Preparing to resurface (I hope)

I'm scandalized when I look at the date of my last post in mid-September. Where has the better part of a month gone? I'd love to say that I've been on some exotic vacation, but no such luck. I've just been buried in the details of work and daily life and having a crazy-busy time at work.

In the midst of that we bought a new computer--a Macintosh, thank you God. This has been an anxiously anticipated switch from our previous Windows machines. As much as I love the thing, getting all photos, music, and Quicken stuff transferred over has been a little less straightforward than I hoped. At this point the end is clearly in sight. As if in protest, the Windows computer off of which I've been moving data seems to have just "shit the bed" as they say in the industry. It looks like a virus. I'm going to scavenge as much as I can then rebuilt the thing.

As I tell this story I realize that this might be an opportune moment to come clean about something. One of my alter-egos is that of digital toy geek. As I write this, I'm sitting in our home office / sewing room. So, it would stand to reason that the room contains a computer and a sewing machine. And that's true, but it's also the tip of a somewhat larger iceberg that includes:

• The embroidery module for the sewing machine
• A serger
• My old embroidery machine that I'm planning to sell
• My second sewing machine, with which I can't bear to part
• Our oldest computer, which is headed for the recycle bid
• The second oldest computer, which is also on the way out
• And finally, the computer that I'm about to rebuilt, which will be the new embroidery computer.

I swear, a month from now the place is going to be so much better. It's got to be, because the clutter is starting to drive me crazy.

I took a couple of hours today to work on a three pieces of fabric. I'm collecting for a quilt and have almost reached critical mass. Here's the most recent stuff.

Well, it's different.

I continue to work on the "unsatisfying" piece with the red square. Since I last wrote I've done three things to it:

• I applied soy wax in a concentric square pattern over a lot of the surface using a tool that I made from copper wire. Then, I screened the whole thing with varying intensities of dark green. This had real potential until it all washed out. The screened dye had no activator in it, so I heavily misted the entire piece with a soda ash solution, wrapped it up, and kept is warmish for about 10 hours. I've done this successfully in the past, so I expected good results. I'm guessing my problem was some combination not enough soda ash, not enough time, and not enough heat. It would probably have been OK if I'd steamed.
• On my second time around I applied more wax with the same tool (all of the first application was gone). This time I opted for a low water immersion dye bath use a recipe of "olive", which for some reason produced a deep blue-green. Unplanned, but OK. After a few hours I was rinsing it out the backyard and got a little frustrated that it looked too dark, so I decided to attack it with Soft Scrub with Bleach. I spread the wet fabric on the driveway and painted on some square and a few drips. Sometimes a little frustration can be productive!
• After a good washing and pressing I began doing some work with fabric paint last night to try to bring the focus back to the red square.

Here it is before the fabric paint.

Next steps? I'm considering some applique or reverse applique of a couple of squares of other fabric to reinforce the square shape, which seems to be what this piece is all about.

Dye mixing experiment

In my Sept 10 posting I said that I was having some problems mixing print paste using ProChem MX 108 (Sun Yellow) but no other color. I called ProChem tech support and explained that every time I mix this particular dye with a thickener (ProChem Print Paste or Dharma Sodium Alginate) the thickener curdles like tapioca and is virtually unusable. I got the impression from their rather candid response that they were really stumped. The bottom line from ProChem was:

• The age of the dye powder (18 months) shouldn't cause this sort of behavior.
• They've never heard of anyone else with this problem.
• Mixing the dye powder with chemical water versus tap water shouldn't cause or prevent this problem.
• The thickener shouldn't be an issue either.

We discussed some possible experiments and agreed to stay in touch if either I or they came up with any conclusions. So, tonight I went to the basement to "play mad scientist," as Dan put it. Here's what I did.

I wanted to try several different thickened dye mixing procedures with controls for temperature of the thickener (which I store in the refrigerator), and the solution used to dissolve the dye. First I mixed a batch of Urea Water using the receipt on the ProChem website. Then I mixed two dye solutions:

• 3/4 tsp dye powder + 2 Tbls TAP WATER
• 3/4 tsp dye powder + 2 Tbls UREA WATER

I then measured out approximately equal amounts of sodium alginate thickener (about 10 days old):

• 2 bowls with cold alginate right out of the refrigerator
• 2 bowls with alginate that I had warmed to slightly above room temperature

I mixed the 4 possible combinations and discovered the following.

