tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881185384334838952024-03-18T09:21:13.628-04:00Art With a NeedleKathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.comBlogger2740125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-13119639090275448682023-10-22T22:23:00.004-04:002023-10-22T22:23:23.574-04:00Daily art on the cruise 2<p>I wrote in my last post about a large piece of stitching that I did on my cruise, and said that I was not pleased with the result. </p><p>The next piece I worked on made me much happier.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDM7Hc-HnJWu4ViFhDlny6Wz0kl8pt6OcLm85dhFyCWz3KRUNQ3S04d0jJVE3JjdkBctzyC9obJaKhVYDa-IOBb3eTkBbSUZxE_BuFmsfIVp-YhuFvw5TYBFZLJzarxjlBA6AO30Mgc7ogkpiCwWzJh3bUA7K5eUOzbsmB7ztUeJrueoO1prZr_stXloE/s3814/IMG_20230731_193848056.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2675" data-original-width="3814" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDM7Hc-HnJWu4ViFhDlny6Wz0kl8pt6OcLm85dhFyCWz3KRUNQ3S04d0jJVE3JjdkBctzyC9obJaKhVYDa-IOBb3eTkBbSUZxE_BuFmsfIVp-YhuFvw5TYBFZLJzarxjlBA6AO30Mgc7ogkpiCwWzJh3bUA7K5eUOzbsmB7ztUeJrueoO1prZr_stXloE/w400-h280/IMG_20230731_193848056.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stitching, July 31<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /><br /></p><p>It was fun to be working on color after two weeks of beige, and I started out making little stars in the corner for a sky, but after only one day of stars I shifted to blanket stitch across the bottom for the earth in a landscape. And after only one day of that, I realized that the sashiko thread wasn't playing well with blanket stitch. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_9iHOQC-zxOZ8ssCXbACIrC4NtUQvznNnW_aA1gSEu0V4SFvj_FJMGb7S6eR3QsMTQvW9nwEjWCtRfDLLdxC8U48MlCs1Kp3-czI8rltc0TmDkgj9hJkaOFuUKOncpPT_6dNRt9qihN1S_aiVZmeyAedf1P1GjhyAgxxVOmubNqYc8Vbhpkby4BuDUw/s4032/IMG_20230801_220003807.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2183" data-original-width="4032" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_9iHOQC-zxOZ8ssCXbACIrC4NtUQvznNnW_aA1gSEu0V4SFvj_FJMGb7S6eR3QsMTQvW9nwEjWCtRfDLLdxC8U48MlCs1Kp3-czI8rltc0TmDkgj9hJkaOFuUKOncpPT_6dNRt9qihN1S_aiVZmeyAedf1P1GjhyAgxxVOmubNqYc8Vbhpkby4BuDUw/w400-h216/IMG_20230801_220003807.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stitching, August 1<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I don't have a lot of experience with sashiko thread, despite having admired its use by many other artists. A friend gave me a package of it some time ago, but I only started using it earlier this year. I love it for straight stitches, but apparently the blanket stitch causes the thread to twist and I found that after four or five inches, the two strands of the thread would start to separate, and I didn't like the looks of the stitches with the two distinct strands. I compensated by twirling the thread in the opposite direction between finger and thumb every few stitches, but this was tedious and imperfect.</p><p>Before too long I was planning my exit strategy from blanket stitch, plus an exit strategy from the six-pointed stars, which I realized would be boring if they filled the whole sky. There had been a supermoon earlier that week, with lots of nice pictures on TV, so I decided to put a supermoon in my landscape. I wanted it to be perfectly round, so I made a template and filled the circle with tightly packed coral stitch.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLninjt8eEYuOZ3u-YSrQVLGe91ur9-X5yTwWXO0FxYXdbKyW_LfQ8WVpCEyNx-zO4HKuMrzQembWaCyqWJcokL2JrwBwN1d0S70CjIqZcm8nnytLXtOlpS8_6TZ5yVX2TEp9z10t4TYkmzpUK1B_wDmzqTESqnC5tmWVYG7KhdFxaSz7nifdiq3mCIE/s3560/IMG_20230806_201252383.