Carol Larson - textile artist

Being one who believes in sychronicity as opposed to coincidence, it was not by accident that yesterday I happened upon The Power of Coincidence by David Richo! I looked the book over thoroughly in the bookstore and began to walk away because I already am the proud owner of many books I have yet to read, but something kept drawing me back to the book, and so I succumbed and bought it. It was not lost on me that during this week of so many synchronicities I should stumble across a book that would provide me more possibilities.

It was pure synchronicity that my sisters and I have been reunited after years of turmoil, by the campaign for my father’s quality of life. It took a manipulative and hateful woman, who is not part of our family, but very powerful in the dynamic to wake us all up to the potential that lies when the three of us work together. I feel so blessed to have taken this giant step towards healing these relationships.

It was pure synchronicity when today at lunch, I was perusing the new Quilting Arts magazine and found the exact answer I have been seeking for a new direction in my work. I could visualize what I wanted to design, but not how to get it. Now I know!

It was pure synchornicity that I agreed to accept entries for an upcoming SAQA exhibit. Because I possess all the technical skills to compile the four spreadsheets with photos, I thought it would be interesting to see the entries. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it would be such a great tutorial on following directions! Yes, I do admit that occasionally I have neglected to send the SASE or sign the form; but never have my images been the wrong size nor have I asked for an extension of the deadline because I am special. Every entrant ought to take a stab at processing entries. It is so enlightening as to how human we all are!

If I continue to ponder and notice all the synchronicities in my everyday life, I may not ever again have time to make art! I plan to keep learning and moving forward, though. In the meantime, I am married to my PC and excitedly anticipating a jaunt to Tucson next week for an Art Cloth Network meeting.

I really try to not blog about my family, but suddenly I am finding myself in a very stressful stew, and needing to vent. My father was diagnosed with dementia a few months ago and he is rapidly deteriorating. As the eldest child, I am the least like him, and really as much as an alien in this family. My lifelong work has been to learn how to peacefully co-exist with people who neither see nor respect me. It has been a very tedious journey, but one of which I had come to a very comfortable place, of kindness but detachment. And then it shifted!

Years ago in a therapy session, I was told, someday they will all turn to you, as you are the strongest. And I said, through my tears, there is no way they will ever turn to me. Just today, it hit me, that she nailed it. They are ALL turning to me.

My father’s siblings who are aged themselves, with their own healthcare issues and powerless to help him; my father’s lady friend, who is frail herself and still trying to keep all the balls in the air, all the while despising my sisters, and dragging that through the mud; my sisters who in my father’s infinite wisdom were given all the legal authority (while I was given none) to make decisions on his behalf, legal, financial and medical are turning to me, is he that bad? I have my job, I can’t help, I can’t cope, this is so sad, and on and on and on. And who is leading the orchestra?

That would be me. The one with no legal authorization is telling the chosen ones, overcome with emotion and denial, what to do.

It is a tightrope walk for me, as I recognize that I have no authority. I could just as easily turn around, go home and watch a movie. But I am the strong one, and I am able to put aside all the personality issues, rise above the bullshit, and do what needs to be done.

My own struggles at this point are in not letting it consume me; in keeping my sanity, letting go, breathing, meditating, and writing. Strangely enough, I have a super busy October planned, but I am able to change appointments and be accountable.

The incredible irony is my father was a very successful business executive. He rose to the top in his field and had an international reputation. To him, business is everything. Now, two of his daughters cannot fully engage in his care because of their careers. As I recall working people multi-task all the time. I certainly have done a lifetime of that.

This all is such an exercise in careful what you ask for. He asked for help from the two people least likely to offer it to him.

Last week I made application to become a mentor for a child. My hometown has a wonderful program that works within the schools linking up adults with kids who just need to be seen.

I ran into the ground with my former volunteer gig. I was a bereavement and office volunteer for a hospice program. Shortly after I began, the non-profit was taken over by a big corporate conglomerate and every other day there was a new sets of rules and regs. Everyone who worked there was stressed out and soon I too became stressed. It was too much like a job; and being retired for nearly 9 years now, I choose to not have that kind of stress in my life.

So I thought for a while, and seriously considered my volunteerism for SAQA and CFA as my quota, but something was still missing. These are jobs I do at home, on my PC, with little human interaction. So I began to consider mentoring. And two weeks ago ran into an old friend, who has mentored for 6 years. After listening to her espouse about Bobby, I decided to go for it.

Since I filed my application, two people whose opinion I value have both campaigned to discourage me….how I am opening myself up to heartache, and hope I don’t take on all this kid’s problems and hope there is not a big financial commitment like paying for another round of college.

These viewpoints brought me to question my commitment. I am a very compassionate person, and have had experience plenty in detachment in my jobs, my family and working with hospice.

