handstories

Birds

    Begun at the beach.

    Often stitching feels like drawing, but these birds are more of a sketching process. Each stitch shaping the figure. They take time and consideration, along with some erasing (unstitching).  The surprise of them, the not knowing how they will look in the end, is fun. And I really like the couple of dark marks in the reddish cloth (dyed by Deb) and how they give the faint suggestion of birds coming through a portal. 

    And another bird in process, bigger (~8 x 6 in.), inspired by collage lessons in Carla Sonheim’s Creative Lab class.

    Both pieces traveled to the Atheneum down at Pike's Market today.  A friend and I wrote and stitched the day away looking out over Elliot Bay. 

    Much more to do here- around the bird and within.

Claiming the elephant in my room

    A few days ago, thinking about the love/hate relationship with my birthday, feeling pleased that it was in a few days and there was only a little of the usual pre-birthday gloom going on, and then realized that it was actually a couple of weeks away, and that there was still plenty of time to go into the dark side.

    And then I found this childhood drawing.  Five years old?  A circus theme- there is a trapeze artist and a clown on a unicycle on the other side.  I remember drawing it at Great Aunt Peggy's house.  We all loved her and her tiny house, and I'm sure that the blue walls of her living room are where my desire for blue began.

    Anyhow...

    The drawing triggered and fed a whole lot of old things.  And then it became a "pet pebble," an assignment for the Creativity Lab class.  The goal was to use tape and paper and get in touch with making in a childlike way.  It worked.  There was a need to do more with this elephant, some memories, and birthdays...

      Channeling my inner five-year-old, I'm going without a plan.  No rules, other than not undoing anything.  If something doesn't fit, I'm making it work with scissors, more fabric, or stitches.  I stitched on it all day Friday with a lot of joy and some tears.

        Still going... I don't know where.  Maybe more sequins and beads, and, if I can find it, silver thread.  It's a celebration.  I'm loving it.  It's still growing.  Me too.

The shape of the last week or so

    There has been a lot of self-reflection, and some being stuck in it.

    And another round of Covid.  Fortunately, it was a mild short-lived case with only one day of fever.  (Noticing that my inner beast looks like a sad, sore, scary tooth. A subconscious connection to my teeth issues?)

    On day three, tired of being tired (following a very good pity-party), I sat down to watch Carla Sonheim's yearlong class videos.  There was doodling, experimenting, and thinking about grids.

    It was a lot of fun.  (Yes, I'm still playing with combining aquamarine, ocher, and black paints.)  I find her workshops inspiring, approachable, and comforting.  They encourage me to try new things and think about making in different ways.

    Which led to this color wheel piece.  (I love color wheels- the idea of them, their usefulness, and how beautiful they are.)  Over and over again, trying something new adds layers to the cloth work.

    Switching things up can create a shift everywhere.

    Circles that were traced. 

    "In Theory"

Three!

                "The Poignancy of Light & Time"

    So many swirls lately.  I love their scribbling-feel.  New thoughts about them came while doodling along in a Carla Sonheim zoom class.  She began calling out kinds of lines to draw with- straight, round, etc.  Which led to thinking of different ways to draw trees...

    They look simple, but I felt my mind opening.

    Everything really does inform everything.

 

Reshaping

(There are all kinds of wonky things going on with photos, comments, and spacing right now.  Crossing my fingers that I found a workaround with this post...)

    

    "Holding Memories"

    Yesterday I was thinking about how my stitching is about creating possibilities.  That stories can come together to make new places.  

    Recently, when asked if they liked me, I was told that I'm "a mixed bag".  My first reaction was sad and hurt.  Then came the thoughts, "Who says that?!" and finally, "Well, who isn't?"  Realizing that every experience is a learning adventure, I decided to be grateful to know more... about others and myself.

    "Mystique" Tree Token

    I think my stitching is about believing in the possibilities of and for stories.