Dye really does dissolve better in urea water.
In the pictures below equal amounts of dye were dissolved in equal amounts of solution. On the left, the urea water produce a clear, well-dissolved mix. On the right, the tap water solution never fully dissolved and had bits of undissolved dye at the bottom of the cup.

Sodium alginate thickener is much easier to mix at room temperature.
The dye solution incorporated faster and the mixture returned to a smooth paste quickly in room temperature alginate. The cold alginate was gloppy (that's a technical term).

At the end of mixing the 4 batches I had failed to recreate the disastrous tapioca effect, so I just dumped everything together into one bowl and started mixing. I figured it was perfectly good dye; why waste it? And what happened!? It didn't curdle completely, but somewhat. My theory is that when I dumped the incompletely dissolved dye/tap water solution into the whole mix I also dumped in all of the undissolved bits at the bottom of the cup. In the controlled experiment I measured spoonfuls from the surface of the mixture and probably got few if any grainy bits.

So, while I don't have the time or patience to delve further into the science of what's happening here, my general conclusion regarding how to mix print paste with this particular color of dye powder (which should probably be applied to all colors) is:

• Bring the thickener to room temperature before mixing in the dye solution.
• Dissolve dye in urea water instead of tap water.

I almost wish I was back in high school so I could squeeze a science project out of this little exercise. Who knew that art could be so fussy?

New work, none of it finished, some of it scary

I did a bunch of errands Saturday morning, then managed to carve out the entire afternoon for printing. I ended up with a lot of red, blue, and orange, which certainly aren't a bad family of colors, but I was really in more of a green mood. Unfortunately I think there's something wrong with my year-old jar of sun yellow dye powder (ProChem MX 108). When does this stuff go bad? Every time I mix it into sodium alginate paste it curdles the alginate. It's very weird. Other colors of about the same age behave normally. I'm mixing the dye powder with straight water (i.e., no urea) then stirring it into the alginate paste. The result is like scrambled eggs. Would a little urea or metaphos made a difference in this case. We don't have hard water here so I'm thinking the answer is no. This might be a question for Vicki Jensen.

Anyway, here's Saturdays work. I don't know if these are going to get more work or just get set aside for piecing.

And, in the interest of semi-full disclosure, here are before and after shots of a yard of rayon that I tried to "improve." You be the judge. I think it might look a little bit better in person. Ironically, I was trying to deemphasize the small red squares, which I didn't like. I screened brown squares over almost all of it and it seemed too dark. I did a little discharging and now it looks sort of distressed--or maybe I mean distressing. This might be a foundation for some heavy applique.

On the passing of an artist

I learned today that the author Madeleine L'Engle died or September 6 at age 88. She is perhaps best known for her award-winning children's book, "A Wrinkle in Time," which won the John Newbery Award in 1963 and has since sold millions of copies. She also wrote many books for adults, some of which deal with her spiritual life. She was an Episcopalian (my team) who was devoted to both her faith and her craft. She was at one time Writer-in-Residence at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City.

Last year I read, "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art," and found it more than just interesting--it was eye-opening. It's from her that I first heard the idea that art, made in a spiritually open way, has the ability to place the artist into the role of "co-creator" with God. Amazing stuff, and just what I needed to read at the time, as I struggled to find balance in my own life.

Eighty-eight years is a good long run. Can I mourn the passing of someone I didn't know, who lived a thoughtful and productive life, and died peacefully? Perhaps not, but I think I harbored some small idea that someday I might meet her, even though she was no longer making public appearances. I suppose that meeting will have to wait.

Labor Day weekend in Rehoboth

Dan & I are spending Labor Day weekend in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware with our friends Howard & Patrick and a whole cast of other close friends and dogs. The weather's been beautiful enough to make me almost forget rest of the scorching summer. It's been temperate, breezy, and sunny since we arrived Saturday morning. After three days at the beach my freckles are starting to coalesce.

Time here is pleasantly unstructured, but it's always anchored by morning coffee and newspapers on the front porch. The newspapers don't seem to get a thorough read until later in the day because this initial perusal is always accompanied by politically astute, extremely liberal, terribly erudite, and witheringly witty conversation. It's 4-8 gay men in their 40s and 50s holding forth on politics (local, national, and international) Washington gossip, theatre, film, literature, food, and of course the lives, wardrobes, and foibles of friends. It can be a bit intimidating at times, but always interesting. I've heard a lot of ideas expressed on this porch over the years: love, happiness, frustration, anger, but never hate. I think that says something about the shared values of my family of friends.

