converging skies

“creativity is just

connecting things.”

-steve jobs

bodhi found himself drowning in a sea of frothy shampoo and moisturising conditioner today! the sun was blazing across the sky. the beast was malodorous, so it seemed like a utopian union. he smells delightfully fragrant now!

i’ve been bloodless and world-weary of late. fraught with uncertainty as my unemployment is surreptitiously terminated by sanctimonious politicians who believe we are all simply lazy and need to take one of the thousands of poverty level jobs available in food service and hospitality, a field nowhere near my own which was destroyed not only by the pandemic, but by governmental idiocies in the first place…and pays less than half what i was making…grumble, grumble, piss and moan. ha! a fat lot of good all that grouching just did, eh? tomorrow is another day.

to be more productive, i begin again. forging skies. new fragments. anticipating stories. even snipping and dipping a stacklet of shibori indigo moons! too colossal for these fragments, but ripe for impending journeys in stitch and whisper.

now to settle in and needle chant awhile as the rotund moon shimmers outside my window and gentle night breezes cool the fragrant beast at my feet and the bear sleeps in the next room.

namasté 

small journies

my favorite thing to do

is go where i've never been

even if only in my imagination

in this strange new world where travel is nearly impossible, or at best inadvisable, we have to find new ways to explore. for me, it has manifested in a series of diminutive stitcheries. tiny worlds filled with stars and moons and bears and hares and trees. story fragments of cobble cloth.

it's amazing, the places and things i've seen while sitting in my studio with a steaming cup of coffee! i wonder where i'll go next? who i might meet?

namaste'

at home with fragments

“every experience, 

no matter how bad it seems, 

holds within a blessing 

of some kind. 

the goal is to find it.“

-buddha

i got laid off today. the corona virus and the oil price war between russia and saudi arabia have all but shut down the oil industry in the states. of a sudden, i have a lot of time on my hands, so this is happening. a bit of fragment exploration in three dimensions. playing with unusual forms to create old favourites. where will this all lead? i do not know, but it should be fun figuring it out!

namasté

cranking away

time. fragments. rust. sewing machines. emotions.

all cranking away. i get lost sometimes. these past few years perhaps more than before. could be my age? or maybe simply that i haven't been present of late.

i've pulled out one of my hand crank machines to help me slow down a bit. be here more.

my wrists keep me from doing too much hand work at a time. carpal tunnel. there. i've said it aloud. not thinking about it will not make it unhappen.

time to listen more closely to the whispers. hear the stories my collection of fragments have to tell. help them unfold and manifest...

namaste'

when orphans are no more

"i feel akin to the platypus.

an orphan in a family.

a swimmer, a recluse.

part bird, part fish,

part lizard."

-trevor dunn

everyone knows how much i enjoy working with orphan blocks. they somehow seem at home in the selvedges of life and creativity where i reside. these all roads blocks (pattern by angela waters) are fast becoming a family of favorites!

my mother-in-law began making these half-sized from the original blocks in red and white a while back and then orphaned them as she grew bored with the monotony of them. knowing how much i love orphans, she gave them me, along with a stash of red and white minnick and simpson charms and jelly rolls.

after playing with them a while, soaking up their beauty and possibilities, i've begun to really have some fun with them. toss in some greys, blues, plums, and creams and all of a sudden they are coming to life and coming together in their new family! with each unit measuring in at only 4-1/2 inches finished, i've got several hundred to go before i can call it a quilt, but 4 dozen done seems like a great start!
.
namasté

getting lost

"it's okay to get lost

every once in a while,

sometimes getting lost

is how we find ourselves..."
-robert  tew

ever wake up in the middle of the night and feel like you don't know who you are anymore? like you took one too many turns without being present and now nothing looks... right?

last night i woke into one of these moments and wandered into the sewing studio and just sat there. communed with a few of my stitched and dyed fragments. expressions, really, of self. tiny bits of who i am. or was. or am yet to become. who knows which?

i need to be present more. to myself. to the expression of my own fragments. i've wandered... strayed a bit too far. become lost. 

it's time to find me again..

namasté

glowing against the grey

"only connect!

that was the whole of her sermon.

only connect the prose and the passion,

and both will be exalted...

live in fragments no longer."