    "Time, love, and work.  That's all you have.  And, hopefully, a few trips to Italy."- Maira Kalman

    Maira Kalman is a favorite soul of mine.  There were hours of listening to (gobbling up) old podcast interviews with her this week (again).  She's funny, charming, wise, and so talented.  I found out that someone I know knows someone who knows her.  Even though I will most likely never meet her, just the idea that she's only a few degrees of separation away makes me giddy.

    Nights have taken on a strange pattern.  Waking around 4 am from intense dreams (a sky full of pink moons, starlit gardens, terrifying shadowy corners...), and then drifting off again around 5 am for an hour or two more of dead to the world sleep.  The morning paintings have become reflections.

    Also, I've started playing in this "seeded notebook" made a while back.

    Really, life can be rearranged and reconnected in so many ways.

still Tuesday (I think)

    The pen was found, so pages are being labeled.  Now I'm wondering if I should mess with it more by adding bits of the stories of each thing?

    The start of today's page, Deb's thread.

    Another book, the first one I made, is open next to me as a place to test paints, practice writing, doodle (this one was one of Carla Sonheim's one-liner exercises).

    This morning I stood looking at the mailbox, trying to remember, "Did anyone get the mail yesterday?  Or was yesterday Sunday?  What day IS it?"  While trying to answer my own questions, it finally occurred to me to just open the mailbox and see. 

    The studio table is overflowing.  Things are precariously balanced atop each other- paints, books with painting that needs to dry, thread, cloth, to-do lists, pens, brushes, snacks...  

    This is how things go in our corner of the world.  (FYI- no one had emptied the mailbox yesterday.)

    Two-hundred-eighty squares (69%) finished, 128 to go.

    There was some spinning this week.  A little each day.  It's been SO long, so long that there were spider webs all over it.  It feels good to be at it again.

    And a piece was almost finished.  It's about all of this- how things might be, and maybe, just hopefully maybe, how things really are at the root of it all.

Rosee part 5:

    "I forgot to tell you about moving Tablespoon to the Dude Ranch in the pine hills. I got lonesome for him and his daily bath.

    Back in the summer of '34 when everything burned up in the drought, all the other horses had sore backs so Bill Hatch asked if he could use Tablespoon to ride circle. When they got back he was all a foam of sweat and they were afraid I’d give them hell for overriding him, so they sneaked him down to the pond and scrubbed him down clean before they turned him out where I might see him.

    Every time they turned him out in that pasture after that he’d go to the pond and climb in and give himself a bath.  Also he’d round up all the other horses and drive them into the corral till they finally had to put him in another pasture all by himself.  Anyway I drove to the ranch and rode him 13 miles to Ostendorfs and put him in their barn.  Emmett (her brother) came after me and took me home for the night. 

    Next morning, I came and got him and rode him about half way to the Dude Ranch.  I was standing by the road looking at him and he was looking at me as though he thought I was crazy, wondering how I could possibly get back on with my sore bottom and sore legs, when Empty came driving gaily along in the car. He leered out of the window at me, “I thought I’d find you just about here walking. How would you like to drive the car and I’ll ride him the rest of the way.“  I dearly loved him that minute."

pink clouds with some scattered thoughts

    The new year began with a dip into Blandina's rainbow of cloths.  Another beginning was with Carla Sonheim's new class, 365: Activate Your Art Brain.  In taking that watercolor class over the last few months, it's become clear how good it is to stretch in new ways.  This will be a just the thing, a quick daily art practice to warm-up each day. 

    Day One:  Pink clouds 

    Yesterday there was a new flickering of understanding of how drawing, painting and stitching might inform each other.  I know Jude has talked about this, as has my therapist, who is also an artist (a very swell bonus), but yesterday, while going back and forth between the clouds and stitching, there were some moments of getting it.

    I found an abandoned sketch book to use.  There are a few markings and notes in it, including that quote in the top corner, "find me unafraid".  I have no idea where it's from, or why it's on this page, but I'm guessing it struck a chord, because it does now.      

    I really am going to try to do some deeper thinking about sharing, the possible ways, hows and whys, including the idea of sharing with myself.