handstories

Sailing

    I’ve decided that I can paint whatever I want, whenever I want.  So simple, yet so hard for some of us.

    "On Her Way..."

    So, I’m drawing, stitching, and looking at photos, figurines, paintings of boats… boats, and more boats.

    And I’m even allowing myself to keep my eyes open.  Doing the blind paintings was a way of just being in the moment and also of not judging myself. If my eyes are closed, of course it’s not going to be perfect.  For the last few drawings, I've kept my eyes on the reference mostly, but peeked at the paper now and then. Trying to work quickly and loosely, to remember the childhood joy of drawing.

    I gave dyeing with black beans a whirl. Easy peasy- dried beans and cold water.  Left the cloth in overnight.  Depending on the fabric, it came out shades of purple to gray (that bright purple piece started out pink).  

    “Going… Without knowing or caring”

    I used some of it for the lower sky here (below Deb's dazzling dyeing).

    While doing this one a memory came…  Growing up I drew all of the time, but then the teenage years made way for other things – theater, writing, basketball… (a few boys, too, including K.!).  One birthday, 16th I think, my brother gave me a gift. We weren’t close anymore, avoided each other or spoke in snarls.  As I opened up a small sketchbook and set of colored pencils, he said, “You don’t draw anymore.”  I was so touched that he had noticed and cared. I still have that little book somewhere.

    Rhode Island sister is coming to town tomorrow.  Looking forward to our time together, and some sea. And probably another boat...

Rainbows of feelings

    Leftover thoughts from the birthday cloth, I think.  Celebrating sky.  The swirling line is that metallic silver thread, it's not showing up very well here, but it's wonderful in the sunlight.

    Terrariums thoughts.

    Which may have inspired a long overdue dusting of the jar and bird shelf. Starting with the top shelf, washing the bowls, and trying to dust the elaborate gilded-like frame of the painting. 

     That painting...  It’s is family. Painted by a woman who lived up the road from my dad's foster home where he grew up.  It hung above the fireplace of my childhood home.  Writing this, I am suddenly overwhelmed with all it stirs up- sentiment, sorrow, anger, love... 

    A pink moon made from more of Deb’s fabric.

    It feels like a long while since I last made a boat.  It may be time.

Elegance in Pink

    I just can’t settle down into a routine or direction.

    Digging through a box of scraps until one catches my eye and then another.  On Lucky days, scraps that belong together are near each other.

   The Studio was quiet this week.  The same taxi driver came.  This time parking in front of the door, and avoiding eye contact with me, even though I was waving a "Hi!" at him. 

    At first, Monica’s collage above seems to be just a gathering of pretty pictures that she liked. Looking closer, I noticed all of the pinks and soft greens in the photos, and how they were brought together by the surrounding paint colors she chose. 

    Monica alternates between collage and drawing. Often covering a big piece of paper with rows and rows of small circles.  She is a sweet soul of few words.  Yesterday, she was waiting for her ride, just sitting there smiling. When I asked her what she was thinking about, she responded by slowly, turning her neck and raising her chin, stretching it to look up to the left.  “Swan princess,” she said.
  “You’re thinking about a swan princess?”

    Nodding, yes, she repeated the gesture, gently tipping her chin skyward as before.  “Swan princess.”
    I realized that she was imitating the graceful swooping neck gestures of a swan.  “Are you thinking about “Swan Lake"?”

    Another nod and swoop of her neck. She was a swan princess.

    (A group of swans can be called a flock, bevy, wedge, lamentation, and a ballet.)

Our people

    Hills were in my dreams two nights in a row this week.  In both, they were beautiful, rolling, green hills with a scattering of big old trees full of pink blossoms.  

    In the first one, in a ballgown, on my way to a party with a high school boyfriend, I noticed a wayward sheep.  Getting ahold of its collar, I wrestled and wrangled it on the hillside, trying to get it where it belonged.  Not easy in a ballgown.  The second dream was much calmer, just admired the scenery.  I enjoyed both of them.

Pixie's finished painting.  

And mushrooms.

    This weeks' time in the studio had a few moments...

    Near me, a woman who I hadn't connected with yet, began to fret.

    "Oh no, Oh No, OH, NO!" over and over.  It took a minute, but it became clear that she needed the tops taken off of her paints.  The person who usually did this wasn't there.

    "Could I take them off for you?" I asked.

    "CAN you?"

    "I can!"  What a relief for both of us.

Brette finished the top of her nine-patch pillow.

    One of the artists was worrying about her taxi ride being late.  She went out to look for it a few times.  As things began to escalate with worry, I offered to go out and look with her.  The taxi was there, but across the street and a quarter of the way down the block.

    "There it is," I told her.

    "It's supposed to be right here!"

