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Archive for the ‘time management’ Category

high anxiety elixir…

Tuesday, October 13th, 2020

Somebody’s Child 2, detail. Photo credit, Digital Grange

It’s rather remarkable to me that in this time of high anxiety I have been prolific at art-making. It seems everyone I talk to or read about, including myself, is struggling with anxiety during these “uncertain”, “unprecedented,” “troubling “(insert an adjective) times. It’s remarkable to me that as my body reacts to living in these anxious times I am making art. Believe me I am grateful, but also somewhat puzzled by the whole thing.

Since my last blog post, I have finished two more pieces of narrative art. And one of them was juried into Quilt National 2021! For the uninitiated this is one of the top-drawer contemporary quilt shows in the world. One has better odds of getting hit by a meteorite than having their work juried in! I tried and tried for years with no luck. Just shy of giving up, in 2016 I entered Defining Moments 12: NO Means NO, my piece about campus rape into QN 2017 and it was juried in! I skipped 2019 as I had nothing that fit the criteria.

I entered again this year, submitting two of my recent works about politics and social justice issues. Somebody’s Child 2 was juried in. This piece was a vision in my head that proved quite difficult to execute. My initial thought was to make the layered silk organza pieces into a square, but then it occurred to me that the names would be more impactful as a list, a long skinny piece. It finished 63″ x 16″.  I also considered it as 3-D with LED lighting, sort of as a totem but it looked too much like Christmas; and this is not a festive narrative. This is a somber narrative, showing the over 4700 names of black lives extinguished at the hands of police in this century.

In the end I decided to just let the fabric do its own thing. It is three layers of digitally printed silk organza, fused together and hand-stitched with tears. I have no doubt people will whine that this is not a quilt, as it moves silently in the air! It does however meet the criteria of two layers stitched; actually being three layers, hand-stitched with tears.

It will be interesting to see how they install it, whether it will be backlit which will show the names laid askew to emphasize the horrendous number of lives lost. I likely will not be going to the opening or to see it in person, unless these “uncertain” times bring a miracle. So hopefully another artist who does attend will send me photos. To me the best thing about being in this prestigious exhibit is the other artists I meet; which is the truly sad part about not attending.

After that, I whipped together a piece about Your Tax Dollars at Work. I had the fabric commercially printed and I screen-printed the text months ago; then it languished in the studio. A 3 am design session gave me the idea of money growing on trees and after that it came together quickly. And I love it, which is always a bonus!

Your Tax Dollars at Work, a study in pork barrel projects

We are all coping with these “uncertain times” in our own ways. Some spend hours online debating/arguing/sharing political posts, others are streaming serials and movies; or baking the world’s supply of sourdough, while several friends are writing postcards, and letters to voters in other states to encourage them to do their civic duty and vote. I am so grateful to those folks for taking the time to do this important work!!! THANK YOU!

At the same time I know I would be creating more stress for myself to do the same thing. My activism is coming through in my work, for which I am enormously grateful. I even had that thought the other day, you know that one, that no one wants to consider. What will happen to all this when I am no more? Immediately I dismissed it… that’s not my problem!

So while I deluge myself in mindfulness reminders, yoga stretches, morning walks, and really annoying twice daily blood pressure checks, I continue to make art that says something. A new work is going under the machine today! Life is good in these “unprecedented’ times.

the muse is back…

Saturday, April 11th, 2020

printed cloth…does that say asses?!

A weird thing happened on the way to the pandemic..my creativity came back. A lot of folks are saying theirs has completely dried up, they are filled with anxiety and/or the only sewing they are doing is mask-making.

My creative muse has been MIA since my dear friend and project partner Marion died, nearly a year ago. How that year has flown, with my missing her all along the way. When she left my excitement for art-making went with her.  I mostly have just leaned into it, spending my time doing hand-stitching a ‘morning walk’ collage, and reading, which for me is truly foreign.

We have now been in isolation for 4 weeks tomorrow. I realized during the first week that in order to maintain my sanity I needed to not take in too much information. The nightly news, plus the “breaking news” plus the pandemic specials plus the “news” conferences plus the local news, plus all the scary stories online all became just too much. Besides hubs is watching enough for the two of us!