It's been a nice time to catch up with friends, eat and drink a descent amount, and do not too much of anything else. I always bring things to read and they almost always go untouched. I've done a few overdue e-mails to friends. Now I'm writing this from the front porch, enjoying a few moments of late afternoon solitude. By sunset they'll be 4 of us left from the group of 10 yesterday. It's the beginning of a quiet end to a quiet weekend before we return to work on Wednesday. Not bad. Not too bad at all.

Tonight, fewer words and more pictures

A piece that's nearing completion

I don't know if I have a good picture of an earlier stage of this piece, but it's a bit of printed cloth I brought back from Peters Valley. When I started working on it again the yellow and green areas were printed. I did some hand stitching with black embroidery thread to add a little detail in a few areas, but that wasn't giving me what I wanted. So, I used a free-motion couching foot on my sewing machine to add the back yarn outlines. You can probably see that better in the detailed picture below, or by clicking on this one to enlarge it. The black lines helped a lot, but then I was troubled by the white background, so I scribbled in some color with a few caran d'ache water soluble crayons then blended with diluted ProFab extender and a bit of brown paint. Very fun and a good effect.

In this shot you can see circles of couched yarn that I used to fill in some of the open circles. I started out as a kind of weak green--nothing that I little dye wasn't able to fix. I think I might be dying some more cotton yarn soon. A this point I just need to do the final trimming and binding. Right now I'm letting it rest for a while to see if in needs anything else.

Other pieces in work

Here's somethings else that came from Peters Valley. I like the big red square, and there's something good, but perhaps a bit weak going on with the other colors. The small red squares are a awful. This is the before shot. Since then I've screen blocks of brown over the whole thing and now I think I'm ready to start discharging. I've very hopeful.

This one's a batik from a few weeks ago that I pleated, clamped, and over-dyed with turquise to reduce the contrast. I'm tempted to cut it up, but I really like the overall linear pattern and think that I can make something out of it as the background for whole composition. There needs to be more dye and I'm thinking that some applique might be in this one's future.

After a busy weekend, at the start of a busy week

Yes, busy is the name of the game these days, but it beats the hell out of bored. Let's see...where to begin. Well for starters Dan's Mom, Cynthia, rang up last week and said she figured that our calendars appeared to be in one of their rare states of alignment, and shouldn't she come of a visit over the weekend. Of course Dan and I were both delighted and set about the task of clearing piles of my junk out of the guest room. We picked her up at BWI on Saturday morning and spent the lovely 100-degree day museum-hopping in Baltimore. Cynthia's a quilter, and as luck would have it, we were able to assemble a very nice fiber-focused itinerary.

We started off at the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA) to see the NUNO exhibit. I read about NUMO (a Japanese textile manufacturer) in the last issue of Surface Design and was delighted to find an exhibit practically in my back yard. It's cool stuff, and the thought and design process behind it is fascinating: things like wrapping up rayon with wet rusted iron plates for a couple of weeks, sandwiching feathers between layers of dyed silk, and reproducing the look of rubber bands scattered on a windowsill. The presentation was beautiful. It was a small room in a quiet part of the museum and each piece was presented as a hanging 2-3 yard length of plain cloth. No fuss with binding or the like. It was very much an "art cloth" style of presentation. I came away with a few ideas: rusty nails for one.

For me no visit to BMA is complete without stopping to see the fantastic collection of Matisse in the Cone collection. I'm utterly convinced that if Henri were with us today he would be a fiber artist. We talk about artists who do surface design having a "painterly" style. Well, I look at some (not all, but enough) of his work and I see painted/printed cloth. Yes, of course he painted on canvas, but I mean some of it I want to cut out of the frame and curl up with it. He even include textiles in his paintings--detailed rugs and wallpaper. I'm right about this. He's one of us.