Tonight I went to an orientation and again felt the enthusiasm I had for this adventure before the naysayers cometh. And then I remembered something really major. This adventure is most likely outside the comfort zone of the naysayers. I have dealt with that kind of negativity before. They are projecting their own fears onto me. Once I got this, I calmed down. And remembered the real reason I want to do this.

With the world in the state it is in, I feel that mentoring a child to grow up to be a viable human being is my small part in trying to save the planet. It also gives me something else to think about other than that latest exhibit rejection letter and might also give me inspiration for my art. It’s a win-win situation and only costs me one hour a week!

OK, I am going to come clean and potentially start a movement! This is truly one of the real reasons I have trouble running into the studio to make art. Although I do admit to practicing GREAT self-discipline with this addiction.

I am addicted to an online video game! There I said it!!! And I know I am not alone. I know Markus is also addicted to one. And Martha is addicted to online solitaire. Boy, was that a surprise! She is the most spiritually grounded person I know, who fairly frequently attends Carl Jung seminars and she plays online solitaire! Who knew? OK, so I am not just coming clean; I am taking prisoners.

I found this little ditty on some other generous art quilter’s blog! She wrote that when the muse is MIA, she plays this little game and that she is addicted to it. WHOEVER you are…thanks for nothing! I have long forgotten the blog but not the little ditty.

When I first got it, I had to e-mail my tech saavy daughter to ask how to play it. After I got addicted, I deleted the link from my favorites file, but a few days later in major withdrawal, I retrieved it from the history file. Another time, I played it to level 53, when I topped out at over a million points. Unfortunately, I also got pre-migraine vision disturbances, which made me realize that if I were to lose my eyesight, my first choice would be on artmaking and not on some wacko online computer game!

Now, I use self-discipline. I possess great qualities of that when it comes to living within my means, no longer eating my beloved 79% dark chocolate nor cookies from Whole Foods bakery, butter, sour cream, cheese, yogurt, cantaloupe, etc. So I can also practice it on the computer. Now I limit my play to 500,000 points, which is usually between 12-15 rounds. After all my hands are nearly six decades old…

This is my attempt at Play it Forward!

Since I was in my twenties (long, long ago) I have always tried to wear on the outside who I am on the inside. My other theory about this was being a walking art gallery. I am six feet tall, people stare, let’s give them something to look at!

Somewhere between retiring from the workday grind and the evolution into a fulltime studio artist, who finds countless reasons to avoid said studio; the walking art gallery changed. Perhaps the biggest change was my new signature, as my daughter calls it: the wearing of the Converse, which brought on the painting of the Converse.

Yesterday I was out walking the high school track which I do several times a week and this time I wore my brown low rise with the purple laces, and some kid, sitting in the bleachers, on his cellphone, probably cutting class, stopped what he was saying to comment on my shoes! Wow, did that blow me away, because in everyday life, these kids don’t speak to elders, whom they may consider fossilized.

And then I noticed his hair! He had fuchsia streaks in his hair and I began to ponder having my hair streaked!

Word has it that I have the perfect hair, if one is to age naturally. Optimally, hair should have 3 colors and mine has the original dark brown, gray and white. So if I have the perfect hair, why would I consider streaks of neon, I ask you?

That thought process sucked up another two laps of the track as I pondered did I really want to do this, am I rebelling again, if so, what is wrong with that? Do I want to be an elegant older woman or do I want to be as outrageous as I always was, before I hit the Converse stage?

Obviously, I am a bit too obsessed to do it now, but I might just surprise myself one of these days and go for it. I know my stylist will oblige. Everytime I go in, she has different color hair.

In the meantime, I might want to focus on things a bit more important, in life…like should I get a tattoo?!

Today, I decided to go check out a rite of fall passage…the local Art Association’s 50th annual Art in the Park. Although I have lived here 34 years, I have been to only a handful of these annual rituals. I learned long ago that the association was made up almost entirely of painters and they had no time nor use for fiber artists.

This year I learned that they have allowed 3 fiber artists (silk painters and weavers) to join, and a couple of folks who make jewelry; in addition to photographers. There were however, no sculptors; such as the watermelon artist, above!

A guy from the gym had told me he would be there and his exact location, so that was my motivation to go see his work. At the gym, he tends to be a know-it-all and rather obnoxious, interrupting we gals who pedal to tell us we talk too much! So I was prepared for his work to be less than spectacular like he is, when actually it was quite detailed and wonderful, if one is into paintings of wildlife, based on National Geographic photographs.

Several other paintings dazzled me and I considered purchases, until I remembered that I am always seduced by color! This has been such a huge lesson for me in life. I used to buy all the color I saw in fabric, yarn, jewelry, clothing, etc. Now, I recognize that I can just drink in the color, absorb it through my pores and savor it in my soul, but I don’t have to own it. My husband, on the other hand, thinks anytime I ooh and aah something translates to buy it for me! He could, but he doesn’t, and I am forever saying…no, I don’t want to buy it, I am just saying how luscious it is!

