handstories

Thinking

    As usual, I’m all over the place. Stitching here…

    Practicing birds…

    A few words…

    Another ship…


    And today, thinking about practice and process…

   It may not look like it, but it's a purposeful experiment. 

   Somewhere inside of connection and story.

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 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...

Spring is all around

        “Spring is in the Air” with one of Jude's moons.

    A sign of hope filled the sky the other day.

    I've been trying to push myself out the door more.  Realizing how too comfortable I've become being alone.  With going out and about less and less, it's more and more uncomfortable stressful anxiety filled when I do. 

    So, I've made a few dates, reached out some, gone back to the pool, and started volunteering with a local art program for adults with developmental disabilities.  There are about twenty artists who come and go in the open studio. It's a lovely calm space with everyone doing their own thing- creating three dimensional objects, painting, collage, knitting, etc... 

    M. has made dozens of dragons from sticks, paper, and tape.  There are distinct breeds.  This one is named Yellow Star.  M. is a prankster.  She likes to warn you that there's a dragon behind you and laugh when you turn to look.  After being caught out on my first day, I returned the joke on her.  When she turned to look and realized that she'd been tricked, she shouted, "Flying whoopie cushions, you got me!"

    P. is so talented, nonverbal, and works alone in the back corner.  I hope for a moment of connection someday.  It's filling to be building relationships again.

    I'm also trying to learn Italian on one of those free apps.  This is day nine.  My new motto is:  If I learn it, I will go. 

    I can order you coffee or tea with milk and sugar, point out town buildings, take you shopping for a black sweater or a small backpack, and get through a meal of fish, chicken, or pasta at a restaurant.  I may be making K a little nuts as I comment on how tall he is, whether or not he's nice at any given moment, and remind him that we do not need tomatoes from the store.

    Spring is turning out to be very full!

    Spring spaces with fabrics dyed by Tina and Deb.

Braiding Connections

    "And Still... the Moon"

    The flying dream was a great one.  It was actually more like swimming in the sky.  Keeping my arms close to my body and wiggling like a fish, a mermaid, the movements lifting me towards the stars...

    A morning at my friends' hanging out with him while she took the cat to the vet (the cat is having health issues too).  Again, parking is an issue in their neighborhood, so I pulled up to the building, she and the cat left in my car, and I headed into the condo.  Neither he nor I are morning people, nor had we ever really spent any length of time alone together, so the plan was for us to have our coffee and tea quietly in separate rooms. 

    When I brought him his coffee, he was sitting in a comfortable chair in their bedroom listening to music.  "Here you go.  I'll just be stitching in the living room.  Just let me know if you need anything- more coffee, company, whatever."

    "Yeah, there's a book that I'm listening to that I want to get back to...  My sister told me about it, Braiding..."

    "...Sweetgrass?"

    "You know it?"

    "Yes, I've been hearing about it for years.  I've checked it out of the library several times but haven't actually opened it.  Are you liking it?"

    "Have a seat!"

    "Let me get my tea..."

    He shared about the book, and we wove in and out of topics- connection, and community, how the last weeks have been for him, them, what might come...  Two hours later, she returned, the time had flown by.

    "Robin"

    Coming home, I sat down to stitch, after going to the library website, checking out, and opening the audiobook of Braiding Sweetgrass.  What an amazing, beautiful, spirit filling book, and listening to the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer read it with her soothing rich voice is an added gift.  I'm halfway through.  It's the perfect thing to listen to while stitching.  I can't believe it took me this long to get to this book, but then again, sometimes things happen at just the right time in our lives.  I imagine that I will listen to it again and again, each time remembering a lovely morning conversation with coffee, tea, and connection.

Conjuring

    There was an idea for a piece, another one with stones, it seemed like a good one... Not.  I stitched and restitched, ripped out, tried again, and was left with three little stones in the middle that looked more like Easter eggs.  I threw in into the hills of cloth on my table (where it has since disappeared).  And then this piece of Deb's stormy cloth called out, wanting to share a sky with one of Jude's moons...

    It was a moody weekend.  Plenty of feeling sorry for myself, but also knowing that I was fine.  We've got a system for doing the laundry now.  At twenty-four minutes into a load- be there with three buckets for about 20 minutes.  Do not run the first bucket out the door.  Set it on the floor until the third bucket has begun, and then run...  I tell myself how lucky I am to not have to use a washboard or wringer.

    This cloth is about creating connections and spells for yourself.  

    Finding ways to intersect with what's happening and reach for what might.

  Everything leaning on and into each other.  I loved making this piece.

"We Conjure What We Can"

    This piece and others will be in the shop this Friday (March 4th, noon Seattle time). Fifty percent of the sales will be donated to the International Rescue Committee.

    Sky magic last night.

    And more stars today...

Forward...

"The Night's Blue Magic"

    Regarding taxes- I hate feeling stupid, it helped that K (an accounting major) wasn't able to figure out the problem either.  A very patient soul, on the other end of the state taxes helpline, held my hand and walked me through the issue.  Notes were taken, in hopes that next year might be the one without tax tears (a person can dream).

    The ER bill arrived yesterday.  I can't even wrap my head around how those numbers are real?  How is this ok?  Combined with the plumbing work, what an expensive month January was.  Today I am just being grateful that we have resources and am moving on...

    Maybe because of this, I'm working harder at being disciplined with my time and stitching.  Routines work for me, so I'm trying to keep to a schedule. This is mostly easy, because I love it.  Now, if only some headway on the business side of things can be made.  Not so easy, but it will be better in the long run if I can just sit down and make myself figure some things out.  I also need to make myself get up and stretch more!

