handstories

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.

Crux

    Walnut ink painted onto cloths dyed with fresh indigo and in that turquoise wash.

 

 

    A moment from yesterday. Rainbow in my blue room (on a wall that could use repainting, just like the rest of the house), Story quilt, and the bedpost of the childhood bed. I should say childhoods...Moon’s, Blue’s, nephews, brother’s, mine, and Dad‘s in the foster home that he grew up in. 

    I’ve been thinking about the soul this week, what it is, how to stay in the space of it.  I was told that it’s a place of who we are, all we are, all we might be.  That all the things that we think and believe about ourselves are just thoughts, reactions, responses, and often judgements. So, I’m spending moments trying to step outside of thinking, and observe the What and Why.

    During the first attempt, I remembered watching Dad at his mom's wake as he struggled to grasp timelines and his past.  Suddenly, I could see the small boy of who he had been, who didn't know what had happened to his world or where his parents had gone.  It was the first true understanding of the why he was the way he was, and the beginning of feeling some compassion and forgiveness for him.

 

 

    I’m also trying to understand walnut ink.  It was dried, ironed, wetted, and then smooshed with a couple of indigo leaves and salt.

 

    What a beautiful green it was.

 

    After drying and rinsing, the rings were barely visible.

 

    And begin again.  I don't know anything about this ink.  It is from a workshop a few years ago.  Maybe I need to make my own?  Either I will figure this out or just keep the ink away from water.

    A Table Story...  Years ago, at a craft fair, M., a friend, bought the bear necklace.  I loved it too, but there was only one.  Recently, M. gave it to me.  She lives on my worktable.  Her occasional adventures are photographed and texted to M.  Yesterday she and the "Story" doll (made by Cathy Cullis years ago) celebrated the finishing of this piece under a sunny scrap of Deb's cloth with party favors of a jay feather and a piece of a tumbleweed from a road trip with M.

    It's funny how elements of stories that have been looked at over and over can suddenly take on new meanings.  That memory of Dad, after all of these years, seems to have opened a door to some understanding and compassion for me too.

"Soul Work"

    I'm keeping this one.

Hoping

"Holding Hope"

Here

    Deb and Tina's cloths melting together with one of the indigo moons from last summer's vat.  A new thing with the rings, instead of just stitching.  Trying to make them more of the story, their own stories, too.  A bit fiddly, but still enjoyable, especially playing with bias possibilities and limits.

    These rings of color and light make me think of a rainbow. Dismantled and reconstructed at the same time.

    There was rain yesterday, all day, the kind that makes you think "monsoon season".  We didn't mind.  We worked quietly at our own things.  Quiet except for the Stellar Jay that yelled outside the window most of the afternoon.  Complaining about the rain, I think.

    Two of the rings are from new cloths.  It's been a long time since I was in a fabric store.  It was kind of like a visit to a candy shop- beautiful and overwhelming.  I bought a few fat quarters, which may have been chosen partly for their selvedge messages.  I used to be excited by the color dots on the edges, but now there are whole thoughts!

"Here We Are"

Week in Review ***

(*** Friends of ours eat all of their leftovers on the weekends, they call it "Week in Review".)

"Circles Held Her"

    Unexpectedly, the houses are still coming.  I want to learn some photo collage skills, to create a village of these stories of home for myself.

    The evening birds seem much more contented than the morning ones.  More songlike, rather than desperate "Let's get going!" tweets.  Remembering the mornings of hungry little ones and the rush to get everyone everything and out the door on time.

    LOTS of Jude's thread beads happening.

    Sometimes I end up feeling dotty from them.  Deb's thread and cloth must have had the same dye recipe, and Tina's yellow framing cloth is the icing on the cake.

    I've been listening to books from the library while I stitch these days.  Finished a lovely middle reader Caribbean fairy-sea-tale yesterday, A Comb of Wishes, and am now partway into Cloud Cuckoo Land.  What a change in required concentration level!

    A boat stitched while thinking of dearest friend who is out at sea for the next couple of weeks.  She leads a life of adventure with new experiences and people at every turn- a glittering existence.  In my quiet lamp lit corner, I sometimes wonder how we found and held onto each other over the last twenty plus years?

    Walking through Seattle in springtime, it's hard to remember to watch where you're going.  I'm often tripping over the sidewalk cracks or getting dizzy from craning my neck to the sky and tree tops.

    On Earth Day, someone on Instagram posted their visit to Walden's Pond.  I was there 24 years ago last January with K., visiting my sister, and six months pregnant with Blue.  The pond was frozen over.  I stepped out onto the ice so that I could say that I was on Walden's Pond.  K and my sister's guy stood on shore shouting at me to, "Bring the baby back on land!"

"Itzel" Mayan for "rainbow".

    Wishing you all a colorful week of glittery things.

Comforts of home

"The Wonderland of Home"

    Sometimes, while working on a piece, I scribble down thoughts.  "Home, moon, window, making, light, heart, shine, through lines, woven, tending, care... where is home, there is home, home stories, homemaker, maker of home..." were the words that came while stitching this cloth.  There was a lot of joy in the making of this one.