I ran into Joann, a watercolorist who I met when I first moved here. She mentioned she is affliliated with a new gallery opening in town. She gave me a card and said it is a co-op gallery, which piqued my interest. At another booth, I read an amazing and interesting artists statement, and commended the artist for such a well-written paper. As one who has written several of these, and who hates it every time, I felt it important to acknowledge his accomplishment! He told me he hired someone to write it for him! Then I told him how much I loved his photography, as it is quite unique and spectactular. He announced he was opening a new gallery in town, which is a co-op! So I asked if it were the same as that earlier mentioned. Yes, indeed.

I told him I am a textile artist, that I paint/collage/stitch fabric for the wall, and queried if they are still accepting artists. No, he told me, the gallery is full, and besides they are hanging only fine art and they have a long waiting list. OK, so there is another person who doesn’t get textile art.

I checked out the gallery website when I got home. They have 21 artists and of those, about half have websites, and at least 2/3 of those are photographers. That told me a lot more than he did!

A little further on, I ran into Becky, an old friend, whose son went to school with my daughter. We have been crossing lives for over 25 years. I asked if she belongs to the Art Association and she does, but said she never shows with them. Her reason is because she has been told she does not create fine art! And that they tell her what her price point will be, and her work, most of it very small, is below that.

JoAnn had told me that all the work in this venue is below $300 or above $1000. Nothing in the middle sells.

All in all it was a good little outing, except for tripping over oak galls in the rutted lawn! I bought a fabulous copper pendant from a sweet woman who teaches bridge and sells her work way too cheaply. I gave Becky a ride home because of a trick knee, and got in a great little visit to boot. And mostly I learned that my long ago impression of the Art Association has not changed much.

I have no business blogging right now as the Earth heats up for yet another HOT day. I should be fusing with the hot iron, stretching my body, eating breakfast, showering or already in the car, off to JoAnn’s for another bolt of Wonder Under.

Then I remember I am retired, I can rebel, I do rebel, and eventually it will all get done, or not! So there.

I did want to post though, for all those on pins and needles (great pun!) over my Summer of Love piece and my battle with the headlands and the bridge girders.

I got the bridge last night close to midnight. Rather than try and fuse the individual pieces of the girders, I decided to cut them as one long piece, so I fussy cut while watching The Biggest Loser: Did They Keep the Weight Off? The sequel of which will be The Biggest Loser: Let’s Surprise the Ones Who Didn’t.

And it was totally an optical illusion thing. The side I labeled as front was actually the farthest away! So I pinned them on and it looked wonky. At my wits end and wondering what I can do to cover up the central focus of the piece, I tried one more thing and voila! that did it. I tucked the farthest ‘rail’ behind the undersurface of the bridge, with just a short side showing and voila! it was soup.

The bridge girders made the headlands look easy. I joke about having an inner critic vs. the spousal critic. Although he has been asked often to be mute in the studio, hubby dearest always says something and it is never complimentary. This morning as he was leaving and I was still in bed, I asked him to pop in and check out the bridge and he actually came in and said, you got it right..you followed the line! which for me is major, because linear perspective and I are not friends.

He keeps telling me I need to take a class. I have taken a class! I have actually taken three classes. It is just something I can see, but my brain cannot compute. I have so many other wonderful qualities, however, I just try to overlook it! That is, until I have to use it to design work.

And my fighting with this piece, and the acute procrastination from working on it, has also been a great metaphor for the familial challenges in my life currently. If only we could cut and paste our family members!

I don’t think design is supposed to hurt this much! I am getting a brainache trying to design the latest piece. I have done everything humanly possible, except pickup the fallen apples, to avoid working on it! And now, I have decided to wait until my brilliant daughter brings back my dog this afternoon, so she can help me. After all, she has the high priced art education!

In celebration of the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love, of which I did not participate because I was too scared I would get in trouble…a whole ‘nother post, that story is… But I was living in the Bay Area and remember all the news stories and the song, if you’re coming to San Francisco….wear flowers in your hair.

I tweaked this photo in PhotoShop to neon colors and proceeded to design an art quilt around this image. And this is where I am stuck. Perspective and logic tells me the receding headlands (otherwise known as hills) should be darker than the closer ones. Because I took this shot sailing under the GG Bridge, on a cruise ship bound for Mexico, the bridge casts a shadow on the closer headlands and not the distant ones.

This is the first dilemma. My second is what wild batiks and/or hand-dyes to use for the headlands. The sky and water are set, but with copious batiks this piece could be hard on the eyes! So this has thrown me into a hissy fit, condemning myself because I do not have the art school education, and how I should just avoid this kind of work entirely.

I could, on the other hand make the foothills entirely abstract and shine it on that way. If only I were eating chocolate, this would be a good time to indulge. What does one do for comfort when no comfort food is allowed? Hmmm…maybe I could ponder that awhile, which will keep me from dealing with this a while longer!