"Hesper" Tree Token

    A piece of all of this is thinking of stitching as a job, which plays mind games on me, spinning me back and forth between joy and weirdness, and even some guilt (or is it old shame?).  I worry about losing my way in it all, losing the heart of it, about valuing myself, about not being who people might think I am.

    With all of the recent trips to Oregon, time with family, I finally pushed myself to talk about my stitching, to call it "My Work" out loud.  Things about it were brought to share for the first time- pieces, the Stitch-illo book, etc.  It was hard to put myself on display with faces looking back at me.  Good and bad comments undo me.  It's fascinating and feels like drowning at the same time.

    My brother (who uses the words "I'm sorry" to begin most sentences) said, "I'm sorry, but they really feel like watercolors to me."

    "That's a wonderful thing to say, thank you!" His words filled me with joy.

    Onward...

 

"Where Dreams Begin"

    With admiration and thanks for Deb, Tina and Jude for sharing their gifts of and with cloth and thread (among other things!).

Home & Hand Stories

"Spells of, from & for Home"

    The road opened back up.  No locusts, hailstones or boils appeared.  Two days of trying to help.  Hard.  Just hard.  Physically, emotionally hard.  Due to covid there is not enough support for him or my mom.  We need to figure out a better plan for them, this is not sustainable.  None of us knows what to do.  I'll probably return at the end of the week, when the plumbers are done here.

    Sitting here in my studio room (with a jackhammer sound coming from the basement), surrounded by things I love, especially these blue walls.  Sitting here stitching this morning, trying to figure out what this overwhelming feeling is?   A kind of homesickness, I think.

    Last week I noticed that I kept putting on more layers.  For cold or comfort, I'm not sure?  At one point there were seven items of clothing, and that was just from the waist up.  Just now I remembered that this was something I used to do as a kid, when things didn't feel safe.

    Mom's husband is mostly resting, sleeping, unaware, but there are moments of connection.  There were three sweet ones... 

    On the first day, giving him a dropper full of medicine that he didn't want.  I was firm, "This needs to happen.  It will help you."  He opened his mouth.  "Thank you, good job!"  He raised his arms up a little, hands about a foot apart, gesturing.  I didn't understand.  He tried to say something, a few times.  I realized it was an echo of how I had said "good job!"  That he was trying to clap.  I gave him his deserved applause, he smiled.

    Knitting across the room from him.  Again, the hands were up, moving in a pattern.  "Braiding," he said.  We "braided" together for a few minutes.

    Just before it was time for me to leave, he began humming, "Swanee River."  I joined in with the few words I knew, made up some, hummed too, and then started "Red River Valley."  He hummed, managed a "valley" here and there, as he waved an arm in conductor-like movements... flowing.

When we speak of moons

    Friday morning, a cloth of gifts that felt full from the start.  (Thank you Jude, Deb, Deb and Tina.) That hill, from the get go, felt moon-ish to me- color, shape, and connecting with the pink moon above.  I've compared hills to cakes.  So cakes can be moons, too.  Maybe everything can be a moon?  And a cake?  Maybe everything is everything?

    This was my daily painting first thing that morning.   I hadn't connected them until just now. 

    And then, in the afternoon, a dear friend on a road trip, sent this from Utah...

    Everything is connected.  I'm pretty sure of that.

    I had thought that this was done, but after looking at this photo... no.  More balance was needed in the lines around the hill- a wider arch, and a wanting to carry the lightness of the hill color beyond.  Also, that top "circle" filled with golden stars and dots... not right.  (It's so hard and tedious to pick out those dots, especially when they're double stitched, tweezers help.)

    Yes.

    And YES.

    I seem to be disappearing or is it fading?  From here and other places, too.  Jude says that she can't comment here.  Wondering if there are others?  And what to do?

    Keep looking for moons, I guess...

Time & space

    "In the Wonder" holds some special cloths and thoughts.  The speckled square and the moon from Jude, the watery edge of a napkin and threads by Deb, combined with a galaxy of stitching made for a good exploration and expression of how things are right now. 

    It has been wonderful having Blue here.  My heart is full just seeing him across the room.  He's such an easy going guy.  "I don't care," is his usual response (I actually worry about this some).  So I was thrilled when he really liked a new-to-him recipe that I made the other night.  "You can make this again on my last night."  You bet I will!

    The edge of summer is in the air this morning.

    In the process of finishing up "In the Space of Joy" it was flipped the other way, and made so much more sense to me.  I need to keep remembering to look at things from different perspectives.

    An old memory of Mom and my siblings was the first thought on Mother's Day.  A memory that holds happiness and wistfulness.

    Many thanks to Tina for her cloth gifts, her scrap strips are often the perfect frames for the tree tokens. 

        On Mother's Day, there was a last minute decision to drive up to Bellingham for my favorite lunch of African peanut soup and a walk around campus at the college Moon will attend next fall.  (Deb, I waved and called "Hello!")  There are many reasons to be happy that he chose this school- proximity to us, the soup and Deb are a few of mine.  It was fun to watch Moon's excitement as he pointed out different buildings and what will be "My favorite climbing tree."

    Deb's threads create connection in "Moon in Bloom." 

    There are many many things going on in my head and work right now, and I'm not sure how to share about it all.  Mostly, I'm just trusting- in cloth, time and myself.

    P.S.  There will be a shop update with these pieces and others tomorrow morning- Friday, May 14th, 9am PST.