handstories

Small things can shift things

    There are so many things with needles in them.  It's dangerous to reach around on my table.

    There are lots of ways to say "I'm working" without really getting anywhere.  This was a half-start of sorting out the thread nest.  I showed a photo of the basket of tangles and knots to a friend.  "How did that happen?!" she asked.  After explaining how I work, and that there are three other baskets of chaos, she just stared wide-eyed at me.  "Do you need more corks?" she asked. 

    "Fortunately or unfortunately, no," I replied.

    I've been experimenting with cyanotypes the last two days.  Playing really is good for the spirit.

    This boot (can you see that it's a boot?), with its cactus began in the late 70's.  My uncle came home after four years of being stationed in Germany with the Army.  Grandma took his boot and planted the cactus in it.  Proclaiming that it would keep him from ever being able to leave again, she put it next to her trailer steps.  I always enjoyed seeing it when visiting her, so when she died, I took it.

    It has been at the foot of our front steps growing and multiplying for the last thirty-plus years.  The toe of the boot is pretty much gone, it's rooted through its rotting sole into the grass, and a few sprouts have escaped the boot all together.  It just goes along with no interference from me.

    But THEN, two weeks ago, overnight... that growth/branch/arm on the upper left.  Nothing like this has ever happened in all of its forty-something years.

    Each day it reaches a little further, stretching thinner.  

    SOMETHING is going to happen.

    Small things can make for such a difference in the days.

Hello!

    The love/hate relationship with technology continued...  Our house has been without internet service for a week.  After several phone calls, three new modems, and two trips across town for exchanging... we finally have one that works, with enough oomph to reach the studio, and doesn't hum.  Hallelujah.

    Meanwhile, there has been stitching.  These two nine-patches were inspired by Jude's post.  Some of the blues are from her too, the earthy one is made up of naturally dyed cloths from Deb of Artisun, and both have a linen napkin edge from Deb L.'s dyeing.

    Not finished at all, with many sketchy lines in blue-grays that have something to do with how the sky might hold our stories.  A thought that came while thinking about how the starlight that we see is from the past.  There's more to do and think about.

    Ideas are brewing on this one, too.

(P.S.  Tomorrow, I have a giveaway to share!)

New toys and thoughts

    There have been a lot of comings and goings, but finally back home.

    The workshop was good.  Christine is wonderful and generous with sharing her wealth of know-how, inspiration, materials, and ideas.  There was lots of playing, especially with trying out printing ideas.  Aiming for a new layer on the cloth, I experimented with this clever little press, gelli plate printing, indigo, and cyanotype.

    I really enjoyed exploring this liquid cyanotype process.  An area is painted with the mixture and then exposed to sunlight.

    There were experiments with overlapping layers, wet and dry fabric, and using various objects to create shapes.

    And then collaging things together...

    There are still some questions and ideas to try, and I'm looking forward to diving further.

More turquoise, & tea

    First fresh indigo experiment using the salt method.  Two leaves, some salt, and a scrap of cotton (it already had some iron or walnut smudges on it) and of silk.  Enjoyed the process and results very much, thanks again, Deb!

    Played with one in my dream that night.  Something I always wanted as a kid (along with Colorforms), but never got.

    While working on the turquoise patchwork from the last post, I thought about hot pink and orange.  The next day a friend handed me this beautiful silk scarf that had accidently been chewed up by her washing machine.

    It was just the right thing.

    The green side of turquoise with shimmering velvet.  Her name is "Opal".

    Someone shared the story of when their husband first said, "I love you."  A very romantic mountain top moonlit moment.  Which triggered my own memories... I said it first to K.  Sixteen, New Year's Eve, got up my gumption and blurted out, "I realize that I love you!" 

    His reply, "That's great!"  (Heart swelled with hope.)  "I realized that I love L.!"  (Deflation of heart.)  "Isn't this great, all of this love going on!"

    No.  No, it was not great, but I put on a cheery face, bided my time (knowing that L. was not interested in him), and got my declaration four months later.  Boys.

 

    Speaking of boys.  Moon has been home a week.  He is so in love with math.  There are pieces of paper like the above scattered throughout the house, representing his attempts at sharing this passion with us.  It may as well be written in ancient Greek.  He doesn't understand that we don't understand, so we nod and smile with awe.

    It's been good to spending time with Moon, having long conversations, hearing what he's thinking about (besides math), and it's been really useful too. 

    K. has been struggling with arthritis in his hip, and the fall last January pushed it all downhill.  Replacement surgery is scheduled (The first available appointment was in November!).  The steep long staircase to the bedroom is too much for now, especially since the only bathroom is on the main floor.  I did offer to move out of my studio room, but thankfully his reply was, "There is so much wrong with that idea."  So, there's been a mattress and box spring in the living room for the last month or so.  Moon helped to move the heavy furniture into a better arrangement.  At least now the bed isn't the first thing you see when you walk in the door.

"Here in the Turquoise Sea"

    Yesterday's turquoises.  The silk waves on top of the boat were the same as the brighter back wave until they were dropped into the morning tea. 

    Stitched while singing an old family favorite from when the boys were young.  Have a listen here, I'll bet you'll be humming too...

    "...They play on the beaches the colour of peaches, there by the turquoise sea, oh, my...under a blue, blue sky..."