    It quickly became clear that she would not go to the taxi, it needed to come to her.  Where it belonged.

    I scurried to the car, "You need to turn around and come to the front doors..."

    He informed me that he had called her cell twice, and that she hadn't come out, and that he now had another call to get to.

    "You NEED to get her, AT the front door."

    We went round and round a couple of times, and then he began to drive off.

    "This is NOT OK!" I yelled after him as he drove around the corner (his window was down, so he heard me).  When I got back to her, wondering what to do next, I caught sight of that yellow taxi coming back around that corner, and pulling up to the door.  Where it belonged.

    There were a few more moments of flurry and frustration on all of our parts, but she got in that taxi.

    Elizabeth choosing one of her recent paintings for a friend.

    Back in the studio, one of the artists was taking a photo of a painting with a phone. 

    "Is this your painting?" I asked him. 

    No, but he wanted a photo of it, but the phone wouldn't open.  Looking over his shoulder, I saw a message pop up on the screen.

    "Is this your phone?"  Nope.  "Where did it come from?"  He pointed at the table.  "It would probably be a good idea to put it back."  Nope.  He wanted a photo.  "Here, let's do it with my phone."  First phone went back to the table, we took the photo, he gave a thumbs up, and walked away happy.  He didn't want the photo, just to take it.

The photo.

    Later, sharing about the day with someone, they seemed baffled by my wanting to do this every week.

    "These are my people!" I told her.  "It's great finding ways to make connections with them.  I really enjoy it.  Well, maybe not the obnoxious taxi driver, although I did enjoy yelling at him!"

    She responded, "Of course you did."

In the pink all around

    I was happy just looking at these cloths together for a while.  Jude's moon and Deb's pinks.  I have often wondered about curator or artist in my making.  Thinking about it more, there is an artistry in gathering, and I love putting cloths together, combining their stories into one.

    Blue's autumn views from his new apartment in Santiago, that he shares with his new roommate from the UK, near the apartment of his new girlfriend from South Africa (Now we really wonder when we'll see him again!).

    It's great to hear him sound so happy and much more settled and self-assured as he begins his second year in Chile.  We've both grown up so much.

    Dearest friend is on an adventure in France and sending fun photos of flowers, cafes, the countryside, and sewing pins in a castle gift shop.

    Another spring evening.

    We only had cloudy skies for the eclipse.  I watched the news instead.  They shared beautiful footage as it happened across the continent- Mexico, Texas, Indiana, Cleveland, Niagara Falls, and finally, Maine.  Watching the excitement of the people and the beauty of the diamonds, beads, and pink flares had me in tears.  What it must have been like to be there!  Three of our neighbors went to watch in Texas and Indiana.  It will be great to hear their sun and moon stories when they get back.

In the studio and skies

    "Starlight Shimmer in a Blackberry Sky Held Her"  (with a Threadcrumb moon)

    I've been working on a lot of glittery skies.  Looking for ways to make light and sparkle.

 

    (I was told it's ok to use the names of the artists at the studio.)  Someone had brought in a few marionettes recently, and Matt is quite taken by them.  He's been working on this piece that features one of them for a couple of weeks.  I love the happy land that he is creating for her.

    Look what Pixie is working on now!  (They painted the mountain scene in my last post.)  I was so happy and honored that we were able to have a short communication about it (with the help of their iPad).   Another good moment was during a snack of celery, I told them about the "ants on a log" snack, and they laughed and laughed.  My heart is filled with every connection with these artists.

    Most of my time is spent with Brette, who has a lot of creative ideas, but not as much focus.  Fortunately/unfortunately for her, keeping people on task is a leftover teaching skill of mine!  We've started sewing a nine-patch pillow together.  So far, so good!

    "In Layers of Sky, She Found Her Story"

    I've also noticed that some of my titles are getting quite long.  It may be a wish to work on writing again...

Foolish Galore

    Wondering if anyone noticed my mistake on my last post?  Not me!  When I finally did, I thought about just naming it, “In Need of Weeding," but I couldn’t unsee it or convince myself that it was just a tall piece of grass.

    So, I spent some time thinking about how to fix it without removing the back (probably more time than it actually took to remove it and put it back).  

    Garden tended.  (Tina dyed this beautiful blackberry sky.)

 

    And then, sitting down to knit for a bit, I realized that someone had got carried away with her knitting.  There were an extra 24 rows. Yes, it could’ve just been a taller sock, but the first one was already finished.

    Sigh.

    I’m looking for something new to do with the morning paintings. I don’t know what it is yet.  Doodling for now.

    This is the beginning of yet another effort to post more often. Shorter quicker posts, so as to avoid the overwhelm of it having been so long, which often brings everything to a halt. Hopefully, I’m not just fooling myself!