We all know what to do by now. Stay home, wear a mask when you do go out, wash your hands, and keep social distance from others. I don’t know about you, but it does not do me any good to be more any informed than that. It just scares me. It makes me anxious. It make me angry. It gives me nightmares. It kills my creativity. And so I simply stopped listening. Just tell me when it is over!

As my right brain creativity was awakening I was hard at work on a left brain task. That was resizing and uploading images of my work, for 7 days straight as my website was being redesigned. The timing could not have been more perfect; for once my schedule was free. It needed a contemporary makeover and I am very pleased with the outcome. I was daily reminded of just how prolific I have been at making art. And that did not even include at least 30 early works for which I had no images, other than quilts on clotheslines!  I debated how much of the Tall Girl Series to put up on the site, whereas before I had three images, and the book, which is now out of print. Finally I decided this was not the time to be shy; after all this work has been shown far and wide, in six exhibits, so I uploaded all 23 pieces.

As I was finishing that job, I began to ponder… what is next? I work best when I have the next piece (following the one I haven’t made yet) in the pipeline. So as I was taking a break from PhotoShop, I went to the basement and began to paint cloth for two new pieces. Additionally just before we went into isolation, I ran to Kinkos and made copies to create screens for printing several new works, so those were ready to go.

strip letters

Today I played around with sewing letters by strip piecing ala Chawne Kimber. It was a bit of a challenge, as sewing strips of anything is not my best work but I kept at it, while watching/listening to a recorded program. The jury is still out as to whether I will use them or not, but I kind of like them and will continue to play around until the wording is finished, before I decide.

Everyone is coping with this history-making time in their own way. I say yes! Find something you love to do, whether it be sewing masks for thousands of first responders, working in the garden, bingeing on Britbox or Netflix, baking till the cows come home, or painting anything, just do it.

And stop listening to so much news, because like it or not the anxiety and stress are not good for you either.

Be well…

 

 

 

on saying something…

Tuesday, January 21st, 2020

Lavender Garden by Connie Mygatt

Now that the bathrooms are mostly done; the last custom glass shower door goes in tomorrow and the window shades in early February; I have rehung art, that had been removed for construction. I rearranged some pieces and relegated a couple to the basement gallery. I added to our lavender bedroom wall my latest acquisition by art colleague Connie Mygatt. It is stunning!

My taste has changed, especially since becoming a visual artist myself. And just because I bought a painting years ago does not mean I have to live with it for the rest of my life. In fact one of the very best uses for used art is to donate it to a non-profit for a fundraiser. Next time there is a call for that, I will be ready.

double shower, hall, Italian tile

During the first half of the remodel my creative muse was stuck. It was probably the selection, re-selection and re-selection again of materials. Two decisions x two bathrooms on tile. Three decisions on the hallway flooring. And paint colors, oh the paint! Those decisions took up a large portion of the muse’s energy.

master/Superman-sized shower, Italian tile

Midway through the project, the muse came roaring into the studio and I designed two pieces that have been in my head for awhile…more narrative art with a political bent. Not quite ready to share but needless to say I am thrilled with how they turned out.

Today I waded through my folder of new work ideas and came up with no less than four more good ideas. I also have the wise women series, for which 5-6 interviews are completed, but somehow I am having trouble getting going on those. I believe it is a combination of two things.

My late friend Marion Coleman always encouraged me to be a storyteller, to tell these stories that need to be told. So whether it is “work that says something” i.e. of a political, or social justice bend or one of activism, I am inspired to do more of this work. Secondly, the telling of others’ stories still festers, as I decide it’s purpose in my art practice. Interestingly it is the learning of the stories that resonates for me, more than the telling. Time will tell where this series leads.

Interestingly I am learning that the ‘controversial’ work pays a price as many venues do not want to show work that is going to make folks think, or worse yet, wake up. So the decision for me becomes should I make more “pretty”  or “precious” work or should I make work that makes me think; as well as the viewer?

Long ago I decided I was not in this gig for the money. Sure if someone wants to buy my work I am not likely to turn them away. But the almighty dollar is not the reason I am an artist. I am an artist because I have something to say, and cloth seems to be the best way I can communicate it. So I will keep on doing what gives me great satisfaction and a voice.

