These two, one of Jude's moons and a mountain shaped scrap, were at the top of the pile. Red is not a usual go-to, but I wanted to see if something could come of them. Deb's thread helped.
Thinking about what I have, how to work with that, how to think about things and approach them differently... in cloth, too. A story about transition, as I head into the last week of my school job.
Seattle is beautiful right now. My eyes are very grateful for the bright sunshining days to stitch in. On the way to school, the lake sparkles in the morning light with Mt. Rainier majestic in the distance. Walking in the arboretum, I keep stopping to admire the pretty Magnolia blossoms and cherry trees that line the paths. There were also two ravens calling and flying in the tree tops the other day, the first time I've seen them here. Some pieces are getting ready for a shop update tomorrow. The finishing process has become a ritual that I really love. A quick loose sketch is made of each cloth with a few words or thoughts about it. One by one, I hold them, feeling and listening for story, until it all comes together...
Again, and again, thank you for the kind kindred comments on my last posts, so very glad for how this circle holds, OXO.
K and I stayed up, blurry eyed, until midnight, only because Moon needed a ride home from his new girlfriend's.
We always race to be the first to say, "Rabbit, rabbit!" to each other on the first day of the month. I won with all three guys. Maybe this means there will be wondrous luck in this new year? Blue even had a nine hour head start over in Prague, but I'm sure he is having too good of a time to think of silly things from back home.
We spent a couple of hours today digging out an overflowing spot in the basement. Fourteen bags and boxes went to donations. Things that can be new for others.
Today, a new blue start with a soft lavender moon from Jude, while listening to nice music.
A new day, week, year. It's a kind of magic trick that a number on the calendar is able to make things feel open and possible. Whatever the illusion, I'm very glad for its trick of lightness this time around.
I hadn't thought to choose a word for the year, or resolutions, etc... But as the year was unwinding to a weary close last night, the word "ease" rocked back and forth. How to find, bring, share, and settle into it? I wish I could create pockets of peace and comfort, in myself and our space. Corners of home have filled up with with clutter and angst. I don't have a recipe for how to get from Here to Tranquility, but maybe with a bit of elbow grease and a few folk songs we can move into the neighborhood?
Wishing all of us oodles of ease and a very peace filled new year!
Jude inspired some dotty thinkings. Not quite sure, but curious about how the swiss dots/clipped spots might work, I decided to give it a whirl, because what's not to love about dots?
Jude described the making of them as "...extra threads are loose woven all the way across the cloth and just caught in certain spots. They are clipped back later." So, it started with threads going across. Because of the tiny gap from each stitch, I worried that the dots would open up to the sides when they were cut, rather than stand straight up. Going back and forth at different angles seemed like a possible solution.
The first few were made with lots of little loops which were then trimmed down. After these, the quest for success went all over the place. The best ones were stitched by pulling the needle all the way through to the back of the cloth, and then bringing the needle straight back up as close as possible, allowing the threads to be packed into the same hole.
Insecurity made me tie a knot through the gathered threads with the last stitch. (My trust issues need more work.)
What will be carried into the next attempt: They took longer than imagined, and a lot of thread. They'll be made further apart. I'd like to try the line method again, this time with the needle passing all the way through to each side with each stitch, or maybe working them from the center out, spiraling rather than in lines. So many ways to go...
I'm sure this was a wackadoodle way of going about this- but they are cute, quite fuzzy, fun to touch, and it was really good to play.
Something about these two touches a different place in my love of fairy tales. I'm struggling to put words to it. It's about mysteries inside of the ordinary. A galaxy within a knothole, a chunk of crystal opening up to the universe.
Sitting here in the living room, looking around... The cigar box that holds finished cloths, what if the lid lifted and it turned out to be the bedroom of a tiny being using these cloths for quilts, or if violets were growing behind the books on the shelves and just beginning to peek out from between them? What if every nook and cranny held secret worlds?
Something inside swells with awe while imagining a breaking open that exposes unexpected and dazzling. The idea of there being more, and magic, possibly anything... It makes the ordinary extraordinary.
Wishing you such imaginings, too.
( "Secret Places" and "When Crystals Crack" are in the shop.)
Tonight, in the dim of the lamp, this little one inch home, filled with and surrounded by light. Just as I feel in the midst of this community. After posting last night, I went to bed, and then woke up in the middle of the night in a panic. "Why did I write all of that?!?" But after getting out of bed, turning on the computer and seeing that there were already a couple of supportive comments, I knew it was all ok, and went back to sleep.
A dream came- of being in Grandma Blanche's bar. It was filled with family and others from the past. Many acting in the same old ways. Someone was trying to convince me it wasn't so bad, but standing there, in the middle of it all, I said, "Yes, it is." and walked out.
Thank you, again, to all of you who are a part of this wonderful circle. Onward we all go...
The quilting is done, and binding begun. While working on it during choir rehearsal the other night, seat mates asked about it. When describing how the cloth might be used by the children who work with Wendy, there was a quick thought of the cloth being a place to get lost in, but instantly I knew that was wrong.
What I hope, what I really want this cloth to do, is for it to be a place where children might catch glimpses of memories, of parts of themselves. Parts that have been forgotten or lost along the way. Pieces of themselves they didn't dare hold onto as they worked to survive their worlds. Places that hold their dreams, wishes, wants, and hopes.
That's probably a lot to expect from cloth and thread, but I'm holding on to my own wishes, wants and hopes.
Continuing on with the "Child Cloth". With a star from Jude.
And a gift of a scrap of constellations. Continuing with that, too. (fyi- soap slivers are great for drawing stitching lines with. They wash away easy-peasy.)
Things to wish on, and to chart a way through with.
or anytime.
Lost and full.
Possibilities & stuck.
Things could go either way, or nowhere,
or anywhere.
I don't know what I was thinking?
I know I wanted the moon to be made of something, not just a stitched outline.
And I saw that Edwardian ball gown sitting on the shelf. There are scraps of silk attached to the tulle that's been used for some sails. The silk is so fragile, it tears at the touch, sometimes the thread pulls through it, and even if I get it to work, it may all crumble away.
But I imagined what it might be, and now I'm in it. We'll see.
