handstories

tangled up in freedom

    This is the square that came from the Social Justice Sewing Academy @sjsacademy.  It is an organization dedicated to empowering young artists.

    "A youth education program that bridges artistic expression with activism to advocate for social justice. Through a series of hands-on workshops in schools, prisons & community centers across the country, SJSA empowers youth to use textile art as a vehicle for personal transformation & community cohesion and become agents of social change. Many of our young artists make art that explores issues such as gender discrimination, mass incarceration, gun violence & gentrification. The powerful imagery they create in cloth tells their stories, & these quilt blocks are then sent to volunteers around the world to embellish & embroider before being sewn together into quilts to be displayed in museums, galleries and quilt shows across the country. This visual dialogue bridges differences in race, age & socioeconomics & sparks conversations & action in households across the country."

    Click HERE to listen to an interview with the rockstar young woman who founded the organization and one of the students.

    I had thought this would be an easy thing to do, the kind of thing I've done with hundreds of students over the years.

    The first step was to secure the edges of the pieces, easy enough.  But then, what?  This square came with no instructions from the artist.  Not knowing them, or their intentions has thrown me.  At school, I was able to have conversations with the students- hear their thoughts, have them pick colors, etc. 

    Wanting to respect and keep with the artist's vision, I emailed the organization, and was told to feel free to do whatever I thought.  My thoughts were panicked.

    "What if I get it wrong?  What if they don't recognize their own creation?  What if I'm somehow silencing or not seeing their truth?"

        I think too much, I know...holding my breath and hope, and continuing on...

happy stories

    Quilting of my "Story" blanket has begun.  The first real stitching in a couple of weeks.  I feel rusty, out of practice.  There is no plan, just taking the needle wherever it wants to go in the moment.  Finding rhythm again.  

    I don't want to, and/or shouldn't, think or write about the things that have been going on here.

    Instead, a story...

    A few summers ago, hanging out with a dearest friend.  She was wondering about her future, wanting to have a partner in her life, "I don't want to get married again, but I look around and wonder where my people are?" 

    She wondered if Mr. X was it?  NO.  We agreed he was fun, but definitely not Big Picture material.  Maybe Mr. Z was as good as it was going to get?  "No," I said, "He's a good guy, reasonable, as close as you've come, but not IT."

    Suddenly, in my mind, I saw Him...  Sometimes, I sense things- think or dream of someone and they call, wonder about something and it's in the news the next day... that sort of thing.  There have been a couple of times when I've freaked folks out with my knowing, and my guys all roll their eyes about it, but don't deny it's true anymore.  But this was different, not a feeling, or a dream, it was a knowing.

    His back was to me, looking out of the window of their condo at the lights of the city.  It was the clearest, most certain vision I've ever had.

    "He's coming.  He's going to be older than you.  He won't work with you, but he'll be in the same field, so he'll understand the passion you have for your job.  He'll have been in a long term relationship, so he'll know how to be in one again.  There will be kids, but grown, so you'll have the grandparent experience.  He's coming."

    A month later, she started getting to know a man from work.  He was in a different department, and some years older than her.  His wife of many years had just died the year before, and he had three grown children.

    After a few interactions and weeks, her feelings were clearly growing.  "I think this is him," I told her.

    A month later, she said, "I think I love him!"

    "I know, and you're going to marry him."

    They've moved into a condo looking towards the lights of the city, and the wedding is in a few weeks.  

    Last night, K. and I joined them for dinner.  For the first time, it was with his kids and their significant others.  Seeing her so happy, belonging with him, surrounded by her people, was joyful.

    For the first time, in a long while, I went to bed smiling, feeling filled with happiness.  Something had lightened, and hopefully, it will continue to lift and float away...

backings, framing & a little business...

    OK, this is for Grace, Liz and others who have asked... 

    It's a gray rainy day for photos, but here's my three cents about backings and framing.

    I have mixed feelings about covering up all of the stitching on the backs of pieces.  The tangle of threads and knots does seem like a part of the story, but sometimes a backing serves a purpose.  You'll see that I do a variety of things, much of it versions of things Jude has shared over the years, and/or just making do.