After all, hasn’t art caused people to talk about it, for ages?

redefining creativity…

Saturday, November 30th, 2019

We are now four weeks into a projected timeline of 4-6 weeks for a double bathroom renovation. Always the optimist, but also a realist, I recognize that it will likely run 6-8 weeks. Yet I choose not to complain, as it truly is a first world problem to complain about one’s home being renovated!  It is exciting that my envisioned improvement from years ago is slowly coming to fruition. It is interesting how many tiny details are out of one’s control once the process begins though, like having to ask to use the bathroom! And also curious how one’s everyday life is totally out of sync once a routine is broken.

definitely the mediterranean spa look…

My reluctant muse had just returned and now feels stumped, unable to function properly. An example being I went downstairs to paint cloth the other day. Weeks before I had moved my design table pad and tools, as the sink is also up for replacement at some point during this project. Then thinking the shower plumbing, above the table had been completed, a few days before my anticipated painting, I had moved my printing table pad back onto the table.

I was both surprised and annoyed to find cement dust all over my print table (as the plumbing part was not done)! I managed to clear most of it off, to the floor (where it belongs) and able to print cloth, although I did get a few unexpected resist spots from the errant cement dust. When I finished painting I wisely moved the pad off the table once again, for any other unforeseen construction remnants that might occur.

where are the q-tips?

Boxes of stuff from both bathrooms line up in our bedroom, and in my studio. Artwork from the bathrooms (yes! bathrooms make wonderful art galleries!) lounge in various places, mostly on the living room floor, wrapped in towels. A bathroom mirror rests on the living room table, and so on. The truly amazing part of this is how I somehow seem to know where everything is! Hubs asked for a q-tip the other day and I found it the first place I looked, filed under Q for q-tip.  All these boxes, and everything covered in cloth to protect it from mountains of construction dust however really inhibits my creativity.

I have found the muse languishing in small interesting places, though. I finished the second of my morning walk hand-stitched collages. Mostly I stitch these when traveling or waiting somewhere, but the other day just seemed like the right time to get it done. Immediately I loaded more fabric and printed out another walk collage to stitch. Ideally I would like to frame these but time will tell. And that is another of the bonuses of new bathrooms. We decided it best to repaint the bathrooms as well as the hall. I spackled all the holes and when I get back to rehanging artwork I may make different choices!

hand-stitched morning walk, detail

knitting ufos

I also culled my studio, which I try to do on an annual basis. And glory be, found a bag full of UFO knitting projects. Long ago started then forgotten. So I whip stitched three long strips together to make a very cool scarf….like I need another scarf! Now I am adding onto three random pieces to potentially connect them all for a shawl or maybe a dog blanket! At any rate, although I can’t seem to get in there and make big art, I can make small stuff, which is keeping me sane through this transition.

One thing I know for sure. When all is complete, none of this will matter. Our new kitchen is now 5 years old, and never is there a day when I think of the timeline, the delays and the inconvenience. No, I just think of how blessed I am to have a fully-functional beautiful kitchen. And for that I am grateful.

Oh and about the scarves…I have a vast collection of primarily artist-made scarves. In fact just ordered another for my birthday! My theory is when I am really old I can have one black outfit and wear a different scarf everyday! Small blessings…

restarting the engines…

Thursday, August 22nd, 2019

after and before step one in the makeover

As many of you know my creative mojo aka the muse went south just before Marion died in April. It has gotten progressively docile this summer, and brought the realization that this is likely the first summer of my entire life that I have relaxed! What a concept.

Lately I have had several days where I thought TODAY would be the day when I start in again, but alas I spent that day hand-stitching, reading or too much time ‘researching’ on the computer.

Today I decided to just start, do something, no matter what. I decided I would paint over some quilts! I have done this before, with excellent results. So why not again?

Last year I made four quilts about plastic in the oceans. While I believed it to be a timely, relevant topic, all four were repeatedly rejected from exhibits. When four quilts are rejected at least 4 times each, there is a loud and clear message there. So I decided today to just start in and overpaint one of them! If it works, I may paint them all. I have absolutely nothing to lose!