Turquoise

    "1: a mineral that is a blue, bluish-green, or greenish-gray hydrous basic phosphate of copper and aluminum, takes a high polish, and is valued as a gem when sky blue

    2: a light greenish blue" (merriam-webster.com)

 

    Also called sea, sky, river, jewel, lake, beach glass, pond, robin's egg, ocean, and a deeply loved blue.

 

    One of the things brought home from Maiwa's was a packet of turquoise iDye.  Really, I'm not a dyer.  There is the midsummer indigo vat and the bucket full of the neighbor's walnut husks.  But there was something about the idea of "turquoise" and it being a small packet that could be done in the washing machine that created a craving.

    Even though the directions were simple and straight-forward, I was nervous.  Waiting until K. left town for a few days, so as not to have any witnesses if it all went haywire, I went to the basement.  Before getting the load going, I accidently knocked the directions and the packet behind the washer and dryer.  There is no way to reach behind them.  Ugh.  I considered climbing on top of them and leaning way over, but wondered how long it might take for a rescue, or body discovery, if I slipped?  While wondering if it might be a sign to abandon the plan, I was reminded why you do want me with you on that desert island.  A long dowel was found, duct taped around one end (with the sticky side out), both items were retrieved, and... ta-da!

    A pile of dreams.  I wish that I had taken a before photo.

    It was a mishmash of scraps of many colors, including some of that childhood rosey soft sheet.

    Moon is home for the summer.  We are settling in, figuring out routines, remembering how to be with each other again.

    This feels like stitching fresh air...

Week before last

    Monday and Tuesday I drove to Whidbey Island to attend and assist Christine Mauersberger's "Meditative Stitching" workshop.  

    Two peaceful quiet stitching days listening to Christine's insights with lovely women.

    Tuesday's sunrise seen on the ferry. 

    I probably drove more last week than I have in the last year put together.  I have such anxiety about driving, especially now that I do it so infrequently, but it was good to rediscover that I'm capable-ish.

    One day at home, spent packing myself and Moon.  Thursday we drove him up to Bellingham.  Because of COVID restrictions and his being SO READY to start this new chapter, the three of us made three trips with his boxes to the third floor dorm room, and I barely had time to even get misty-eyed during the quick goodbye hugs, in the rush to get us out of there in his thirty allowed slotted minutes.  (Deb, I did wave across town to you!)

    And then I drove back to the island, returning home on Monday night.

    My work table during the four days of Christine's "Binding Time" workshop.  More lovely women, and much more active.  Indigo pots, cyanotype, stitching, gelli plate printing, collaging, and more!  (Including dyeing some thread in my tea (above).)

    There's not much call for sequins in my life, but I do love them.  It was great to have time to play, to work and share with other makers, and to spend time hanging out with Christine during prep, clean up, etc.

    There was a crazy wind storm one day.  The kind of wind that tries to move your car off of the road.  Power was out for some of the island that evening, including the place where I stayed.  Leftovers were wrapped in foil and heated up on the barbeque, and I was in bed at 7:45 due to the dark and cold.

    The clouds were incredible.

    The workshops were held in this spacious building.

    Each day was a new story in the sky.

    There's more to say, but this is a start... hope you are all well.

skies & writing

    Still dreaming in pink skies.

    Some dipping in blue.

        Yesterday I realized that I had grabbed the wrong red thread in the middle of the quote on the SJSA block.  But, even with an opportunity to redo some of the words, I'm noting that my handwriting isn't any better in stitch than it is with a pen.  Still more work to do on this.  How I wish I could sit side by side with the young artist and do this together.  This is an exercise in letting go.

pink echoes

    Following Jude's advice for rinsing her gifts of red, these scraps were pinned to what's left of an old walnut/tea dyed silk shirt, and then put through the wash.  (She shares more thoughts about this process in her series).  The resulting pinks are pretty. 

    There was a time when I didn't think residual rosiness was quite so swell...  

    We had just moved into our first apartment, married two weeks.  A funky old 1920's office building with two apartments upstairs.  Other than here, it's my favorite place we've ever lived...  Anyhow, downstairs there was a washer and dryer (one quarter for a wash, and a dime for thirty minutes in the dryer!).  K. went to do the laundry.  There weren't that many whites, so he threw in his old red striped bathrobe.  You can guess what happened.  Pink underwear and t-shirts for a year.

    We've pretty much been doing our own laundry since.

stitches, ties, half-hitches & more...

    Today was spent at a wonderful workshop taught by an old friend, "Shibori + Indigo: Bound Resist and Vat Dye."  We prepped our samples to dip in the vat tomorrow.  Focussing for eight hours was intense, tiring and terrific.  I came home, ate the delicious dinner that Moon and K. made, took a nap, and have been prepping more.  Excited to see the results tomorrow...

in a fever

    Well, this week did not go as planned . . . 

    Growing more and more tired each day, until Thursday when I crawled into bed with fever, chills, and everything hurting from toes to finger tips.  After being in bed for fourteen hours, I spent yesterday on the couch dozing and knitting.  Finished the socks, dipped them into the tea, meaning to come back in a few minutes . . .

    An hour later, I woke up and remembered them.  Good thing I like brown.