    First up is one of my little squares.  They are backed with a square of cotton, using a whip stitch around the edges of the piece.  I wanted a place to sign the piece, and to put the title, which is an important part of the story to me.  Also, it sometimes helps to square things up, if needed.

    This bigger piece was done in a similar way, but with small running stitches around the edge.  

    The "X" across the back doesn't go through to the other side, rather the stitches catch on layers in the middle.

    "Playground" was done in a similar way, but because the backing was flannel, I was afraid it might fray too much, so the edge was turned under on the backside.  Making mitered corners is not my favorite activity in the world, but the flannel felt too bulky to just fold square at the corners.

    "Beyond" is only finished on the top edge, with the torn edge of the cloth left raw.

    The backside evolved, with layers being added to it for stability in certain areas, as I worked, so some of the stitching is buried beneath, such as the first stitchings of the tiny dots across the top.

    As for framing-  Folks have done a variety of things- from having them traditionally framed in flat frames or shadow boxes, with and without glass, to just using magnets to hold them on the fridge.

    This piece shows what I've done for shows...

    The piece is held on with two tiny nails (I wanted something that felt like sewing pins) in the top corners onto a cradled board (this one was painted with phthalo turquoise watercolor).  The bottom is unattached.

    These boards are nice because they can stand freely on their own or hang on a nail using the opening on the back.

    All to say, different things happen on different pieces.  I try to just go what feels right.  For example, at the show, it seemed a more finished look would appeal and be easier to display.  The bigger pieces are sometimes used on table tops, and people often don't want to worry about what could happen to the work if left exposed and handled over time.  Personally, I love seeing as much of the work as possible.  Once, I was given a blanket, and I opened up a bit of the binding to see what the inside looked like.  (I did stitch it back together!)

    I hope this has been useful, please say if I've missed something.

    As for the business piece...  At long last, new pieces are in the shop. (All backed and unframed!)

an enchanted evening

    The Cotton Building in Port Townsend was a beautiful space, and the rain stopped in time.

    So pleased to have had my little squares next to the wonderful work of Tininha and Tracy.

        Tininha's weavings are as joyful and passionate as she is.

    Tracy's patchwork brings to mind the wonder and fascinating stories of her life.

    I loved how children were drawn to the textiles.

    My favorite moment came near the end, looking around the room...  Seeing K. (who is such a good guy, and who was my rock around this whole thing- supporting, encouraging, enduring a few meltdowns, and knowing how to do the credit card thingamajig!).  Across the way were my three oldest and dearest friends laughing and talking together (their support and help, before, during and after, went above and beyond, and held me together).  There had been reconnecting with people, meetings for the first time in real life, friends, and friends of friends, and such kind and generous thoughts shared... I realized how rich my life really is, that all of these folks are a part of my world, including those of you who come here and have given such heartfelt cheering-on and support, that I'm able to spend time doing something I truly love...  The night was, and my life is, so full of goodness.

    It really was a lovely evening.   

some nitty-gritties

    Framing.

    Labeling.

    Wrapping.

    It seems that things are getting done for the show on Saturday.  

    Some parts are fun - stamping titles, and wrapping notecard sets with old pattern paper.  Which brought back fond memories of watching Mom lay out the makings for a new dress on the dining room table, explaining what that black bias arrow was, and how tucking the pins through the pattern and fabric twice held it much more securely.

    Much of this process has been good.  I'm learning some things about myself.  The momentary panic attacks seem to have subsided.  Thinking through the details is right up my micro-manager alley.  And I've even done some hard things- including asking for help.  Twice!  Something that is very difficult, and rarely done over here, and both friends said, "Yes"!  One is coming with me a day early, and driving!  The other is stopping over here the night before, just to reassure me that everything's all ok- the plan, the display, the pricing, what I'm wearing... Me.

    Yup, it's all going to be ok.

works-in-progress & a story that has nothing (or everything) to do with them

    The nitty-gritty things for the show were stressing me out (again), so I gave myself permission to not worry about them this week.  Instead, a few more story squares were worked on, and I'm calm again (for now).