After a little nosh at a greasy-spoonish sort of diner along Howard Avenue we were off to the Walters Art Museum. Oh. Oh. Oh. I'm ashamed to say that I never knew this place existed and it's right in the heart of the city (even in a good neighborhood!). We only left because they threw us out when the place closed at 5. It's a beautiful small-to medium sized museum with a lovely and well-curated collection of paintings and an impressive collection of a Greek, Egyptian, Roman, Etruscan, etc. objects. Cynthia managed to find a mummified cat! (Hillary's sitting on the table as I write this and I just can imagine wrapping her up like a buritto and keeping her around for all eternity). So, the fiber connection: it was the second-to-last day of the show "Gee's Bend" the Architecture of the Quilt." This is the second Gee's Bend show and I enjoyed it as much as the first. Just as with the first show, which I saw at the Corcoran a couple of years ago, I was struck by the fact that these women, by their own admission, were trying to keep their families from freezing. They needed to cover their beds. But, even in the midst of that intensely practical concern, even after a day of hard work, their God-given spirit and creative vision found expression in these quilts.

It's late. I'll write more tomorrow if I can manage. I've got pictures of evolving work to share. In the meantime here's a teaser. This one's of you Rayna. I screened that deconstructed blue and chino piece (see July 31) with thyox. There was a stem an a few leaves of wisteria stuck to the screen. I'm really pleased with the result. Not sure what comes next, but I feel that this piece needs to stay together as a whole cloth. Time will tell.

Disconcerting discernment

I have to admit that the novelty of the blog has drawn my attention away from my private journal, but I returned to that sorely neglected volume this weekend and have been thinking about what I wrote ever since. I've spent the last several weeks focusing my energy and attention on my art, leaving the issues of discernment and call fallow--partly with the intention of seeing what develops and partly as a much-needed escape from that particular arena of self-scrutiny.

As I was writing this weekend I was struck by the phrase "Follow the money." That's what they always say in TV crime dramas: follow the trail of the money associated with a crime and it will lead you back to the bad guy. For me, the parallel thought that followed was, "Follow the energy." Perhaps this is pathetically obvious to those who know me well, but for me it's something I'm still coming to terms with. What if I look honestly and critically at myself and ask the question, "Where is my passion and energy?" Is it for ordained ministry within the church? Is it ministry of another kind through art? Can that other ministry be within the church? Is it exclusive of ordination? Honestly, just don't know the answer, but for about 2 months now I've been leaning more toward finding some form of non-ordained ministry and I've started to face up to the fact that it's making art that really gets me going. Strangely I'm finding that change in perspective hard, possibly even disappointing. I've spend a long time getting my head around the idea of possibly being a priest. Now I feel as though I need to disentangle myself from that line of thinking (even if only temporarily) if I'm going to figure out what the real answer is to those questions.

As I read back over it, the preceding paragraph sounds so wishy-washy and tentative, but I actually feel like it's progress. Maybe some of us we need to take a while to figure out what we're not going to do before we can figure out what we are going to do. And, interestingly enough, that line of thinking harks back to Parker Palmer's book, Let Your Life Speak: Listening to the Voice of Vocation, which I've read twice and found challenging each time. He makes a strong case for not doing the wrong thing for the right reason.

On the up side, I've taken a yard of cloth that I printed at Peters Valley and begun working back into it with hand stitching, machine couching of yarn, painting. I have a plan to do a bit of applique work and quilt the whole piece. I hope to have something to show (prior to quilting) in a couple of days.

Enough for now...more than enough.

Thoughts about critique

A few weeks back I read an interesting and thought-provoking article in Jane Dunnewold's HeArtCloth Quartly titled "The Art of Critique" (Winter 2007). The general thrust of the article is posing and answering the question "What are my responsibilities when seeking or offering criticism?" Jane includes a detailed discussion of the tools of artistic critique. For example a well-rounded knowledge of color theory, design, etc. are essential to offering a productive critique. She also stresses the need for ethical, detached feedback--not getting into personal attack. I wasn't surprised by any of these points, and frankly it's nice to have a gentle reminder every so often. The point in the article that struck me most was the responsibility of the artist to be clear with themselves and others about the nature of the criticism being sought. In particular there is a clear difference between asking for feedback on a finished piece and asking for assistance in resolving issues with a work-in-progress. This has been kicking around in my head ever since I read it. I recently (i.e., 15 minutes ago) had the experiencing of asking a very open-ended question (mistake #1) at the wrong time (mistake #2) and probably from the wrong person (mistake #3). To be specific: I asked Dan his design opinion about a piece I'm working on when he was trying to eat. It seemed like a perfectly fine time to me. I mean, gosh, I'd gladly talk about art with my mouth full! I value Dan's opinion, but perhaps this particular situation might have been akin to him asking my opinion about which brand of motor oil I think he should put in the car. My answer probably would have been something like, "Oil? I thought they ran on gasoline?" An exaggeration yes, but it makes a point. It's no reflection on Dan. I keep wanting this to be his thing, but it's not.

