handstories

Arcs

    Recent stitching- a series in rainbows.  (Inspired by and created with the dyeing talents of Deb and Tina.)

 

 

    New ideas- abstracted rainbows, black thread.  These pieces felt like drawing more than usual.

    On Instagram, someone asked if I would ever be able to go back to my usual palette after working with in such vivid colors?  I really enjoyed playing with these brights, being braver with bold, and there was already a piece in dark blues going by the time I saw the comment.  I am going to do more with these ideas.  They feel like an expansion rather than a shift.

    I don't have a lot of words for here or in regular life.  Things are ok, swell mostly.  Life felt really good for weeks, and then there was a head-first dive into a downward spiral last week.  Sometimes I do myself in.  It's an old habit, but at least I recognize it now.  This is progress.  Onward...

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.

 

Here

    So it seems photos come and go now... me, too.

    Back to the murder nightmares, balanced with dreams of making salads and trying to host parties while having the house evaluated/judged by a stranger.

    If you have Netflix, do watch "My Octopus Teacher."  It's beautiful.  It brought back so many water memories.  (Including skinny dipping nights in the Pacific with a girlfriend back in college.)

    The "Rhythm" booklet has found a home, it is now a part of the Bainbridge Island Museum of Art, Cynthia Sears Collection!  Inspired by Langston Hughes' wonderful book, The First Book of Rhythms, creating it was a meeting place of a love of books, language, cloth and stitching for me.

    Many of the techniques in Jude's workshops were used in the making- weaving, integrated applique, cloth layering, etc.  I'm full of gratitude to her, Velma and Catherine who have all had roles in guiding the way.  This community is a heart filling thing.

    There is a video of looking through the book over on Instagram, click HERE to see...  Also, you can click on the "Rhythms" category below to read old posts about the process, if you like.

More trees & seas

“It Was a Map of Possibilities”

    Trees and boats, back and forth.  Grounding and going.  Holding on and trusting.  Knowing and wondering.  Strength and bravery.

    I'm really liking the grays lately, and how they add to and deepen other colors.

    This painting makes me think of an inukshuk.

"Anika"

    The tree tokens are being named now.  Names from heroes, storybook characters, former students, and ones that I just like.  Sometimes it's clear who they are while stitching,  others take a while to get to know.  I'm hoping a Ramona will show up.

   How many trees does it take to make a forest?  This small stand will be in the shop in the morning (Saturday, 11/14, 9am PST), along with a handful of story cloths.  Thanks for taking a peek.

Translations & transformations

    My first memory of beautiful stones is seventh grade science class.  The geology study.  Mr. T. passing out pieces of cardboard with rows of rocks glued and labeled onto them.  Rose quartz is the one I remember, I appreciated that it was easily identified by its soft pinkness.

    Ten years later, I met a woman with an unusual name who was to be my trainer at a new job.  She shared the how and why she had she had chosen this name for herself and given up her birth name.  I couldn't even imagine such a thing (Ha!).  We talked for a long while, and when we finished sharing stories, she pulled out a pouch of stones and crystals.  She placed pieces of rose quartz and tiger's eye in my hand saying, "You need these."  I thought that she was very kind and quite "woo-woo," but I carried them in my pocket, just in case there was magic to be had.

    Thirty years later, I still don't know what I believe about the powers of stones and crystals, aside from thinking that they're beautiful and I love getting lost looking into the light, lines, cuts and colors of them.  There is a piece of smoky quartz sitting here next to me.  Spotted at a booth in an art fair one day, it called to me.

    I don't know, maybe, I hope so. 

    Jude nudged me into trying to stitch a crystal.  First attempt.  Eh.  I suppose I should finish it and see, but there are already things that I know I should have done differently.

    It's been ten or more years since I last saw that woman.  At the time, she had changed her name to Ruby.  I wonder who she is now?

Vacation

    Mornings, days, even evenings have such a routine right now.  Rarely is any day different than the one before.  Wake up, shower, start oatmeal, closed eyes drawing, stir oatmeal, paint drawing, tea kettle whistle blows to be poured, stir oatmeal, finish painting, eat oatmeal, and then, aside from a lunch break, stitch for much of the day, an occasional chore, make dinner, etc... repeat.  They are fine days for the most part.