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2648" data-original-width="3560" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLninjt8eEYuOZ3u-YSrQVLGe91ur9-X5yTwWXO0FxYXdbKyW_LfQ8WVpCEyNx-zO4HKuMrzQembWaCyqWJcokL2JrwBwN1d0S70CjIqZcm8nnytLXtOlpS8_6TZ5yVX2TEp9z10t4TYkmzpUK1B_wDmzqTESqnC5tmWVYG7KhdFxaSz7nifdiq3mCIE/w400-h297/IMG_20230806_201252383.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stitching, August 6</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The moon went slowly, and on August 10 I had a disaster, taking a classic face-plant fall when we were ashore in Ireland. I smashed my glasses and ended up with a beautiful black eye. That left me coping for the rest of the trip with my $2 glasses that I had luckily stuck in my cosmetic case just in case. They focused about 24 inches from my eye, perfect for computer work and acceptable for reading on my phone, but not well suited for precise embroidery. <p></p><p>I could see well enough to finish the moon and start a new density of sky, in which I picked up only one thread in a tiny dot of a stitch. But I couldn't see well enough to actually do the tiny stitches accurately. So in a snit, I switched to another piece of fabric and started a new stitching. It was not well planned, and it looked terrible. So I slunk back to my blue landscape and resolved that I would figure out how to soldier through for the ten days left in the cruise.</p><p>Turns out that sometimes you can overcome adversity with a good attitude and a willingness to try what seems impossible. I found that I could reliably make stitches over a single thread of background fabric by feel, if not by sight. The hefty homespun-type fabric had fat enough threads that I could place the tip of the needle at the hole where the thread emerged, then carefully move it up and over one thread and stick the needle in where it came down over the hump. This worked for probably nine stitches out of every ten, and on the tenth, I was willing to pull the thread out for a do-over. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKu2tLomAZ1jAjYkgoDP3YdVgSE7IjYho8FMr1Pxz52vy-9Rkqj68Lptktvh6dHKmK92NsxLgx2Bsuw1Gql8Miou2Ug1McdAle5rfegtGb3Gy2v30ycvETk-qLJ4r3-qMRPGvbm5-l31e00DzPvWr9g3PU0kXc0YuZ3NqjUOcowN1CCpzZar7CRoWt94/s4023/IMG_20231016_152153911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1404" data-original-width="4023" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKu2tLomAZ1jAjYkgoDP3YdVgSE7IjYho8FMr1Pxz52vy-9Rkqj68Lptktvh6dHKmK92NsxLgx2Bsuw1Gql8Miou2Ug1McdAle5rfegtGb3Gy2v30ycvETk-qLJ4r3-qMRPGvbm5-l31e00DzPvWr9g3PU0kXc0YuZ3NqjUOcowN1CCpzZar7CRoWt94/w400-h140/IMG_20231016_152153911.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stitching, August 23</td></tr></tbody></table><br />At home, of course, I wouldn't dream of being so picky and patient, but what else was there to do while listening to lawyers talk about the fine points of mugshots? It was surprisingly calming to slowly stitch a Milky Way across the blue, and I finished the piece a couple of days before we came home.</p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-6374440380148231882023-10-13T16:15:00.000-04:002023-10-13T16:15:30.393-04:00Daily art on the cruise 1<p>I do daily art, you know, and I
gave some thought to how to do this while traveling. Most of the time
this year I have been doing a separate small piece of stitching each day,
working from my huge inherited stash of my friend Joanne's leftover fabrics.
But I didn't want to have to prepare 35 pieces of fabric to take along.