    This morning I had planned to go to the grocery store at ten.  After the morning rush, before the lunch crowd, and knowing the library would be open by the time I headed home.  At nine I suddenly had the feeling that I should go Now.  Five minutes later, a few blocks from home, I came upon an accident involving a scooter and a car that had happened moments before.    

    The young man was stumbling and trying to move his bike out of the road.  Being the daughter/sister/aunt of fire fighter and EMT folks, I pulled over and got out to help.  While convincing him to sit down, he looked at me and said, "Were you my teacher?"  Looking him in the face, I recognized E. right away.  He was the sweetest boy, who struggled to get his poetic thoughts down on paper.  We had spent many hours working one-on-one together on his writing more than ten years ago. 

    The accident happened right in front of the house of the woman who hit him.  We settled him on the porch, moved his bike, she brought him a blanket, and us tea, while we waited for his dad to come.  His dad arrived, and the two of us got the bike into his pickup.  As they were leaving to get him checked out at the ER, I gave E. my phone number, asking him to let me know if he was ok, and then I headed to the store (at ten o'clock).

    He texted later saying he has a torn ligament in his knee, and also how scared he was when it happened, and how it helped to suddenly see a familiar face.  He is still a sweetheart.  

    Some of the "just the right" cloths and threads are from the makings of Jude, Tina, and Deb.

blue therapy

    Because there are many things I should be thinking about and/or doing, much of last week was spent stitching blue squares for the "Story" blanket border.

    I had been holding on with stubbornness to the configuration of the center squares, even though it would mean that the whole thing would be an odd size, or require a lot more blue squares to make it fit on a bed.  I finally let go, and dismantled and rearranged some of them (a few strips were taken off of the bottom, and then sewn to a side).  The eighty plus squares from last week were more than enough to make it around its new practical shape.

    Since then, the Need-To-Do-List has had a few more items checked off of it.  I think that time in blue shook some things loose.

goings & comings

    During a quiet peaceful day alone with stitching yesterday, this story of home showed up.  It's about leaving, staying, being there, and wanting to know that are all are possible.

    Come evening, some things fell apart.  It was 9:00pm, and I needed a break.  Some wine had already happened, so driving was not an option.  I got on a bus.  

    I texted a friend, who lives on my bus line.  She was downtown at a concert, not home.  So I kept riding.  Half an hour later, across town, I got off and walked to the stop heading home.

    A moment after boarding, the friend texted that her date was leaving the concert early, if I could get to the theater, she'd try to get me in.  The bus app said a different bus was needed. Fortunately, the next stop was also for the right bus.  It was also on a dark lonely street at the edge of downtown.  When I got on the next bus, the app wouldn't work.

    I asked driver where to get off?  "You're on the wrong bus."  What to do?  He threw out all kinds of ideas.  I said that I just needed to get near 9th and then I could walk.  "Too far, wouldn't want you to do that..."  He was clearly thinking it was too sketchy of an area.  I got off near 9th, with him pointing out that the stop I should go to was just across the street.  I called out my thanks, and went the other way, down 9th.

    The theater was only six blocks away.  They were dark blocks, with a few folks sleeping in doorways, quiet and peaceful.  My friend met me outside, and attempted to bring me in.  The usher, an older no-nonsense woman, gave me the "I know what you're up to" eye, while I returned her gaze with "I'm a tired and desperate woman" eyes, and she let me go by...

    And that's how, an hour after leaving home, I was listening to Jason Mraz sing about the sun shining, not giving up, and all of the good things he wished for each of us.  It was so nice.  I cried through them all, out of weariness, and joy for the moment.  Afterwards, K. came, and drove me home.

Currents

    There's a postcard, so I guess this is really happening!

    A show with Tininha Silva (my old next door neighbor, who I miss dearly) and Tracy Hudson (her dear friend, and happily, my new one).

    If you're in the neighborhood, please come say hi!

    The details:

    Port Townsend Art Walk

    December 7th, 5-8pm

    Cotton Building, Port Townsend, WA 

drifting

    A moon from a lovely bit of Deb's dyeing.

    Trying to float for a couple days.

    I do want to write about the wonderful event I went to last Saturday, and some self-realizations... Just as soon as my brain recovers from the computer stuff (there were a few more issues to wade through).