Undoubtedly it appears to the more conservative of you that I have totally ruined this quilt. I may have and yet I feel no panic, nor remorse. It is because I know I am not done yet, with the makeover. There is more to come, once the paint dries. When I laid down the paint I was greatly surprised in how thick the coverage was. It was likely caused by the 3-dimensional pieces stitched to the quilt, so I could not get a clean screen pass directly on the cloth. I decided to keep going and work with it! What, me worry? Nah it just presented me with a new challenge. It is after all these challenges that both keep my brain young and keep me making art.

Stay tuned…

 

grief and paying it forward…

Saturday, July 6th, 2019

peeling back the layers…

Before we went to Ireland and very nearly after we returned I was hammered by deep grief. This is definitely one of those subjects people do not want to think about, let alone talk about; which becomes part of the problem. I remembered the ‘stages’ of grief from my hospice training twenty years ago, and yet I could not peg myself into the exact stage I was in.

So I did what any logical person would do, I googled it. I found It’s Ok That You Are Not OK by Megan Devine on Amazon which I quickly loaded to my Kindle. I read for days and quite quickly figured out the reason this grief was so different from past griefs. This one was deep, deeper than any before it.

Two things lifted me out of it. I know it is early, and it may return but so far, so good. The two things were: realizing this grief was so deep was because in the past three years I have experienced 19 losses. NINETEEN. Nine friends have moved out of state, two friends died, one simply walked away, our old dog died, my lil sis lost in dementia, four elders died, and my dearly beloved has descended further into Parkinson’s. Yep, that’s a few…

The other thing that worked was writing. As you know if you read this often, I love to write. It is often how I figure things out, as in self-therapy. So I pulled up a chair and began to write about these 19 losses, and how sorrowful I feel about my husband’s illness, whereas before I have only felt anger…another stage of grief. The only reason I write this down, in my blog, is to bring grief out of the closet.

A piece of my immobilizing grief was how will this affect my art practice? Will I ever make art again? Am I done? Is this it? Who am I if not an art-maker? 

I don’t believe I am done. I have a lot more I want to say. I am doing a lot of hand-stitching which is really meditative and when I sit in my studio, surrounded by cloth and colors, I know my work here is not finished. It’s funny, this muse. It can take you down as fast as it can lift you up. I trust, and do honestly believe there is more to come.

Interestingly enough, the muse, and Marion have already led me in a new direction. I have decided to mentor a good friend on her creative path. I have thought of it before, and always stopped as I know I cannot change other people’s behavior, although I have vast experience in trying to…i.e., 48 years of marriage! And yet this time it became abundantly clear that Marion had a hand in this.

Marion was not only an extraordinary friend; she was the most generous artist I have ever met. Even as her days were numbered, she was encouraging me to apply for a public art project or submit work for an art purchase. So often she pushed me out of my comfort zone, to consider my long-term & end goals for my art, and to do stuff that just plain scared me. Would I ever have applied for a grant were it not for Marion? No. Did I get a grant? Yes! 

So I have decided to pay it forward, with gratitude. I don’t need to change anyone’s behavior but rather share the generosity that was bestowed on me; to push her out of her comfort zone and encourage her to do the stuff that scares.

This person knew Marion solely through my work and respected her so very much. She called recently to wish me a happy opening to our upcoming exhibit in San Diego, which she perceived might be difficult for me, so soon after Marion’s death. She is a big fan of both Marion’s work and of my work. It just seems as though Marion is orchestrating this, from the great beyond.

I anticipate my friend’s creativity will grow, as will my own.

the loss of civility…

Tuesday, May 21st, 2019

bloomin’ peony

Yesterday I was reminded why I quit the lecture circuit. I really enjoyed speaking to guilds and groups for the years I did it; until I didn’t. I remember exactly what group I spoke to when I decided to stop. I told people I was no longer giving lectures because of the wear & tear on my body. In reality it was the wear & tear on my nerves that did me in.

I was reminded yesterday as I bore witness to what happened to me, happening to another speaker. I was present to hear a 90 min lecture on trash & recycling, given by an employee of the garbage hauler. Her job is to educate communities and companies about sorting their trash, compost & recycling, to ease the demand on the public landfill, which is filling at an alarming rate.