So I found four large pieces, packed a couple of skeins of white sashiko thread
and worked a little bit each day. </p><p>
<span face="Calibri, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;">The routine on a cruise ship varies depending on whether you're at sea or making a port stop for the day. On sea days there are more activities such as concerts and lectures, and I did a lot of stitching during those events. But where I really went to town was while watching the news.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;">There's a very limited repertoire of TV stations available on a ship, and our news choices were slim: Fox, MSNBC and BBC. For much of our cruise there wasn't much to look at, but then we struck news gold -- the former president was indicted twice and mugshotted once. For once there was actual news to be watched and discussed, and we were impressed by the legal experts assembled to explain the niceties of criminal procedure. Many of them were former federal prosecutors themselves, and I learned a great deal from them. And while I learned, I stitched.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;">As it turned out, I finished two of the four pieces I had brought along. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPJEfmu1FSRNOueqzAFk9VMA16A0g5NnI9PDWlwElBX17kYYhvNzC7SNil-T6y7qGM9uPeFxclMzFBYfaQZfmn4hrWAWdbCXfvxdlpBjstXl-omOwboLiJRIf7zx1JJ9qsN73k6ExjLLb2ScjaCQzlcv1aXRfOmHNsnts9JmJvP2vcuGr8CJ2zjwBGUQ/s3321/IMG_20230731_193713750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3321" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPJEfmu1FSRNOueqzAFk9VMA16A0g5NnI9PDWlwElBX17kYYhvNzC7SNil-T6y7qGM9uPeFxclMzFBYfaQZfmn4hrWAWdbCXfvxdlpBjstXl-omOwboLiJRIf7zx1JJ9qsN73k6ExjLLb2ScjaCQzlcv1aXRfOmHNsnts9JmJvP2vcuGr8CJ2zjwBGUQ/w364-h400/IMG_20230731_193713750.jpg" width="364" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>I was reminded that seed stitch -- the bulk of the top half of this composition, where the stitches go in every direction -- is surprisingly hard to do. If you want your little lines to look random, you have to think several stitches ahead to avoid a lot of parallel pairs. Not so much thinking as to take your mind totally off your music or news, but enough to slow you down considerably compared to running stitches.<p></p><p>I was not thrilled with how this piece turned out. The blanket stitch "railroad tracks" through the middle drew too much attention without being particularly beautiful, and the spirals didn't stand out all that much from their backgrounds. I think the drab neutral background would have been better with a colored thread or at least some colored accents, but I had nothing with me to do that. I was glad when I finished it.</p><p>I'll show you the other pieces in the next post.</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-82204420811671920972023-09-01T14:54:00.000-04:002023-09-01T14:54:01.181-04:00The great trip -- Greenland<p>In this summer of terrible weather, we accomplished our goal of escaping the traditional misery of July and August in the upper South: heat, humidity, air pollution, thunderstorms, power outages. And it worked, as we took a cruise to Canada, Greenland, Iceland, Scotland, Ireland and back again. The weather there was great, with the occasional cloudy or drizzly day but mostly sunny and cool. One day, as we sailed through the scenic fjords, waterfalls and glaciers at the tip of Greenland, I sat on our balcony for several hours, periodically adding more and more clothing until I was wearing every outer garment I had brought along, plus a blanket. Heaven!!