    Today, awake before dawn, the drawing came first, with eyes open.  After painting and oatmeal, I left the studio, announcing, "I'm taking the day off."

    Curling up with the cat in the front room, I watched TV, and knit on a plain sock for hours.

    After lunch, there was a little stitching in a book I made, on a page where I had wiped the extra paint off of the brush this morning. 

    It was a very nice day of playing, and playing hooky from myself.  Time to make dinner...

golden

    Still playing with Deb's yellows, combined here with a few of this summer's indigos and a scrap of that beloved old dress (story here).  This bit still held the hem stitching holes in it.  They've been honored with a few of Jude's thread beads running alongside of them.

    My new first thing in the morning exercise (while the oatmeal cooks).  Sitting at the table with eyes closed, pencil marks are made inside of a taped off space while listening and feeling.  Afterwards there is painting and redrawing the pencil lines with a pen.

    This morning the smoke had cleared enough to open the windows, but I think the birds were still staying sheltered and safe.  It's only been four days, but I'm really loving this.

    There's also been a little work at color mixing- creating the secondary colors from the primaries.  Purple is the hardest for me.  Color wheels are great- for looking at and for using.  It's also swell to be able to make my own tools.

    Other than moons, yellow doesn't have a big spot in my world, but this cloth is singing stories.

journeys

    Business first... These story cloths will be going into the shop tomorrow (Wednesday, August 19th).  

    There has been a lot of staring at these photos, and a wanting and trying to write about how things are at this moment.  Strong feelings of happiness, and sadness, and deep wishing.  The word "clinging" gathered itself and rose to the top.

    I found this when I cleared my shelves in the school basement seven years ago.  Where did it come from?  Floating amongst 23 years of teaching- books, supplies, plans, projects, props, backdrops, etc., and one little boat.  It came home with me, and sits here on the windowsill above the studio table.  It was beyond time to leave that job, some of you might remember.  As awful as that ending was, so many great things came from sailing into the unknown.

    Not long after leaving, this matchbox art was found in a shop.  The message inside might seem sad, but I love it.

    It tells me stories of longing, faraway lands and treasure, and whenever I read the words, "It took me too long to start",  "But, I did." is always tagged on in my mind. 

"Sharing Light"

stars & stuff

    Looking through a pile of starts, I found this, and couldn't remember much about it.

    Old blog posts reminded me that it was going to be a star blanket, with stars stitched daily onto it, started sometime in 2017.  Oh, well.

      A couple of collages, not my usual thing to do, but it was fun to play.

    There was an urge to make a face, something I usually shy away from.

    She's only got one eye so far, I may be afraid to go on.

    Still working on the things I love book.  It's been fifty days, there are 38 things so far.

    How it feels a lot these days.

    Things are quite unfocused.  Today a few small skies came into being, that helped.

noticing stories

    The last squares were quilted yesterday, with stars filling more of those gaps created by my wandering lines of stitching.  I am both glad and sad about that.  Today I started the binding.  I've come up with a different idea of how to do it.  I can see it in my mind.  I hope it works, I hope it wears ok.  We'll see.

    Some starts were made...

    The book goes slower and slower, but still, it's going.

    This page has two things I love- the windows that led to us buying this house, and the blue walls I waited thirty years for.

    The other day I said that I felt story-less.  I know that I'm not, but they're sure hard to grab ahold of these days.  

    But then, I was noticing the few irises that grow under the cherry tree next to the sidewalk.  I remembered how much Grandma loved them and gladiolas, and fuchsias and sweet peas... she just loved all flowers.  Once her birthday was celebrated with cakes baked into flowerpots, each decorated with different frosting flowers, all displayed in a plant stand.

    And irises grew wild on the hill behind the first college I went to.  The hill K. and I climbed after he started to propose to me in the basement of my dorm, next to the pool table.  I could see where he was heading, and said, "You are NOT going to ask me anything important in front of a pool table are you?"

    So we walked up the hill, to a tree, which I made him climb.  Up in its branches, looking down the hill, at the school, town and the Columbia River below, we made our plans.  It was February, long before the irises bloomed, but they were there.