-e.m. forster, howard's end

it is strange, how ideas fold in on themselves and re-present themselves. a stray fragment whispered longings for something to make her shine. i gifted her with a star. seeing her joy, i sought to give this gift again. before i knew it, there was a tiny galaxy of stars, just there, glowing against the grey.

soon other celestial bodies whispered into existence.  moons. suns. planets.  these could be any or all, for what is in a name?  tiny echoes of the sunbursts and moonglows that have been manifesting in my studio. celestial fragments.

they look familiar. yet different. new.  ah! but of course! inspiration bathes us in its own celestial glow. jude hill's nine series of indigo moons and stars. pale resist-dyed "threadcrumbs" luminous in their deep indigo sky. jude has ever been a beacon in the star-filled sky of my creativity! so to keep that element, these celestial fragments are grouped in nines as well. to pay homage to the one who seeks "a cross-pollination" which "seeds a larger and exotic garden of delights."

so very different, yet related. these smoldering rust-printed celestial fragments would play quite nicely with jude's mysterious indigo jewels in that garden...

namaste'

twang gently

"where hast thou wondered,

gentle gale, 

to find the perfumes

thou dost bring?"

-william c. bryant

it is much to easy to get lost in the convenience of social media. the lack of a need for any real thought.  the simplicity of posting images and short bursts of words.

i am thankful for those of you who read and comment here on my blog.  reminding me from whence i started.  welcoming me home.

these rust-dyed fragments are resting here for some secret sewing.  soon to be joined by other, more colorful, fragments.  but for now, i am enjoying their quiet countenance.  it suits my thoughts at the moment.  the giant grinning buffoon of a coffee mug seeking to draw me out of my solitary thoughts with its silliness keeps a corner of a smile on my lips and helps me to stay on track. but the early morning light sneaking in through the drapes seems almost hesitant, and so my thoughts ramble on in their shadowed halls.

not depressive...just...muted. reflective. the antithesis to the burst of colorful wonky house sewing that blasted through my instagram feed recently.  instead, they wrap about my shoulders like a shawl against the early morning chill and listen quietly as my fingers linger on the strings of one of my dulcimers.

it's a good sunday. a quiet, lonely sunday.  just me and bodhi. and these quiet thoughts and gently twanging strings. and attentive fragments and that silly grinning mug...

namaste'

hex happens

"life is too short

not to experiment."

-jamelia

being a creature of habit, i find myself slipping into patterns and stale routines at times. of late, i've indulged my inner brat with sulking through the holidays. moaning about the things i don't have in my life. blah, blah, blah, roll eyes, etc.

in an effort to form new habits, i let go of my self-decided dislike for hexies. to be honest, the hexie quilts i'm used to seeing are the vintage, lavendar and moth ball scented old lady flower garden types. now, i love vintage quilts, but these just do nothing for me.  this afternoon i saw a critter of altogether different proportions. a scrap hexie quilt. now *this* i can do! i was awestruck. it was beautiful!

of course, being a hoarder of fragments, i am in no short supply of material, so i decided it was time to stretch my legs and do something different. i decided it was hexie time.  starting with scraps from community (still in the works), i began making my first hexies.  little two inch hexies (note: apparently hexies are measured by the length of their sides...they are only 1" hexies). after the first few, i was already skipping down the primrose path to hexieville!

i guess this dog ain't too old yet...

namaste'

recovering a sense of play

"the creation of something new

is not accomplished by the intellect

but by the play instinct."

-carl jung

life can sometimes bog us down. adulting can be a very serious matter which can take over and rub the shiny off of just about everything.  in order to remain sane, we must remember to cultivate a sense of play.

play energizes us. enlivens us. it has the capability of renewing our sense of optimism and makes us open to new possibilities. in our art. in our lives. in general.

there are many ways in which one can play.  one of my favorites is to create and play with little people. needle chanting new spirit-filled people into existence and fanning the imagination with their stories.

here are three such people in their beginning stages. a perky boobed lady emerging from an old fragment of experimental batik. a woodsy fellow in winter holiday colors making his way from a vintage clothing fragment. finally, a peachy, flesh-toned dude taking shape from a "failed" dye experiment. beyond these few shreds, their stories are still transpiring. being whispered quietly in the background.

me? i'm carefully listening.
with scraps of cloth and fibre.
allowing.
being.

namaste'

changing perspective

"when i let go

of what i am,

i become

what i might be."