I wish I could say this was a great learning experience, but I've made this mistake before and I still haven't learned. I'm going to take this as another good motivator for me to connect with some other local artists for this type of support.

Rainy Friday

Yesterday we woke up to a crystal clear blue sky; today it's solid gray and light rain. Dan's half way through his second book and I'm not all that far behind. Yesterday we did end of driving back up to P'town and had a nice walk out across the breakwater. We decided that with the cool temperature and breeze it might not be a good day for the beach, which was an unfortunate mistake. Once we made it through the dunes to the beach we it was an almost perfect beach day. Oh well. we had a great walk out an back. The breakwater is a line of large granite boulders stretching about a mile across the hook at the tip of the Cape, which helps protect the wetland and harbor. The walk is not only a decent workout, but also affords some great views of the town, the wetland, and the intertidal life on the rocks.

This is the view of the marsh from the breakwater looking toward the dunes. The tide was going out. I think that the best time for this walk. It takes about an hour to walk out and back. In that time you see more and more of the wetland and the rocks exposed and the color always seems to be changing.

I'm not sure why, but I never seem to tire of photographing these views or the details of the breakwater.

Part of the appeal is the quiet and the sense of open space. Another part has to be the color palette and the texture of the scenery. The marsh grass, the water, the sky, the rocks, even the human textures of harbor towns like this speak to me. I don't particularly care for how artsy and contrived that sounds, but I'm at a loss for better words.

[gallery ids="1144,1143,1142,1141,1139"]

Steam heat

The weather channel says that DC is suffering under searing heat. Here on the Cape it's all about rain, fog, and serious humidity. Yesterday was so-so, but today was absolute yuck. However, as I write this the clouds have broken, the humidity is improving, and there's hope for a fine day tomorrow. We're talking about going to the P'town to continue our walk, pick up some lunch, and head to the beach. Last night we went to the movies at Cape Cinema and saw "Becoming Jane," which is great if you're a Jane Austen fan. If you're not, it's still a nice story, but as biographies go, I think you lose something by not knowing the back story. In this case the back story is recognizing in the persons of her parents, sisters, relatives, and acquaintances the traits of the characters who people her novels. Now, as for the theater, it's very cool. It's an original single-screen theater that dates from the early 30's, complete with a beautiful art deco mural on the ceiling. The seats are individual arm chairs with upholstered seats. I thought they were very quaint until about 60 minutes into the film with my butt started really hurting. Oh well, I guess that's just part of getting old?

Live from Harwich

Dan and I are in Harwich, MA on Cape Code for the week visiting with our friends Randy and Brian for a couple of days, then house sitting for them while they're at the ACC show in San Francisco. It's always a treat to be here. It's peaceful. I've yet to encounter any place that's quite like Cape Cod. Even though it's crowded this time of year, there's something clean, clear, and refreshing about the air. The guys have also made such a wonderful home for themselves. It's more like visiting a private garden and getting to stay the night in the quirky, beautiful craft museum/workshop that happens to be on the grounds. I guess that's what happens to avid creators and collectors: their homes become venues for presenting the collection; places to live with the art.

By coincidence Sunday was the day of one of their rare studio sales. Here's front entrance to the barn early in the morning as the frenzy of setup is just winding down. I assume that it was a frenzy. I slept through it.

Look at these amazing scarves. Of course the photo doesn't come anywhere near doing them justice. Spectacular weaving, color, composition, and texture aside, what blows me away about this particular image is presentation (I hate to say merchandising). This is spectacular wearable art hung from hooks next to the rough-hewn interior surface of the barn's interior walls. What you don't see in this picture is the rest of the room and the canopied back patio filled with scarves, dresses, vests, jackets, and more, all presented and lit in a way that creates a sense of unpretentious drama and wonder. At least for me it did.

So, while all this was going on, Dan and I made ourselves scarce so as not to be under foot while serious money-making business was being done. We went to church at Christ Church Episcopal in Harwich Port, which was small, lovely, and very welcoming. Because we were visiting they gave us a little loaf of cranberry bread. How cute is that?