</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaT79XFlM1pZxibWiu1LjXnadAxvgrOF_sUCLXvx7qTv3YJAk_cxXmBPYb4O3GVFDDNxtNWxPG2bAqBkt0H74o9wz5aMu8pLBT-is0P8RlGxUrWmcU_ykjdAFCGgzLaIW8d6au6XkSG7iA6-YsmcuuVpnqiR20AQnVVGH0AUEyfLvPH8zTdyLQboIOrA/s5184/DSCN0447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaT79XFlM1pZxibWiu1LjXnadAxvgrOF_sUCLXvx7qTv3YJAk_cxXmBPYb4O3GVFDDNxtNWxPG2bAqBkt0H74o9wz5aMu8pLBT-is0P8RlGxUrWmcU_ykjdAFCGgzLaIW8d6au6XkSG7iA6-YsmcuuVpnqiR20AQnVVGH0AUEyfLvPH8zTdyLQboIOrA/w400-h300/DSCN0447.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of many glaciers in Prins Christian Sund</td></tr></tbody></table>This cruise took us mostly to smaller towns (which is pretty much all there is in the countries we visited) so our days ashore didn't include a lot of excitement. We don't like to spend hours on a bus going on the very expensive shore excursions, and our ambitious hiking days are decades in the past, so our typical routine was to get off the ship, walk around town for a while, find a place to have a beer, and return to the ship. Usually Ken went back first, leaving me to wander about and take photos at leisure.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXi9vEEYOn5GI88v8ZHjaY9AZtNDPq4goaay-RjiDhViRVEjPcB4zzXfeLRA3tT9u4by-GfjsRTlF2BbxXGsjaaG6PiVNVVPXrFAPTkh9ZtzImFhWbYzRME56KftE-aUAcoINwMiJx5Qj_MdNRbVwDLVnSDDd_-0WgKKuameXN0rcDqG-kvGSi6VEZ_eM/s4032/IMG_20230729_130839192_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXi9vEEYOn5GI88v8ZHjaY9AZtNDPq4goaay-RjiDhViRVEjPcB4zzXfeLRA3tT9u4by-GfjsRTlF2BbxXGsjaaG6PiVNVVPXrFAPTkh9ZtzImFhWbYzRME56KftE-aUAcoINwMiJx5Qj_MdNRbVwDLVnSDDd_-0WgKKuameXN0rcDqG-kvGSi6VEZ_eM/w400-h300/IMG_20230729_130839192_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paamiut<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br />The towns in Greenland all have bright and cheery color schemes, the better to show up against snow and clouds, but they are small, isolated and minimal. None are connected by road to anywhere else. I was simultaneously exhilarated by the beautiful surroundings and the depressing realization of how limited life must be, especially for the young people. Yes, the coming of the internet has opened up the world virtually, but physically how many of those kids will ever be able to get anywhere else? Parts of these villages had the same forlorn vibe as Indian reservations we have driven through in the US -- but maybe we're projecting our emotions onto people who don't feel the same way we do.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9pFSNjmpml4ZOpzC5B82D1SDz4JzS-1s-ibXQ72qfgn_vPZtgD02E5whKL6dKCapRRqmrOaJREEMhY0M0Cp1ouJePLX2v_pnyrdlUA4tl4x8Aszc8hJImMU5tdm4a-m0ifcM-PSf3f6I09Is1x1kbUlBB9mtgEEnn-KU0AnetdP8BV1wq2fyNfZOgIw/s5184/DSCN0720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9pFSNjmpml4ZOpzC5B82D1SDz4JzS-1s-ibXQ72qfgn_vPZtgD02E5whKL6dKCapRRqmrOaJREEMhY0M0Cp1ouJePLX2v_pnyrdlUA4tl4x8Aszc8hJImMU5tdm4a-m0ifcM-PSf3f6I09Is1x1kbUlBB9mtgEEnn-KU0AnetdP8BV1wq2fyNfZOgIw/w400-h300/DSCN0720.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a boatful of people from Aappilattoq</td></tr></tbody></table><br />As we cruised past a tiny village, population about 100, a little armada of boats came out to say hello. People loaded up their kids and zipped around the big ship, waving and hollering. Two boats pulled up together so a couple of children could climb over to join their pals, with all the nonchalance of our kids going from one parked car to another. (Nobody wore life jackets and I held my breath while they made the transfer.) Certainly the best entertainment of the day for the locals, and I wondered if they do this every time a cruise ship passes.