The landfill was rapidly filling before the rash of wildfires and floods, where hundreds of homes were destroyed; and their contents dumped there. Since I have become obsessed with plastic in our oceans and on our beaches, I wanted to hear what this woman had to say.

She started by saying she would take questions after her presentation. She had not said two sentences when someone interrupted her with a question, then another, then another, then side conversations. She reminded the group of seniors that she would take questions after the presentation. She started in again. A guy interrupted asking if she really thought anyone was going to read this brochure of garbage policies? Then continued to rail her about how stupid it is for a corporation making millions of dollars to hope that educating people about garbage is just that, garbage.

And what about the Mexicans, another woman shouted. They don’t sort their trash, she said, adding she was not racist.

The speaker continued, slightly rattled. Another interruption, and another, and another. One woman pointed out that she could improve her presentation with a handout, to which the speaker told the woman she was holding the handout! It just went on and on and on.

I found myself getting upset by all the interruptions, and also by the speaker, unable to ‘control’ the room. My thoughts migrated from trash talk to anger over the lack of civility in the room. Perhaps a whip and a chair was necessary?

What really annoyed me was how do two generations (the “greatest” and the boomers) who were raised to be so friggin’ polite, courteous and considerate behave like a bunch of spoiled children in a public forum? Since when has a lecture become a public discussion group? A lot of the questions people peppered the speaker with were answered in her presentation, had they only listened.

Some might blame our current administration, which granted has done nothing to encourage public civility. But my last lecture was 7 years ago when this behavior first began to annoy me.

The last time I gave a lecture was in a college town to a group of quilters about photo editing. Everyone in the room was an expert on the subject and they interrupted me constantly. I began to question why they even came to hear me when they were all experts? I decided right there at the podium, that I was never going to do this again. And I blamed it predominantly on this being a college environment. Little did I know…

Yesterday I learned it is not just the millennials, it is pervasive in our society. Perhaps the old folks have lost their ability to communicate as much as the kids never learned it in the first place. We have lost our ability to communicate with civility. What a sad situation.

The conclusion I came to from yesterday’s meeting is I will continue to conserve, recycle and use as little plastic as possible. I will not become an activist though. It just makes me too angry. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days arguing in public with people who just don’t listen.

I’d rather go into a quiet room, turn on some music and make art.

 

catching up…

Saturday, May 11th, 2019

detail, Weathered Wood

I have lost all inspiration to make new work since Marion died…well actually before then. The muse slowed down earlier this year. Immediately after her death I was occupied with returning files and quilts to her family, and then started in on my own to-do list, which had grown to mammoth proportions.

I received the shipment of catalogs for our exhibit Defining Moments: Stitched Perspectives on Becoming A Woman, and put that up on my website. The 48 pg catalog will also be available at exhibit venues.

Earlier in the year I had finished and blocked two hand-stitched pieces, so I bought gallery-wrap canvas and mounted those to the frame. I have gotten quite skilled at using the electric stapler and the Phillips screwdriver. What I found most frustrating is the available sizes of wrapped canvas.

Reflections of the Seine

The local art supply store had a generous 16″ x 16″, but no 14″ x 14″ which I really wanted for my stitched pieces of morning walks. So I went to the big box chain and they had neither 14″ nor 16″ squares but they had lots of 11″ x 14″ rectangles. So I came home and googled it and basically learned that 14″ x 14″ does not exist but if I want to custom order it, I can do so for a mere $85 each.

catalog cover, Defining Moments: Stitched Perspectives on Becoming A Woman

I suppose I could make my own, but I am at that age where time is far more important than money; but not so much so that I am going to pay $85 for a canvas gallery wrap! As if framing hand-stitched work is not straying far enough from my usual work, making frames for such is pushing it just too far, as far as I am concerned. I am trying to use up my supplies, not add a whole lot more. Just like I decided not to ferment my own veggies, I don’t need another hobby.

So I got these done, documented and up on my website. I have finished 5-6 entries for upcoming exhibits, need to prep a piece to ship this week, and continue to whittle down the list.

