Carol Larson - textile artist

Today was the first day of the past five that I was not running down the freeway. I took full advantage of it by tying up a bunch of loose ends. The most exciting part is I finally got in the mail something that has been looming over my head since June. This is the final floor plan, inventory and signage for the Tall Girl Series exhibit next February in Oregon. How grand it feels to have that done.

Other loose ends this month and next…relocation of my inventory, culling/sorting in the studio before year’s end and updating my marketing materials. A couple of years ago I moved all of my finished work into the guest room closet, to store. They are rolled and covered but with built-in drawers filling half of the closet, it did not take long to fill up the other half. Now, my infinite wisdom is directing me to move the older work, the ones I will never exhibit anywhere, to another closet in another room! I probably should just get rid of them, BUT they are good to have around, like old friends, and for those times when I am asked to do a retrospective….another project to work on next year, as I have one coming up in April.

Finally, on being a land baron. Since we settled here 35 years ago, we have grown all varieties of fruits and vegetables. I love fresh produce from the garden. What I hate though is the burden of the abundance. We give so much away and yet we still have so much. I would love a tree that nets a dozen pears, or a dozen apples, or a gallon of cherries!

For some unknown reason, most folks do not love persimmons like we do. We dearly love them, but do not need 300 to prove it. So what you see here is how our dining table looks right now. If you love Hachiya persimmons and are within the sound of my voice, email me off list and I will send you some! They should be ripe by the time you receive them.

People always say to make pies, cookies, cakes, butters, whatever with the fruit. This just cracks me up! Yes, let’s grow something healthy, add a pound of sugar and butter to it, and then eat it. You do it, and tell me all about it!

Since I managed to accomplish all but one of my goals for 2009, I decided to go to work on 2010. Talk about living in the moment..not!

While I have marketed my art far and wide, somehow it slipped past me that I did not have a unified image aka branding. Today I have rectified that with this new image which appears in this post and on the banner above. I like it alot, and it will be easy to update as my work and life progresses. And for once my husband and I actually agreed on a design!

As for the one goal I did not meet this year? Well, it is a lifetime goal and that is to pay more attention to spirit and less to external drama. Always a work in progress.

Eleven years ago today my employer & friend of nearly two decades died of brain cancer. Because I chose to be his primary caregiver I was both devastated and relieved. The true gift from his passing was my freedom. I never would have chosen freedom for myself. I was terminally addicted to the work, salary and benefits, but when my hand was forced, I not only considered my freedom, I took it! And I have never looked back.

I don’t know why today I remembered as the past few years I have not. November 18th came and went never giving it a thought. But today for some reason, I remembered. Where there is no longer sorrow there is extreme gratitude for two things.

I am grateful I accompanied him on his journey; so I could learn to live one day at a time, pay attention to the small things, and let go of the fear, which continue to be works in progress.

The other gratitude was being catapulted out of my office chair into the Universe where I made a clear-headed decision to ‘retire’ at 50. That decision to retire , was one year before I decided to take a class to make just one quilt to get it out of my system. The rest as they say….is history!

So today in remembering David I am so thankful that his passing gave me the courage to change my life. When I had no idea what I would do with ‘all this time’ that freedom opened me up to possibility. And look how I have used it!

While this may seem far too syrupy for some, I challenge you to change something in your life which is not serving you well. Too many of us stay in dead-end jobs (or relationships) too long, because we have to pay the mortgage, feed the family, put the kid through school, whatever. Whatever the reason for staying in a job that does not feed your soul is your business. If you are waiting for someone to give you permission to shuffle it up, I just have…

Of the many artists I know there is not a one who has not at one time or another uttered if only my work would sell. While many of us make art with our primary motivation being we have to, rather than selling it; there are indeed artists who do it solely to generate income.

I strive to not utter those words, as I believe it puts out an energy of desperation, similar to the old standby will I ever find a mate?! Instead I react to each sale of my work with surprise and delight! Because in reality it is a delight when a patron wants to purchase a tangible piece of my passion.

Today I went to the reception for the Members Show of the Petaluma Arts Council. Immediately I interacted with an artist whining about his work selling AND about the audacity of other artists to ask THAT for THIS! Talk about creating bad juju. Quickly I got away from him as I don’t want any of that bad juju rubbing off on me, thanks anyway!

In addition to being an artist, I am a patron! I’ve had the opportunity to collect tangible pieces of other artists’ passion over the years. I have collected wonderful paintings and other objects d’art which spoke to me. Some we bought which spoke to my husband, but not me, and those mostly hang in the basement! The past few years I have mostly bought small pieces as the walls in our house are pretty much complete. Unless… there is just one fabulous something that speaks to me. And such was the case today.

The theme was Small Works for Hard Times. All the work had to be under 20″ in all directions, which made for some amazing art at very reasonable prices. I saw Martha Johnson’s exquisite piece when I was there yesterday setting up a razzle-dazzle display for a raffle. So my husband telling me today to think about it overnight was a moot point, as I already had!Who better to support artists than other artists, really?

I knew if I were to think about it any longer during the crowded reception, it would be gone. How right I was as I stood at the counter with money in hand when another walked up to purchase the same piece. Plus my final rationalization (do men do this? no!) was my birthday is in 3 weeks!