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWd8HX2hhlmadI06DD4Yw0r37lmN_Qk0kKIt9ab14FCIyehkeW36qEwIGDoh_KYl4V8TCSfugkB1JbACF9LwNjHidy56oPDCgr5oJvx7QEssfHOmxbLD57gIN86mdi2wdY2WTYzbj-QMM-v-1gglpS3_fA-mRKR7WQexhw-rnfC_lSWAbezQvuCDPKrZY/s4032/IMG_20230730_145829959_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWd8HX2hhlmadI06DD4Yw0r37lmN_Qk0kKIt9ab14FCIyehkeW36qEwIGDoh_KYl4V8TCSfugkB1JbACF9LwNjHidy56oPDCgr5oJvx7QEssfHOmxbLD57gIN86mdi2wdY2WTYzbj-QMM-v-1gglpS3_fA-mRKR7WQexhw-rnfC_lSWAbezQvuCDPKrZY/w400-h300/IMG_20230730_145829959_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nanortalik</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I felt twinges of guilt as I wandered about and snapped the boats, fishing equipment and containers, the older and more weatherbeaten the better -- was I being a rude tourist/voyeur? Yes, there were shiny new boats by the docks, but the beat-up old ones make much better pictures. Yes, I examined my guilt but then I took more pictures. Mea culpa.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6h2XHYngF4Q_XnHd2B8gPVTRzO03qy5egCOocUnraVk5eocRrxQOAnCH5DJ86NnDvhh9Cl6TQcDuG_my-2hdLHkXIbhroYdYzdIZOZWI6h5DEcLht0m0fEmEE2KcdY1GDKEXWuiOGmLp-xi2zcK_kZCoYL4CJ5PvahtWBHi2I0sbyNSw4H75t2GUFaE/s4032/IMG_20230819_141209736_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6h2XHYngF4Q_XnHd2B8gPVTRzO03qy5egCOocUnraVk5eocRrxQOAnCH5DJ86NnDvhh9Cl6TQcDuG_my-2hdLHkXIbhroYdYzdIZOZWI6h5DEcLht0m0fEmEE2KcdY1GDKEXWuiOGmLp-xi2zcK_kZCoYL4CJ5PvahtWBHi2I0sbyNSw4H75t2GUFaE/w300-h400/IMG_20230819_141209736_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Qaqortoq</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>As you can see from the photos, there is junk lying around, as in any working environment, but the streets are clean, the houses are bright, the little kids are happy, flowers are everywhere, there is little graffiti to be seen, and the air is probably purer than I've ever breathed at home. </p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IHw-bTpwV1OtvGDje3n8JwZ-s0AT9kgw1_iS2sgCUd49pq7HyEJd_vh72HYvL0fVmgBql4XLuA5Un8e6N8IbF5yyy-kbv2aslM97Ese4XKu2v4zBSKsVtP8kpU6h8XltFy5l3O-h_L_MUfVwvZC_i8faoH7X6amgnG0DU9esABe5F_XWEpXF8brp4WE/s4032/IMG_20230729_131029550_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IHw-bTpwV1OtvGDje3n8JwZ-s0AT9kgw1_iS2sgCUd49pq7HyEJd_vh72HYvL0fVmgBql4XLuA5Un8e6N8IbF5yyy-kbv2aslM97Ese4XKu2v4zBSKsVtP8kpU6h8XltFy5l3O-h_L_MUfVwvZC_i8faoH7X6amgnG0DU9esABe5F_XWEpXF8brp4WE/w400-h300/IMG_20230729_131029550_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paamiut<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />We've been in Greenland once before, many years ago, and I fell in love with it. It was such a thrill to go back again, this trip blessed with far better weather than we had the first time. Perhaps it's within the realm of possibility that I could even go there again....</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-18620863973522576192023-08-08T08:08:00.002-04:002023-10-24T21:16:19.078-04:00At sea again <p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92XvMAMjwTJk_31CIo5MpeMmAY2QqzCpTDBkz8zXCJqwFGG6YeGwuyxlQgqi5UjyQchoWvdrYEsFE88JVESWY1lxwCbDBlbu9vyUFygbmk2eLHCteP8scGzgyewoYJPXbVQjIYdY3gXkOMofkDvCcYdQx3dOZiip-FNXw7eRilq79TwRhaaBd_x9uZHQ/s4032/IMG_20230729_130844374_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92XvMAMjwTJk_31CIo5MpeMmAY2QqzCpTDBkz8zXCJqwFGG6YeGwuyxlQgqi5UjyQchoWvdrYEsFE88JVESWY1lxwCbDBlbu9vyUFygbmk2eLHCteP8scGzgyewoYJPXbVQjIYdY3gXkOMofkDvCcYdQx3dOZiip-FNXw7eRilq79TwRhaaBd_x9uZHQ/w400-h300/IMG_20230729_130844374_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nanortalik, Greenland </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivk_l-1EIMZamyjfw0rNzscLi__HfcTMhaHMR2GHB55tnR2xNrNaP8X8-gT32v3PRGscJ4d8q9VG34uMQtD0bI-QIGjMvTX_rMI3rFnGDlW055AGewQ6xPSKuuMTL-hbTsUlEdlZ_vl_Y6DqEIydyOUcEQNthpHfNmZ-Yx1_UIDX5wcRYd7_A6SmC6iAE/s4032/IMG_20230731_122728784_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivk_l-1EIMZamyjfw0rNzscLi__HfcTMhaHMR2GHB55tnR2xNrNaP8X8-gT32v3PRGscJ4d8q9VG34uMQtD0bI-QIGjMvTX_rMI3rFnGDlW055AGewQ6xPSKuuMTL-hbTsUlEdlZ_vl_Y6DqEIydyOUcEQNthpHfNmZ-Yx1_UIDX5wcRYd7_A6SmC6iAE/w400-h300/IMG_20230731_122728784_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prins Christian Sund, Greenland </td></tr></tbody></table><br />For 50 years we've sweltered through Louisville summers and asked ourselves why we don't go somewhere cold for July and August. This year we finally did it, and set off for a cruise to Canada, Greenland, Iceland, Scotland and other cool climes. We're in Rotterdam today at the halfway point, and will head home on pretty much the same route.<p></p><p>You can keep your sunny beaches, I am drawn to the cold places. And we're getting our fill on this trip!</p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-64738646272632251932023-07-26T17:33:00.012-04:002023-07-26T17:33:00.173-04:00Some beads and a nostalgia trip<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6efC27epeR_7sS4oFqGSMNootUCYG9D1OoQswqMTnkSJ9XUpKLV1jY6zKAKpqK6YOedMTahr1VIjAjev5U2zx7HHwvZBYQvsMK1Rj9xeuZfUvUnrePpQ8UH00-vagRgbqqnTTcdstJ8cUlxbr-dcsKA8W2c3lNWDgdkerkyTT7QUzJAi5_sg20Fb5y0/s2297/IMG_20230714_184104110_HDR~2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2297" data-original-width="1908" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6efC27epeR_7sS4oFqGSMNootUCYG9D1OoQswqMTnkSJ9XUpKLV1jY6zKAKpqK6YOedMTahr1VIjAjev5U2zx7HHwvZBYQvsMK1Rj9xeuZfUvUnrePpQ8UH00-vagRgbqqnTTcdstJ8cUlxbr-dcsKA8W2c3lNWDgdkerkyTT7QUzJAi5_sg20Fb5y0/w333-h400/IMG_20230714_184104110_HDR~2.jpg" width="333" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">daily stitching July 14</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A couple of days ago I wanted to add some beads to my daily stitching, and had the idea to make them stand up in a tower instead of just lie there on the fabric. And as I started sewing them on, I thought of Sandy Snowden. Sandy was one of my good internet friends whom I never got the pleasure of meeting in person, although other in-person friends of mine were also in-person friends of hers. </p><p>Sandy lived in England and was an avid garment sewist as well as a lover of quilts and hand stitching and an enthusiastic blogger. Sadly, she died in 2020 but her husband has thoughtfully <a href="http://sandysnowden.blogspot.com/">left her blog online</a>, and that allowed me to indulge in an hour of nostalgia.</p><p>In 2019 Sandy did a daily art project involving beads, 24,000 of them, to commemorate 24,000 Christians in India who were physically attacked in the previous year because of their faith. She wrote, "I wanted to see just how many 24,000 was." </p><p>Each day for 300 days she sewed on 80 beads, sometimes in towers (standing straight up from the fabric, attached at only one end of the queue) and sometimes in loops (attached at both ends, standing up like an inchworm). She finished the year by adding words around the edges of the composition.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQ3pcQdbog7TVo5Vpzkr2il10zycVcKP8m-p5PaixN9eamGXGcV0OLNN_JvHF8cDNeF6mpXXnIPJQ6BumSZp6HFdcd3_pEFb-yQaJezbSZ0mkPSzFXsiAaSRVY_TZyXdivqjB2i957MsCV1vnXesK-OXeXTI6R_hZFQaE_K4qwQ3dWi5N_fzrGI9cbQs/s320/sandy%20snowden.