   

    Home has been even more of a comforting space lately.  K and I are settling into new routines now that it's just the two of us again.  Memories of our first fifteen years without kids float around.  There is so much less to do for just the two of us, except the chores.  Although, there is a lot less to clean without two boys coming and going.  We've been divvying up the jobs that first Blue, and now Moon have left behind.  I was embarrassed to discover that I didn't know how to work the vacuum!  In my defense, Blue and Moon have done the weekly vacuuming for the last decade or so, and I do sweep.  Confessing my homemaker deficiency to K, and adding that I hate vacuuming (lugging the contraption from the basement stairs, the noise, the hassle of changing the attachments, etc.), I was thrilled when he said that he enjoyed it!  Hallelujah!  I have willingly taken over the litter box instead.

    And today, a new boat beginning.  I always come back to them.  They're a comfort, too.  A kind of centering and symbol of going.  A reminder of who I am, or might be.

Gathering light

"How it Would Be"

    A thin moon layer of Heike's dyed silk allows Deb's wonder cloth to shine through.

"Unexpected Rainbows"

    Bigger than usual, 9" x 7".  More of Deb's cloth sailing in the breeze.

    My favorite spot.

    Life is in a tunnel right now, but there are a couple of lights twinkling at the end of it. 

    Spectrums.

    I have the hardest time photographing paintings.  The light is rarely right.

    Two friends, by two favorite artists.  "Story" made by Cathy Cullis many years ago (resting in a bluebird tea cup that matches one belonging to a dear friend.  She gave it to me so that we could imagine having tea together anytime), and a painting by Amanda Blake, "She Kept Herself Safe".  It was a rare spontaneous instantaneous purchase a few years ago.  I named her "Lucinda," and just looked up the meaning- light, of course.  They are across the table directly in front of me as I stitch.  Keeping company and an eye on things.  There are a few more friends here, but these two are giving me meaningful looks today

    The teacup friend texted today, "Are you ok?" 

        "Nope.  But trying to be."

"Gathering Light"

   Or "Audrey the Third" if you're Dee (ha, inside joke).  A Threadcrumb moon, deep purple wave by Tina and the sky, and reverse-side patch in the bottom corner, are a Maiwa cloth.

A thousand little things &/or stitches

    Thinking about the cycles that happen with stitching, and in relationships.  Both seem slow going and growing at times.

    Last night I dreamt that I was transported to Italy.  So happy, I tried to call Deb G. to tell her, but then the sky exploded with flames...

    The relationship with this bird is tenuous at best.  I fill the birdbath each morning and try to keep out of sight when he shows up.  Landing in the Japanese maple outside the window of the front room, yelling at me if I'm within view.  The other morning he saw me and then went to the porch, continuing to yell on the other side of the door, while snacking in the window boxes.  He likes to eat alone.

    Some of these are mixed colors, many of them are not.  I have an addiction to blue paints.

One hill leads to another...

    Saturday afternoon I just needed something bigger to stitch on.  These cloths were at hand.  A comforting hill.

    With Jude's beasts in mind (I love them so).  Thinking about most of my self-portraits either have no mouth at all, or are wide open, screaming things from the deep.

    Hills.  Folks see portals.  Maybe they are the same thing?  A way through.  Or over.  Or a place to rest and make daisy chains.

 

    We are waiting to hear some news.  Which way it will go, we don't know.  Which answer will be good or hard, we don't know.  So, just hoping for how it might be.

    Layers are cut away, making new shapes to work with.  They are shifted and rearranged as they accumulate.  There are no rules, just going.

    In the middle of it all, I wonder what we want?  What we need?  How to want what we will have?  Mostly I do.

    Hills, portals, places of in-between...brinks of stories.

Far & Near

    (Apologies for yet another marathon post.  Someday I'll get back to posting regularly and briefly.)

    Thinking about hills, again.  A lifetime of thoughts and memories of them.  Using Deb's threads to wind a story through... The front hill is from her dye pot, too.  The sky is from a class a long while back.

    This week I've been missing people, groups of people, faces.  I try to smile at people with my eyes, hoping that they know that it's an effort towards connection.

    Continuing on Cameron's block using Susan Fletcher Conway's tutorial here for stars.  They're not easy for me, requiring really good light and focus, but I wanted larger filled-in stars.  They're kind of wonky, but hopefully, with a few steps back, they will shine together.  There will be 26 of them, one for each year of his life.  

    Hands representing his, holding the names of his three young boys.  Grateful for Tina's gift of a rainbow of cloth to choose from for the hearts, and wishing that I had Liz's writing-with-thread skills.

    Another day trip with and to my friend's sweet house.  She's received both of her vaccinations, which added even more ease to our time together.

    The views from the ferry were amazing that morning.  The mountains seemed so big and close.  About fifteen minutes after this photo was taken, we were crossing this bridge.

    I gave her my most recently knitted socks and she put them on straight away.  Happily they fit.

    It was a beautiful day, including a stop at a nursery.  She studied various plants, knowing exactly what she wanted to look at (and the scientific names of everything).  I pointed out the fritillaria, "You had some in your yard when you lived across the street."  She was surprised that I remembered the name.  The word fritillaria is a fun one, making it easy to recall, not to mention that the checkerboard flowers are unforgettable and magical.

    It's a marvel how a four inch container can hold a whole complex beautiful world.  This is just the feeling I want to stitch into my little story squares.

    Sitting in the sunlight stitching moonlight and starlight was delightful.

    It was approaching dusk, so the lights were lit this time.  Still want to come back at night to see them really glow.