Then perhaps… I will be so moved (or not) as to actually start the new series, which has been researched and waiting in the wings for a year now.

 

with gratitude…

Thursday, April 25th, 2019

Tall Girlfriends, 36″ x 29″, 2017, by Marion Coleman

Yesterday my dear friend Marion Coleman died. While I have known the end was near for months, I have been unable to articulate my sorrow until now. Marion was my fourth close friend to fight and lose the vicious battle, that is cancer. The one thing I have learned, other than cancer sucks, is how important it is to gather the goodness each one brought into my life, and to cherish it. By carrying their richness, they live on, in my heart.

I met Marion in 2003 at a SAQA regional meeting. It was the first meeting for both of us, and in Sacramento which means we both had made an effort to be there. I thought to myself, who is that exquisite tall black woman?! She shared later she had spotted me that same day. I continued my observation for about a year, until I asked her to mentor me on my Tall Girl project. I knew it was going to be a difficult story to tell, and that I might need someone to prod me, and had witnessed her to be an articulate, smart, gifted, get-things-done woman!

She asked me to write a business plan to define my goals for the project. She was the calm voice of reason when I needed it; and instrumental in my finding the way through the jungle of my repressed stories. She encouraged me by saying how much my story would help others, and challenging me to always aim higher. As a result I was able to secure six venues for the exhibit, including the National Quilt Museum. We talked then about doing a collaborative project of our own. We, women of two very different worlds had a lot of similarities which needed airing and sharing. It is our job as elders to tell these stories she would say.

In 2014 we met over lunch in Berkeley to discuss the particulars of that project we had spoken of years earlier. The time was ripe to finally start. It was to be an autobiographical project examining the contrasts and parallels of our lives as two tall aging women; one African American, one Caucasian. She had grown up in the Jim Crow south and I, in her words, in an affluent white suburb of San Francisco. One would think we had nothing in common, and yet we shared an incredible number of similarities, both as kids and as adults. Meaty subject matter, this one!

We were both approaching our 7th decade, which brought its own unique set of challenges. Since she was a year older than I, we set my 70thas the deadline, which bought us another year! She chose our working title for the series, Defining Moments: Stitched Perspectives on Becoming A Woman. She said we needed to each design a solid 25 museum-size pieces. Sure, twenty-five large pieces in three years’ time… I can do that! (what? are you nuts?!) And so, we began.

Early on, I learned that we had very individual ways of working. I, of the spreadsheet tribe, mapped out all my ideas and designed the work in chronological order. She was deadline driven, and made the work as it came to her, in between other projects, designing public art, solo exhibits, curating Neighborhoods Coming Together, and mentoring youth. Some of her work went in and out of the series, and yet it all came together in the end. Because all of her work was narrative, it fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

People kept asking me… how many has she completed? Is she going to finish? What if she doesn’t get them done? And so on. I never lost faith. I just recognized she had a different style of working than I did, and that it would all sort out, as it did.

Defining Moments 25: Homage

Our 25th piece was to be a true collaboration and we tossed out all sorts of ideas via Skype. (We both disliked the 90 minute drive in traffic which stood between us.) When it became too painful for her to work, she was unable to finish the project, let alone our grand finale, #25. I designed my own #25 Homage, in honor of her, my friend, my mentor, my project partner. She told me the piece made her cry.

In the end she had stitched thirteen pieces and we still have a robust exhibit, which makes its debut in July at Visions Art Museum in San Diego for a 3-month run.  Even as she lay gravely ill, she graciously allowed me to take possession of her work so that our committed exhibits will still be seen.

catalog cover, Defining Moments: Stitched Perspectives on Becoming A Woman

In the last month I have been designing the catalog for our exhibit. I called her frequently with questions: details that if one were dying would not seem terribly important. Yet she was always so kind and patient, even thanking me for pulling it all together for our exhibit. How does one even wrap their head around that? It is just who she was, the epitome of grace and kindness. I just feel it so important that her work continues to be shown.