The piece is called What’s Mine is Yours and is a long narrow horizontal rectangle of two crows fighting over a piece of string. It spoke to me in so many ways, especially the metaphor for our 39 years of marriage.

After that we zipped over to Sonoma to the Museum of Art to see their Biennial exhibit. I knew several people whose work was in this show and became a new fan of Emma Luna, who makes these incredible ceramic sculptures that look like piled laundry. There was one which was a stack of hand towels. It was amazing!

Then we zipped back through the vineyards (photo taken with phone) to the west part of the county to a reported fabulous open house with hand-knits, scarves and the like. My husband was so incredibly patient with all this culture! He was incredibly lucky too that when we arrived at the farm, they were packing up. Otherwise, the birthday that has not even started yet could have gone on and on!

Math is my nemesis. It always has been and it continues to be. As much as I struggled, screamed, and was spanked I managed to learn my multiplication tables in the 4th grade. And I must admit I still can recall them and they have been useful in life. Most other math I have little use for, however.

Long before I figured out I was a visual learner & an artist in a family full of Stanford and Harvard MBA’s, I fought math. I flunked high school algebra so I never got to geometry or calculus or trig; but near as I can tell I have never had use for them anyway. Whenever I couldn’t figure out an algebraic formula in real life, I called my Dad who was a CPA. Before dementia set in, he went straight to the top of his field, meaning he sat on the board that writes the rules for the tax industry (so that is who we can blame!) Of course as a math-hating kid, I did not have the perspective of today that I was an alien planted in this family of mathaholics.

Math is the main reason I gave up weaving after 25 years. I hated doing the calculations of how much warp to put on the loom, how much weft to weave within and how much yardage I would end up with, allowing for shrinkage to make said garment. Needless to say the artist in me came out when I designed multiple garments with pieced parts, because I didn’t have enough yardage to create the entire garment. And people thought I was just being creative!

So now I am being haunted by math again as I configure the Tall Girl Series to fit into the Oregon gallery for its debut appearance early next year. And it is making me cranky. It is making me want to do almost anything, even clean the dog run, instead of figuring this out. I posed the question on the SAQA yahoo list and got answers both on and off the list. Some were so convoluted they only could have been conceived by someone with too much education! Have you ever noticed that? How some highly educated people can’t speak plain and simple English?! I digress, I am cranky, what can I say?

I can say if I ever get this figured out, I will set it in stone, so I never have to do it again. Oh, there’s that never say never again. Drat.

Ever since I finished the Tall Girl Series, and came to terms with my body, I started battling with my hair. I have come to believe that it is the one thing I can change about my body. I can’t change the debilitation, I can’t change the arthritis, I can’t change the food sensitivities that prohibit me from eating everything divine. I can’t change the lines creeping in on my face. Sure I can botox but in 6 months they will be back, and who wants to inject botulism into their face anyway?! I can change my hair and so every so often for the past couple of years I have been doing that. Thank goodness I have a patient and understanding hairdresser.

Today, I said let’s go drastic! Now in reality what could be more drastic than an asymmetrical haircut? Armed with a photo of a gorgeous blonde 20-something with a long-layered pixie cut, I murmured what about a pixie cut?! When was the last time you saw a 200 lb pixie?! Come on! Of course her photo was probably taken 3 weeks into the haircut. Right this minute the hair on my legs is longer than the hair on my head!

Hair for women and some men (not mine however) is a double-edged sword. It is always too long, too short, too curly, too straight, too thick, too thin. Rarely is it a perfect hair day. I have always had great hair. When I was younger and it was dark brown, it was abundant, thick, fill of body & shiny. Fast forward 40 years, add a huge helping of post-menopause, a bucket of color changes (gray, white, brown and something in between), a complete loss of body, a strong desire not to look like every other middle aged woman with short gray hair, a stronger desire to look like an artist (edgy!) and a longing for the days when I could wear those great chin length styles without looking like some old hippie chick and what have you?! The pixie.

Mom always said tall girls should wear their hair long and carry a big purse, all this to balance us out. But since when have I ever done anything Mom said? First of all if anyone carries a big purse, they just fill it with crap and pretty soon the back and shoulders start to fail under the weight. Bad idea, tallgirl. And I wore my hair long until I hit my mid-50’s. When I cut it, friends actually said…it’s about time, you were starting to look haggard, girlfriend. Gee, thanks so much…where were you when I found the 1″ white hair sticking out of my cheek? So bring on the pixie cut and show off those big baby blues. You know they are there somewhere underneath the eye folds.

When I was about 9, and my sisters 8 and 4, my mother for some insane reason asked my father to cut our hair. He came quite close to that which I sport today (for a lot less money!) My mother went ballistic as he had shorn his three daughters to look like Navy seamen. There is a family photo, somewhere, of the three of us on a ship visiting the port of San Francisco. We were wearing matching sailor dresses and sailor haircuts. I was ahead of my time!

So for now I need to get used to being called SIR again, as it always happens when my hair is too short. I want to flash my girls, now call me SIR bozo, I dare ya! Hair grows, and mine especially fast so in a few weeks I will be brushing it out of my face again. In the meantime, dust off the huge earrings and be grateful that I have hair, at all. My Dad and my uncle both are wearing hats indoors these chilly fall days to keep their bare craniums warm.