Then we had a little nosh on our way to the big flea market at Wellfleet Drive-In. There were some really scary people there buying tube socks and XXXL irregular T shirts, but there was also a whole area for vintage/old/antique/junk stuff, which was pretty cool. We bought an old white painted cabinet with screened doors--most appropriate for a kitchen, but we're thinking it might get incorporated into the master bedroom or guest room redecorations planned for the coming year.

I also bought what I went there hoping to find: 2 really cool trivets to use as batik tools, and what I believe is a genuine wooden tjap (also for applying batik wax to fabric), although the vendor said she thought it was for block printing wallpaper. Either way I'm delighted. The tjap (shown at left below) is about 5" x 6". One of the trivets is shown on the right

We had lunch at Clem & Ursie's in P'town (fish place out on Shankpainter Road). Dan has had his lobster roll fix, although there will probably be a need for another later this week. This place is expensive for what you get, but the food is undeniably delicious. After lunch we had a little stroll down part of Commercial Street before heading back to Harwich. I love P'town and miss it, but I think I might really be missing what it used to be like.

P'town was the place where two guys or two women could hold hands walking down the street and be greeted by smiles, even an occasional lusty grin, but never a look of scorn. It used to be a sort of gay sacred ground. Now, there's a tourist trolly that runs families around for 40-minute tours, and auto traffic is restricted on Commercial for part of the day. I can only assume that's to address the problem of double-wide strollers that don't fit on the sidewalk. The place hasn't lost it's gay people, but it seems to have lost some of its edge. It's even like this at night. I know it makes me sound old, but I remember when the families fled at sundown because they were afraid their kids would see a man in a dress, some guy with his bare ass hanging out of leather chaps, or two women kissing. Assimilation may not be all it's cracked up to be.

Picking away

I'd love to say that I haven't been posting because I've been too busy dying one fabulous yard of cloth after another--no such luck. Work's been crazy, then there was the new Harry Potter book that demanded to be read immediately (and it was worth it!). I do have a couple of things in process.

Here's that same old batik piece. I got frustrated with it because it was just too high contrast with those damned white circles. I grabbed a dirty screen (and I'm talkin' drips and smears of dye that I forgot to wash out) and deconstructed it with a not-too-strong mix of Pro Chem Chino and thickener. It's way better and could now be either a background for something more or at least something to cut up. I'm kicking around some ideas.

This next one was me just wanting to play with dye and beak-in a new screen. I grabbed whatever dye I happened to have mixed up, and once again a dirty screen. I think I deconstructed the blue then added the light brown (leftover Chino) the next day. Again, I'm not sure where this one's going. For now I'm having fun looking at it. It's making me think of Caribbean beaches.

So, this weekend I'm flying to Providence, RI to meet Dan, who's currently in CT on business, then we're driving out to stay with friends on the Cape. They're both artists so it makes for great conversations. I'm going back and forth with myself about whether to take recent work to show then. On one hand they're both role models (working, well regarded craftspeople whose work I respect and admire); on the other they're intimidating, at least in this regard.

I love the Cape. I'm taking a sketch book, a novel, a camera, a couple changes of cloths, and not much else.

The end of a busy weekend

What an amazing weekend it's been in DC. The weather's been unseasonably pleasant: comfortably warm, dry, and low humidity. Yes, the lawns are all brown from so little rain, but the pleasure of being outside in mid-July without feeling like the shower you took this morning was a waste of time, ah such a treat. It's about 9:45 on Sunday night. I'm sitting at the dining room table near the open window and there's a slight cool breeze that carries with it the promise of great sleeping.

And speaking of great sleep. I finally finished the quilt that I started last September to use up some nervous energy while Dan and I were preparing for our commitment ceremony. It doesn't normally take me a year to complete a quilt, but this one got a little out of hand and there were a few distractions--like a wedding.

I designed it thinking about the traditional wedding ring design. The central motif is the closest thing to that basic concept. The things around it are rings that don't conform to the traditional pattern. The other "rings" in the quilt all vary in size and have offset centers. They were assembled as raw-edge applique on white squares, which were then overdyed brown and lightly discharged to given them some age, some weather. The other squares are an assortment of shibori patterns, dyed and overdyed. Some of these blocks were quartered, mixed up with each other, then reassembled and overdyed. All of this was intended to create a sense of the offbeat, the free spirit, and the willingness to embrace what is different, vibrant, and colorful.