Marion was the most generous-of-spirit woman, and particularly artist, I have ever met. There is so much professional jealousy in this field (although how professional is it to be jealous?)  She believed when one succeeds, we all succeed. There is enough for everyone. She always shared calls for entry for exhibits, public art, grants, internships, fellowships, etc. She taught me so much as an artist, as a woman. I will always reach higher and push through the fear because of her.

She made me laugh when talking about grants though. She would say I should apply for this grant or that grant. I HATED the idea and would say, no, if I need money I will just go to the bank (a white privilege response if there was ever one). She would say…Girl, they are just giving away money and you need to get you some! Finally, I relented and applied for a couple of grants and actually got one! Oh, happy day. They were just giving it away, just like she said!!!

Five years ago, I asked her about her end goal for her art, and she said she wished to be recognized as a NEA Heritage Fellow. Well, talk about manifestation! Last September she was recognized as a 2018 NEA Heritage Fellow, one of NINE in the entire country. Beyond this extraordinary achievement, was the timing, when she was so gravely ill. She gathered together her nearest and dearest and flew to DC, and on to NY to accept this great honor, bestowed on her. It gave me such joy for her end goal to be met, and for her to live to experience it.

I haven’t spoken much publicly of her illness these past 15 months, out of respect. It was her story to tell. But, now, be prepared for shameless self-promotion of Defining Moments and the ongoing exhibition of the exquisite artwork of my dear friend, Marion Coleman. She lives on through her art.

My deepest sympathies to her kids Mel, Lisa, Eric and Tina; to her sister Sharon for taking such extraordinary care of her these past four months. And to her two grand-girls, siblings and stepmother. And to all the people whose lives she touched. She was loved and admired by so many.  How blessed we all were to know her.

She and Nyls are together again. RIP dear one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

editing within an inch of my life…

Tuesday, April 2nd, 2019

threads begging to be stitched

I recently received a request to be interviewed and featured on a blog titled Create Whimsy. I read the interviews of several colleagues and decided it was a good idea, so I have been answering the interview questions, then editing the file within an inch of my life.

I also needed to take some photos of my studio. With a southern exposure window there it is nearly impossible to get a good image in the daytime. I waited until evening, then noticed the shelves were messy, as if an artist had actually been working in there! So last night I spent tidying the shelves! Finally this afternoon I sent the whole shebang off. Who knew it would take me so long?!

got fabric?

What really came to me in the process of editing my interview was my personal battle of being seen vs. being unseen. When I was younger, much younger actually, I felt so unseen that I could not talk about myself enough. Some people might still think that is the case!

As I have matured and big brother has stepped into my life, I feel the need to be much more private. It may be an aging thing, but I am resistant to say too much about myself, online. So while I want to answer the questions appropriately and have the interview at least be interesting, I am not excited about laying it all out there. Decades ago I never would have thought this a possibility.

But then decades ago we did not have people be able to look into every detail of our lives. We did not have big brother buying groceries for us, as evidenced by the new credit card which only has to be waved near the machine. We did not have companies prodding we buy knee pads or sprain bandages as soon as we simply mention to our spouse that the treadmill stress test partially injured the soft tissue of the foot. I suppose if I examined it too closely, I would turn off all devices and pick up an abacus. Hey I eat like a cave-woman, why not be one?

One of the questions that tripped me up was what I have learned about myself from making my art? I’ve learned that I have the ability to change the narrative, to contemplate other ways of thinking, being, doing, speaking, reacting. And as a result of this effort, I learn more every day, about the world and my place in it. Yet how detailed did I want my response to be? I tweaked the answer to that question for a long time. All of this assumes though that anyone cares enough to even read the interview!

Meanwhile, I have been working away on all sorts of things. The dreaded big purple bed quilt went off to the quilter, and returned last week on the rainiest of rainy days. It now awaits a binding, which has been prepared, and will potentially be stitched on this weekend.

I also finished the catalog for the upcoming Defining Moments exhibit, and just received the 2nd proof in the mail. It is nearly soup, I believe, which is a relief as our first exhibit is coming along this summer.

I whipped out a fast piece on climate change that has been rolling around in my cranium for awhile, which I will show at a later date. I tossed and turned over the title for a new series, and think I have finally figured out a good name for that. Stay tuned.

Now that my studio shelves are clean, it’s time to mess them up a bit!