about getting back into pottery, but for other reasons. One was to finally get out into clay the forms and plates I had designed for a divining tool. I remember sitting out in front of the mobile home i lived in carving into raku clay early into the morning. Even the possums came to visit as the night into morn got cool. I carved four that night and laid them to dry in the computer room. I had hoped to make it through twenty by the end of the fall month. I was sure firing in the backyard would not be a problem. Even to this day I covet the Mother Earth News magazine I rummaged from 1/2 price books. Inside were directions for building a kiln from a metal can and rocks. I still had safety gear to buy, but I was committed to the task. Right now there is a kiln in the garage. Unfortunately the bottom is cracked and the electrical box may need examining. Currently I have no money to invest into refurbishing for long term use. Before about June or there about, I was playing with the idea to go to Royal Brush and pay for time for firing greenware and the final glazing. Unfortunately they've closed. There is a bright side to this. My admonishment and warning turned into a challenge. It is my second for the year and I'm still a little teary. Well, honestly? I received about seven more anonymous requests after finishing "The Postman". Still, I must have done something worthy in the last one to garner this one. I told few about my pottery work from college. Also, I never set back at developing it with earnestness till 2007 and you see how far out we are now. So seriously, how did this person know I go beyond 2D? No need for an answer. I'm harboring a secret joy in this request. It is that, sight unseen, someone has confidence in works I set down for years. Them not knowing I was secretly hoping to return to them. So, as I was asked to reply. This is confirmation that I am taking up the challenge. I have been playing in my mind with form and structure for a few days and will be completing sketches in two to three days. I will photograph them and post. I was also told to begin work by the 22nd. That will be for the prototypes. I know I'll have chemistry to correct for the final pieces. Also I'll be able to give you an idea of the general direction with mockups and notes. Thank you dearly, whoever you are. BTW: Your messenger works very hard. As ever, stay hungry and curious. I am far away at the moment. Not out of the country, but seemingly far from myself. I was laying in the bed listening to the stars and the conversation did not turn, but developed. Who me? Now? I'm wondering what will happen to our concepts of weather and climate if the sun should explode and we, humanity, have built Gaia into a Death Star. Will we substitute it all for a giant grow light bulb? Hydroponics for the later half of forever perhaps? What will happen to the creatures in the seas and will I ever see a rainbow again? Atlantis went under. Will we teach the myth of Ellis island? Midst all that I remembered a passage from the book WE by Zamatin. A brief moment there in the silence I thought we were a communist nation and I had to ask. BTW: the answer is "No, we are not". I drifted a little closer to my body and now I am typing.
Between the words and shortsighted concepts I'm sure you figured out that I am tired. I worked twenty four sets almost twice today. In other words, I started building the foundations for another series. This one will have a name and not follow suit into untitled anonymity. I've been working since before 9 a.m. and I peppered the day with breaks, cleaning and rest. Meanwhile, it is the end of the day and things are drying. Besides that, my mind is still working overtime resolving and creating. I've been through the ringer multiple times on this series and it changed again late in the afternoon. I thought I was about to play out my houses in another format. I was psyched even to push the concept into a book format. I started fleshing text out in my head, unfortunately I missed writing it down in order to finish my first task. I'm ready to flesh it all out in the next few days, weeks. Still I was at a cross roads because the act of houses, again, was not demonstrating any sign of growth. I started bitching under my breath then loud about what I thought a series was compared to what I was running into. I was firm for the past five years that a series does not consist of repetitive imagery. Over the length of the series change, growth and metamorphosis must become the rule. That way the series does not stagnate and it holds the attention of the viewer to the end. Numbered or not, curated or not, the series is cohesive because of method, materials, style or color. This method does not recon' to the practice of editioning an intaglio plate. It shows the growth of the mind in action. A snapshot capture almost of thought in action and practice. I prefer this method to any one shot paintings that come to mind. Even if the work is a culmination of experimentation and reasoning. So, long story short. I scrapped the houses idea. It dawned on me that I was taking a stab at another artist's work. Honestly? It has been pure jealousy for years to use that motif in a solid body of work. In college I started working on the concept of house and home. I laid it all aside for years. When this artist used the motif in their work, I fell apart. In my mind I was the only one who understood. I ruminated over visual language. I fell quiet because I did not strike when the iron was hot. Why oh why did she metaphorically own it? I felt I could not touch the issue in my work, because it would lead directly back to this artist. Come 4:47 p.m. EST I was jealous no more. It dawned on me that I would ruin myself, but sullying the issue into the new work. I saw something in the work that had me believe I could carry it all over successfully without hanging a tired and overused symbol. I decided to go totally abstract with as little referential to the common world as I could get. Thank goodness for Kandinsky. I would not have had the balls to do it if not for finishing the book a month or two ago. After that, pieces are coming together slowly, even into the box building stage. When I get the money, I'll buy the wood and start constructing. After a little calculating, what it is coming down to is a 3-12 month drying time for the series. Which puts me at the same time with the wooden canvases. With encouragement he original aim was to be ready for a spring show should other provisos manifest. Now, I wonder if the schedule will cave in on itself or be flexible. There are other shows. Besides that, I'm jamming framing costs to another hidden corner in my mind. Fabric or Paint. Scratch that too, I'll flesh it all out in a few weeks. Thus and so, today was....a good day. As ever, stay hungry and curious. So. I'm fucked. I wake up in a daze Saturday about 4 a.m. from a serious dream about quilting. Mind you , I dream about other things and pick there meanings out of dark shadows while sitting bedside sipping watery sweet ice tea. I do not dream about quilting and believe me, the woman in it where serious. I wondered if it was the beginning of prognostication or some freaky and deja vu-ish occasion. Same difference right? Whatever it was I woke up feeling like I just got admonished for something I did not do and some violation of a practice I was totally ignorant of. Seems like I can't play the innocent novice anymore and ask unending questions. I must of taken it on the chin and woke up to work. Know why? The first thing on my mind was the challenge quilt and if the measurements would cause problems at the Dallas Quilt Show next March. I freaked out for sure. The quilt was already pieced, pin basted and I've been quilting it. I stumbled to the computer in the other room and started looking up new show requirements. Finding none I went to last years posts and found what I was after. Scribble scribble scribble on my entry envelope from 2012 I had a figure to work with. Hobble hobble hobble back to my room in the dark I buried myself in the quilt, sat in bed and started measuring. There were tears behind my cornea that just did not come out. I was at 107 by 103. After a quick scribble and a mind in the other direction I was officially too damn large. It hurt. I freaked out by staring at the wall. Then the epiphany: Take off the border. I remeasured and I was still too large. Then I calculated the other border to remove and the measurements came in line for both directions.
