Good heavens. I am enslaved to my muse who cares not what we will do with all these patchwork garments. Hell, she won’t even let me think much on how we might be creating yet another burden in terms of clothing I can’t sell. No, I am simply completely smitten with pieces of fabric, quilting with the serger, and debating how many times I will cut something up, assemble it, cut it up again and then assemble it.
Here is the second complete garment:
Now what? This:
Once it’s assembled as laid out, I’m going to cut it up again, into maybe 3″ wide strips, then reassemble. Because I am insane. My shoulders are killing me, my hands are killing me, but I can’t stop. At this point, still a long distance from the finish line, I am already casting about for what else I’ll chop up next.
I know where it all ends, I do, yet—I love being engaged in a project.
Oh look, I forgot about my empty little unread blog.
It was an intense semester and there was a point where all extraneous activities had to be set on the back burner. Fortunately, said semester is now over as is work in general until mid-January, 2015. Naturally, I’ve been making things, all kind and manner of things, all of which are lovely and seem not to sell.
I made these:
The are all for sale in my Etsy shop.
That is only the tip of the iceberg, though, so watch this space. I’ve starting working with beading again, which is murder on my hands and strains my eyes but also feels like a grownup version of coloring and is very satisfying. I may even go back to beading some of my artwork, something I did some years ago, gluing tiny seed beads one-by-one and inadvertently sniffing a lot of 527 cement. Sewing them to things is really exciting because I can string up to three tiny tiny beads at one time rather than doing them all individually. Yet, I see a future hunched over a drawing with my tweezers and glue in hand, I do.
Health-wise, I am doing mostly okay. I have cut just about all ties with traditional medicine. I am taking no prescription drugs, and while I know there is no sense in issuing ultimatums, I’m going to stay in that place as long as I can. Massage is helping. I was good to myself and didn’t even cancel my weekly appointment when we were in the hellish stages of pre-production, leaving work and returning in an oily but relaxed state. It was hard, initially, to stand up to someone else’s tendency towards martyrdom and refuse to play, but I did, and it got much easier.
I am learning to avoid the siren song of martyrdom in general, as I also continue to work with The Shrink. Those two things are doing me much more good than all the appointments and drugs and physical therapy ever did. At least for now.
I will try not to abandon you for so long again, I will.
I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid I often felt squelched in my artistic pursuits. Like, the time we had watched some TV show about Scotland and they made blood pudding, and I later drew a sheep with a hole in it and blood squirting out (I suddenly dearly wish I had never gotten rid of that drawing) and a parent shrieked, “WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?” Or doing a sort of Jackson Pollack free-form thing in crayon in school only to be told, sternly, that it was not “a pattern” (that teacher was wrong, it wasn’t a repetitive pattern, but in third grade one doesn’t know that).
I kind of got trained that “playing” and “making art” were not compatible activities, so I started to take my art REALLY SERIOUSLY and sometimes, even, I took it so seriously that I wouldn’t do any work for oh, a year or two. SERIOUSLY SERIOUS, was I.
Lately, at this advanced developmental stage of 44 years old, I’ve been trying to just “fool around” a little in the studio. Mess about. Today, that resulted in this necklace, which came about as I dismantled a shrug I’d made several years ago that was too “something” to sell here. It was fun, and organic, and I actually like and would wear the result. I might even make more of them just for, well, just for FUN.