It's pretty densely quilted. The blocks with the circles are stippled and the other blocks are filled with a meandering sort of spiral. I did all of the free-motion quilting on a Bernina Aurora 440 with a stitch regulator. I still find it challenging the quilt large pieces like this, but I have to say that once I got used to the regulator it really did make a difference. Now if I could just manage to relax a little more when I quilt. I swear I tense up so much it feels like I've just about raised my shoulders over my head.

Well, that's enough for now. It's Dan's turn with the new Harry Potter. We're taking turns reading chapters. It's pretty good so far. Since I can't read it's probably a good time to go to bed.

Christmas came early

OK, I knon that title's semi-blasphemous, but it's a cultural reference that captures the last few days fairly well. That sewing machine I was selling on eBay...it sold for twice as much as I was hoping to get for it! If I can get a decent price for my embroidery machine it should just about cover the cost of my new Aurora 440. (Let's not talk about the embroidery module that I recently added to it, or for that matter, the software that I'm about to buy).

If that wasn't enough, I came home on Wednesday to find the front step covered in packages from Dick Blick and Pro Chem. I won't be so happy when the Visa bill comes, but for now it's fun. A lot of the purchases were for things that I tried and loved in Kerr's workshop, like the Caran d'Ache water-based crayons that you can use to hand color a screen and release with fabric paint medium (ProFab). Very cool.

I'm still contemplating the unfinished batik that I posted earlier this week. I agree with Rayna's comment that it's nice yardage, but not a finished composition unto itself. I also think that cutting it and starting to combine it with other cloth might be the next step. However, contemplating that next step has made me realize how much I hate cutting large pieces of hand dyed fabric. I have no problem slicing and dicing commercial fabric. The exception to that is of course really expensive or beautiful stuff that needs to be fondled, loved, and admired for a while before taking out the rotary cutter.

Last night I sat in the back yard with a Scotch staring at the cloth hanging on the clothes line trying to listen to what it's saying. I know just how "new age" that sounds, but I do think that if I can step back far enough from something I've made, I can see/hear something. Of course, what I hear might not be anything profound; it could be static, but even in that there's an element of revelation. So far this piece is saying something about circles, cycles, spirals, little cycles within larger ones, perhaps independent cycles that are isolated from each other (that's kind of sad). These circles/spheres/planets(?) need to be connected, unified, related to one another and to a larger cycle.

...Or I could just cut the whole thing up. I need to let this stew a little more.

As I reread what I just wrote I'm reminded just how much the language and practice of surface design overlap with spiritual direction, contemplative prayer, meditation, and psychotherapy. Isn't it great when things start to connect?

Is this finished?

Following up on July 16 post about about the batik piece that I began at PV. Here it is with some black detail added with thickened dye in a dental syringe (fiber artists use some weird tools).

Better? Definately--especially up close.

But is it done? My intention is to quilt this as a whole piece. Right now I think it has a problem with scale and focus. It's an interesting overall pattern, but when I look at it my eye has no place to land; nothing to contemplate. I'm thinking that my next step might be to take the pattern of the batiked circle, enlarge it, perhaps distort it a bid, and render it on the surface in a dark color. For example, I might paint the pattern into an empty screen with thickened dye then release it several times with clear alginate and let the pattern deconstruct. I invite your thoughts if you care to offer them.

Changing tastes

The sun has set. I've washed out a yard of cotton that I batiked last night. (After an hour and a half with the tjanting I have confirmed that there is not an ounce of Indonesian blood in my veins. It was fun enough, but I don't know that I could do yard after yard). I had a little dinner "devant le TV". I even made a quick run to Joanne Fabric for embroidery supplies. It really makes me grateful for Internet shopping--you the product you're looking for and none of the squalor).

Now I'm sitting on the back porch and occasionally glancing over at a chair across the room that's slipcovered in a comfortable cotton in a muted green, tan, and brown leaf and flower pattern. The slipcover is an artifact from my "floral period," when I thought that chintz is what they wore in the Garden of Eden and that there was no such thing as too much floral fabric or even too much variety of it in any given room. Mercifully for my eyes and those of my family and friends I grew out of that phase. This vestigial chair is OK, and it sort of fits in the with the relaxed, shabby chic thing going on in this room. (I should digress here and say that this is an enclosed porch with sliding glass windows and air conditioning. I am NOT discussing a piece of fully-upholstered furniture on an outdoor porch!)