-lao tzu

these lovely rust dyed cotton fragments
were a gift from a delightful follower
on instagram (@pwendy). this buddha is
joyfully sporting new threads until inspiration
moves them in another direction!

a comment i made to erik shipley of ship's manor on instagram the other day was very enlightening for me once it took root in my consciousness.  a simple statement made about my style of knitting. something i have said a thousand times about being a process knitter rather than being results driven. one of those *aha!* moments that suddenly through open the drapes that have shrouded my perception about my own creative style. not only am i a process knitter, but i am a process artist!

this was a very liberating realization. freeing me of years of self-judgment and ofttimes debilitating criticism about harboring a plethora of unfinished work. reminding me of the joy i experience in simply creating for the sake of creating, not to race to complete something for the sake of being done with it. the many creations that rest in various stages of growth are just that: resting in a stage of growth. of evolution. all a part of my enjoying their process of creation. no longer accusing. no longer judging. but celebrating whatever process they are in. whatever step they are at along the path each moment. rather like a reminder of the way i try to live my life. in the moment. not grasping and judging but enjoying. celebrating.

there is something to be learned from these emerging fragments of the creative process. something delightful and invigorating!

namasté

use. reuse. and fanboy surprise.

"nothing lasts forever.

but the thing is,

you can reuse some."

-rick riordan, leo's mother, the lost hero

nestled in the bottom of community's work basket are tons of almost forgotten scraps. slumbering peacefully away. until now.  i can't let them find their way to the waste basket...or lay idle for too long.  so i have embarked upon a new quilt journey.  while being comprised of cast off scraps from community, i think it will need its own name. it's own story. i'm not sure what that will be as yet. perhaps they will begin to whisper more clearly as more blocks are created.

these diminutive blocks are a mere 4" and are based upon a block from Quilted Moose.  one of several in Louise's garden sew-along. i fell in love with this one block, however, and have decided to create an entire quilt out of it...with 3/4" sashing and corner blocks between each.  it will pull solely from scraps from community.  

instead of sequestering myself in the sewing studio at my treadle, as is my usual behavior, i wanted to watch some television programs while i stitched, so i pulled out my "new" 1965 Bernina 730 Record Zig Zag machine. i found this machine (born the same year i was, so it's not that terrible old. ha!) languishing away on a sale table in a local charity shop with a meager $22.50 price tag. 

this lovely old machine came with all of its original papers (including bill of sale), all of its original accessories, several extra accessories, sewing deck, an immaculate case (original) and two original keys!

after brushing the dust away and giving the machine a good oiling, i set it up to begin to sew...and then i realized: there's no foot control pedal! ack!  so before putting it away and getting out my other "new" machine (the brother i talked about in an earlier post), i went looking online for a replacement foot control. then it hit me: this machine has no foot control.  it is a dedicated knee control machine!  i'd heard about these knee control bernina's before, but being a die-hard pfaff fanboy (at least, when it comes to new new machines) i never gave it much thought.  always figured they were talking about a knee lift bar.  ha! you learn something new everyday! after a little playtime, i'm rather fascinated by this knee control.  it's especially nice when sitting on the davenport and sewing on my antique fold away table. no foot pedal to migrate away and be chased after! so i guess i can't pooh-pooh bernina's anymore...now that i own one and actually really like it!  though, don't expect to see me replacing my computerized pfaff anytime soon, cuz i'm still a pfaff fanboy!

namaste'

"we do not live an equal life,

but one of contrasts and patchwork;

now a little joy, then a sorrow,

now a sin, then a generous

or brave action."

-ralph waldo emerson

contrasts and patchwork. a fitting description for my life of late. and so i continue to stitch to distract my mind. digging deep into the stash of vintage fragments. the smaller ones especially. all i needed is an inch of each.  a thousand tiny stitches while the treadle rocks rhythmically beneath my foot. needle chanting in its own right. not as simple as when working completely by hand, but meditative just the same. 

now a dive into my stash of neutrals and whites to fine a border and a back. some more needle chanting, a little tying, and then a leisurely dunk in tea dye pot and a romp in the dryer.

hindsight being what it is, i'm wondering if i should have embroidered vines and flowers on the border. perhaps even a scattering of blossoms across the tiny 1/2 inch squares...  that could be an entertainment for another day.  i hear we are expecting 4 1/2 inches of snow on tuesday...

namaste'

being open

"we all get so caught up

in the moment

of what we're doing every day,

it's hard to hit that reset button

and get pulled away 

from all that and see

life from a different perspective."