I get livid when I think about it. I feel like I've failed because I did not pay attention to a golden rule when it comes to this show. Though now, I have a solution and I'm getting committed to stitching the fuck out of this one too. Honestly it is a angry response that might not be appropriate. (Angry art? A new thought for me.) I need to compensate for the beauty I'm removing by proving my competence in the redesign. In the end I know it will still be a strong piece. Taking this tack, I can develop more passages by pushing for a relief like texture. Ah yes, another fortune in thread. Meanwhile I sent an email to the art quilters group I spent time with to find out what is the golden mean for displaying quilts at DQS. I'm hoping for an answer today or tomorrow. If my perception is wrong and I do not have to cut, there will be rejoicing in the kingdom. If not the border will go to developing another quilt. Seems win-win anyway you turn it. Over the weekend, that occasion seemed to jump start a list of anonymous requests. My neighbor has an ear and eye out for me and never stops to help me out of creative conundrums, ethics and management practices. He listens to me and hears me. A good friend indeed. He passed the list on to me last night and today when I could write. Now I find out that between yesterday and today the list grew. I have about seven requests/challenges with two year work time allowances. I've got notes to go thru and sketches to enlarge. I've been told that a pattern has to come out of each of them. Honestly, I'm anxious and amazed that anyone would have that much confidence in me. Thank you. Sincerely so. Perfect timing! I'll let you in on a few odds and ends. The prototype for the 40-banner pursuit is now pin basted and ready for quilting by embroidery stitch. I'm trying something new for that thanks to Carol Morrissey up at Quilt Country in Lewisville. I had a major problem on my other had quilted wares about finishing out to the edge. I would have to remove the piece from the hoop and try like a Dickens to maintain tension using both hands. I have issue that linger on subsequent quilts because of this. While talking with her months ago she tol me to extend the top with a strip of muslin. That way I can shift the hoop without a problem of losing tension and a design that will now go all the way out to the edge. I am happy. The challenge is already pin basted, but the next purchase out will be a few yards of muslin. I may work this in tandem with the challenge. I don't want ot lose steam or interest. Though if I have to put something aside for a week, I will. I am deathly afraid of working on either in an absent state of mind. I am already getting picky about how a stitch falls, the color of the thread and thickness of it all. My major growing points I guess. I've got a few more hours to work today and I wanted to share the pics that I promised a few weeks ago. The quilt is called "Verdi's Wheel". I forgot to post measurements, but will when I get back into the studio with a notion to do so. The piece is a play off of the quilting block called Yankee Puzzle. The spiraling green pinwheel is where the title comes from. This is my first King size quilt that is completely hand quilted. I have so much respect for Amish women right now it ain't funny. The stitching relies on the St. George's Cross , a cross stitch, and a repetitive straight stitch I call "bird sign". The final border is a sequence of triangles. Honestly. Remember when I said I'd stitch the hell out of it. I did. It was fun, but I still have my problems with tension in the fabric because I did not start in the middle. My small piece of real estate in the living room is the only area I've got to pin baste. I started pinning at the top on this one instead of the center. I yielded more humps and bumps than I care to mention. I metered it all out with my fingers, very slowly. I fixed some of the problems, but may have manifested more. By the time I realize what I had done, I had already invested several long rows in compact stitching. Pulling out with old fabric usually means tearing. I was not apt to deal with that. I held back a column or two of tears for a few weeks after the discovery. Then I rested for a few days and tried to occupy mind mind with other endeavors. It did not work. I rested again and I came to grips with it. I'm not an idiot, I am not incapable of handing this, I am not a failure. The idea came and I pushed through. Here I am. As a result, I am loaded with a lot of lessons and trial by fire. One of which I do not have to sell everything I make. I am not at the grips of consumerism. My little business sustains me as a learned hobbyist. Thanks to my neighbor I can now breathe. He suggested before I developed this crazy stitching habit to consider the piece as an heirloom. I still pause a bit at that thought. It brings me comfort. Showing at DQS next year with others is resounding in my mind. I'm hoping to join DQG if not but to show more quilts than I could not being a member. Honestly? My emotional tack on this is not bragging rights. It is more like "show and tell" on Monday before homeroom class starts. On the other hand, the Challenge? Uh, yeah, that is bragging rights. I am so convinced that if I do that quilt right I will be"the man" and that is that. Humble, bumble, jumble, alright, I'll be good. >giggle< |
N.A. JonesPicking up where I left off. Archives
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