Where am I going with this? Tastes change. Despite the fact that I can't seem to put anythings away--especially books and fabric--I'm really into clean lines and simpler patterns right now. I don't know what this is about? Is is just getting older or am I an undiagnosed fashion victim? The clean, simple, spa thing seems very in. I swear I was there first! Clutter, too much visual noise, and poor lighting all drive me absolutely crazy right now. I think it might also be the stress and pace of the rest of my life that's making me crave retreat and tranquility at home.

The strange thing is that this tranquility and simplicity does not always seem to be present in the art I'm making. I don't think that I have a particularly jarring color palette or a taste for chaos or in-your-face design; just the opposite. And, maybe that's OK. From my perspective I'd rather look at a beautiful painting, textile, or piece of pottery in a room than a loud chair that's screaming, "Pay no attention to the art! Look at me!"

La vie continue

La vie continue - life goes on.
Despite the fact that I went to bed feeling sorry for myself and sad, I did in fact wake up this morning and life went on. Dan's in California on business (crash test at some lab out in the middle of the desert). We talked on the phone a couple of times. Work was hectic, but I came home and had time to water the garden, eat a quick dinner, and...drum roll please...take my new print table for its maiden voyage. I started working some black line detail back into a batik piece that I brought back from PV. I'm feeling too lazy to load pictures right now. I'll batch it tomorrow, and it if washes out well we can have before and after shots tomorrow.

Oh, wait. I do have a before shot. Here it is hanging on the clothes line in the back yard.

The circles & swirls ($5 trivet from Target, thank you very much) are a little bit high contract in this photo. I don't think they read as strong in person. Up close, it actually looks like it needs a little more punch and a bit more spontaneity. Whenever I feel that way it's usually a hint that it needs some black. From Kerr I learned about the magic dental syringe. Trying to draw/write with the curved tip of a good-sized syringe held in a way that you would never hold a pencil or brush is somehow liberating to me. Once you start squeezing you've got to move or you'll just make a big blob of thickened dye. The need to move, to think quickly--better still, to not think so much, but rather to act--is good for my brain. We'll see what the result looks like tomorrow.

In other news, I'm selling one of my sewing machines on eBay: my Bernina 153QE. After 3 1/2 days of people looking at it I'm finally getting bids. I'm happy to say that at this point I've probably gotten enough to consider the sale a tentative success. Fingers crossed it will end smoothly.

Letting go

Ouch. What a day.

Today was Karla's last day. She leaves Wednesday for her new home and new church in Hickory, NC, but today was the final, official, and absolute leave-taking at St. Andrew's. It was harder than I thought it would be. I've been surprised like this before--tripped up by something I thought would be easy only to find that it was any thing but. I thought that I could be very mature about the whole thing. Surely focusing on the positive aspects of this change would make it all so much easier, right?. I saw her Tuesday at Vicki's birthday party; then on Thursday we had our last discernment meeting and dinner with Dan; I ran into her at the movie theater on Friday; and finally the farewell BBQ last night (which turned out fantastic). These were all happy occasions. So, I left for church this morning knowing that it would be an important and meaningful day. I even stuffed a tissue into my pocket as I rushed out the door--just in case. I was managing pretty well until Karla approached me at the communion rail. I couldn't look up. The dam broke just about the time the wafer touched my hand. We held hands for a moment. That was it. I couldn't take any more. I half stumbled into the sacristy with a communion wafer epoxied to the roof of my mouth and stood hunched over the counter, trying desperately to be something other than a nearly 45 year old man having a public breakdown. I don't know why I'm writing this; all I'm doing is making it hurt all over again.

I'm not sure what more to write about this day. I've written and erased several paragraphs trying to get the words out of my head so I can go to bed. Perhaps what I want to say is, Thank you God for the grace and blessing of Karla's ministry at St. Andrews. She stood with me at my confirmation, worked beside me and led though my vestry and warden service, invited me into her pulpit to preach, "married" me and Dan, sees me for who I am (often better than I see myself), believes in me, and has paid me the great compliment of letting down her guard to tell some of her own stories. What wondrous gifts. Thanks be to God.