-tony stewart

this year has been a year of thinking. thinking about doing. thinking about what to do. thinking about how to do. what to do it with. not a lot of doing. just a lot of being stuck. being. stuck. you have to hold on to those two words separately. together they are too daunting. too damning. strung together, they accuse. they mock. they label.

being stuck: you are stuck. 

but separate, they hold the key to liberation from that accusation.

being. stuck.  

separate, they allow growth and hope.  being: the state of life and experience. stuck: a lack of movement. dormancy. you don't condemn a seed for not yet blossoming into a glorious plant. you nurture it. encourage it to grow. so why do we disparage ourselves when we become dormant? stuck?

it is time for me to focus on the first word. being.  when we break the statement, being stuck, down this way, we can allow ourselves to grow. there is an open-endedness to being. a promise of something more. something different. now it is being full.

being full.
      of promise.
             of hope.
                  of potential.

namaste'

ephalumps a'stompin' 'round

"i'm truly surprised

that we seem to get by

without polka dotted elephants,

serving us pie!"

-marc johns

this past month has been a struggle at best. between another lay-off, job search, training, bodhi having health issues, piper growing older by the minute, and the ephalump of depression stomping about in my brain, it's no wonder i've managed so little stitching!  today, however, was an ephalump of another color: no, i still haven't managed to find a polka dotted ephalump to serve me pie, but i did manage a little needle chanting beneath a shady tree this afternoon.  a little romp through a cloth fragment stash and a little playing about with sharp objects.  not sure where i'm going with him from this point.  perhaps i'll work him into a little pocket. a zippered vessel for bits and bobs. a keeping pouch.  i recently salvaged some lovely old metal zippers that i should be able to harvest one from. there seems to be a little story there, somewhere. whispering quietly in the background...

namaste'

a fail is not a failure

"you don't have to

change your goal.

change your path,

be willing to, and

do not see that

as a failure.

that's just life."

-diane hendricks

there seems to be some sort of rusty or corroded metal that does not transfer rust to other things.  whatever the particulates were in my rust mush is of this metal.  it left absolutely no marks on the fragment.  rather than counting this as a failure, i figure i've learned something.  i'm not quite certain of some of the details of that learning. ha! but learning was had.

next step was to pull out some rusty bits from my other stash and star rusting a ground line. also, to grab those new swirly bits from the newly plasma whacked steel plate and rust some stylized clouds with them.  in this process, i found several of my rusty bits that are of the same particulate structure that populated the rust mush and ended up with blank spots.  aaargh!  ok.  learning was had again.

rusty old hand-forged square nails came next to create some tall grasses.  oh, and a tiny rusty moose acquired at a craft show or through etsy or somewhere no longer remembered.  i figured i'd really montana this fragment up a bit!

tadah!  a foundation of rust depiction is achieved!  now to liven this cloth up with some thread chanting and stitch sketching.  maybe some beads. a little piecing. who knows what all else will put in an appearance by the time this fragment is fully realized?!?

but for now...i am at peace with the direction it is taking and quietly enjoying the serene tableau...

namaste'

like alchemy...

"my work

is like a dialogue

between me and 

unseen powers,

like alchemy.'

-cai gua-qiang

delving into unknown territory today...  first "what if" was to rust dye in layers.  wrapped my salvage fragment around the band from an old whiskey cask to dye a large, summer moon.  once dyed, i dunked the fragment back into the vinegar water and then stretched it out on a plastic sheet and laid the metal tree cut out on it, smoothing the wet cloth gently to remove wrinkles and distortions, then carefully folded the fragment back onto itself to get the second tree image rusted in....all the while, being meticulous in keeping any part of the cloth off of the moon so as not to accidentally transfer the first image back into an unwanted area of the cloth.

i was very happy with my initial results...except that all this carefulness left the image a bit stark for my taste.  what to do? what to do?  okay....here's a thought...grab some of the rust mush from the bottom of the dunk tank and spread it around to create clouds and ground after another dip in the vinegar water!    i'm liking this so much better already.  only thing is...i have no idea how this will turn out.  i've never used rust mush to dye with before.  it's just the rusty flakings from the floorboard of my international that i dumped into the dunk tank to act as a rust starter.  it's black.  i don't know why.  but it is.  i don't know if it'll turn orange and rust like any other rusty metal. or if it will dye the fragment black or grey.  or if it will just sit there stubbornly. sticking its tongue out at me and do nothing to color the cloth.  i shall just have to wait and see what happens tomorrow...  isn't it exciting?!?

namaste'

stumbling through the dance

"the only way

to make sense

out of change

is to plunge into it,

move with it,

and join the dance."

-alan watts

this year has been an interesting journey down new and unfamiliar paths. changes in work. friendships. companionship.  sometimes i forget to stop trying to make sense of it all and simply allow it all to unfold. usually,  this finds me tipped head first into the quagmire of confusion.  but sooner or later i manage to pull my head out my nether orifice and I stumble forward again.

so i pick up a needle. stub some thread through its eye and begin again. these stars have been quietly whispering for snowflakes to join their gentle dance in the quiet sky above the man standing in the snow.  

here's to the warmth that blankets your spirit when you engage in doing something you love again after a long hiatus...

namaste'

time has a way about it...

"thirty was so strange for me.

i've really had to come to terms

with the fact that i am now 

a walking and talking adult."

-c.s. lewis

i remember feeling just so. as c.s. lewis did at thirty. i wonder how he felt at forty? at fifty? having just turned forty-eight a few days ago, time has intruded upon my thoughts once again. though this time, in a different manner. i've been thinking lately how i have forgotten how to manage my time. for years i have worked between 70 and 80+ hours a week. this leaves little more than stolen moments to play with between work and sleep. now, for the past month, i've reduced my hours to simply 40 a week. i have so much spare time. but i have forgotten how to utilize it. i have found myself sitting on the couch more often than not. wasting my time doing little to nothing. oddly overwhelmed by the nothingness, really. so, yesterday, i decided i could no longer afford to do this anymore. i began to reclaim control...

i picked up needle and thread and began chanting this abandoned piece once more. adding soft blues and muted oranges by hand to the machine stitched bird. chanting butterfly trails to remind them where they have been. begun digging through small, wooden boxes and satcheled caches of ephemera in search of more to push the boundaries of this little cloth.

oh, i know i am unlikely to stick with this one cloth until it is finished. there are too many others now calling for my attention, and you know how i like to jump around as my creativity directs me. but, for now, this little bird has captured my attention once again.

at least, that is, during the cool morning hours until the sun begins to beat like a south african drum. luring me out into the shady recesses where i have stashed my old farm truck and my fingers begin to itch for the sensation of oil and grit...

namaste'

my lovely bones

"these were the lovely bones

that had grown around my absence..."

- alice sebold

so much of my time has been wrapped up in music of late. exploring this new (to me) world of cigar box guitars and their link to depression era delta blues. so much so that it felt almost foreign to my fingers to pick up a needle and thread and begin chanting upon cloth once again. almost. but memories have a way of ebbing back into place once we are receptive to them again...

oh so long ago (there's a blog entry somewhere about it, but i haven't taken the time to hunt it down) i mentioned having this enormous collection of vintage linens. pillow cases. dresser scarves. chair leaves. candle mats. kitchen linens. i had been contemplating using them somehow in a new interpretation of a crazy quilt. perhaps there is a predominantly white crazy quilt or two out there somewhere. i'm quite certain that a quick google search would probably spit back an endless flow of images (google seems to be good at that). but i don't want to contaminate my idea with someone else's so i will resist the urge to investigate further. instead, i simply acknowledge the old axiom that there are no new ideas is most likely true and forge on ahead nonetheless.

this is the beginning of my first block for what will become a large shelter cloth. it will span generations of expression in that it will be comprised of the daily toil of countless stitchers from unknown generations, cobbled together by my own vision. i'm calling it (for the moment at least) my lovely bones and will be infusing it with tangent images and design. as many of you know, bones have long been one of my own personal symbols of great meaning and endless whispering... i will be dispensing with "traditional" crazy quilting techniques (with the exception of embellished seams) and utilizing contemporary boro, or slow cloth, techniques. building layers of cloth fragments one upon another until the shelter cloth is of the size and weight desired. allowing the layers of time to provide its own density and warmth.

for now, however, i must get my head back under the steam cloth for i can not breathe (how dare this cold strike me down in the hour of my inspiration!).

namaste'