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQ3pcQdbog7TVo5Vpzkr2il10zycVcKP8m-p5PaixN9eamGXGcV0OLNN_JvHF8cDNeF6mpXXnIPJQ6BumSZp6HFdcd3_pEFb-yQaJezbSZ0mkPSzFXsiAaSRVY_TZyXdivqjB2i957MsCV1vnXesK-OXeXTI6R_hZFQaE_K4qwQ3dWi5N_fzrGI9cbQs/w278-h320/sandy%20snowden.jpeg" width="278" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandy's finished project</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Sandy put a small sequin underneath each bead tower, for a bit more structural stability, but unless I happen to find my stash of sequins in the very near future, I'm going to do my own beads without that step.<br /><br /></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwURDA6v5JyPIQqDwSlIFawLjOeIOZuCscI5uteU58_cOup-P64Ejom8wFZiJoI5q5oaD7Y5WL_5Vvbiho8pkoWYaD7DpZrDv8VSUbeu4cKiFfnuvFcNlJUcQJm9glN1g_nzcwJA_ze9yrosIySUGEVl1E_ENJzVxvr8gMOLTGzgpZfm7fw3pp5YcqdGU/s320/sandy%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="320" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwURDA6v5JyPIQqDwSlIFawLjOeIOZuCscI5uteU58_cOup-P64Ejom8wFZiJoI5q5oaD7Y5WL_5Vvbiho8pkoWYaD7DpZrDv8VSUbeu4cKiFfnuvFcNlJUcQJm9glN1g_nzcwJA_ze9yrosIySUGEVl1E_ENJzVxvr8gMOLTGzgpZfm7fw3pp5YcqdGU/w320-h305/sandy%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandy's project in mid-July 2019<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>As an aficionada of daily art, I have always enjoyed it when one of my internet friends embarks on a daily project, and I follow along closely during the year. Going back through Sandy's old posts that year, I came across my own comments many times, which made me happy that I had been able to stay in such close touch with her.</p><p>I don't know how long I will keep stitching bead towers in my own daily project this year, but I'll be thinking about Sandy while I do it, and about how the internet has allowed us to make connections and friends across the continents whom we would have probably never met in real life.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlN8DKPl_brkvDq2kcF_z4JiNHjoPkI1EAOWxXZ2NuiO-fKop5CLDQQh8DU0zs87ziSh-BV48m12g1nnDhJ1Jl8PbKJ6o1ljBFefK_8CqzPQ0E22t1u21UC8Da4X8KTyyzMbSs84nyO3VY5HgWfg_INCN2PGh_lruhNxqPZDA_8iReFHDAClNCa30f-M/s2449/IMG_20230715_121911141_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1892" data-original-width="2449" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlN8DKPl_brkvDq2kcF_z4JiNHjoPkI1EAOWxXZ2NuiO-fKop5CLDQQh8DU0zs87ziSh-BV48m12g1nnDhJ1Jl8PbKJ6o1ljBFefK_8CqzPQ0E22t1u21UC8Da4X8KTyyzMbSs84nyO3VY5HgWfg_INCN2PGh_lruhNxqPZDA_8iReFHDAClNCa30f-M/w400-h309/IMG_20230715_121911141_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">daily stitching July 15</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6EISN-zA4gpjbiN__7YNxI0sen2gQgzUSoq3EYRqrBCCBf5di7z7z7Qt2MlPUp7J7mWUtXbLeukxOkqrtPoYAZJosSb-SSnn62ah0CLDQShsHJYT3obaMREX16e4C2O2dUYfODGzg441Bmmxzl9luN3D6D83Wt2T2YwjOWmmSeH7-Av8F2yyux69Yrk/s1794/IMG_20230716_142954512_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1374" data-original-width="1794" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6EISN-zA4gpjbiN__7YNxI0sen2gQgzUSoq3EYRqrBCCBf5di7z7z7Qt2MlPUp7J7mWUtXbLeukxOkqrtPoYAZJosSb-SSnn62ah0CLDQShsHJYT3obaMREX16e4C2O2dUYfODGzg441Bmmxzl9luN3D6D83Wt2T2YwjOWmmSeH7-Av8F2yyux69Yrk/w400-h306/IMG_20230716_142954512_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">daily stitching July 16</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3dvPTnpyeUKUiIiPQCa6VQ72Odm04lUlgJxr-uAMkLCaBkrHpusI-dwUKyeLlWrH3SwXeFIXVQqUx-xu0u2ODIRJDtu1_7nviU1aIstAVvhmn6JLucXrPO5UroW8fZCskbgK0-o_ONI-KF67m6IUXZp4kw1QwAdKsBpL62vz24VgXw3E4DO2Wxb3cotQ/s2046/IMG_20230718_143056738_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1657" data-original-width="2046" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3dvPTnpyeUKUiIiPQCa6VQ72Odm04lUlgJxr-uAMkLCaBkrHpusI-dwUKyeLlWrH3SwXeFIXVQqUx-xu0u2ODIRJDtu1_7nviU1aIstAVvhmn6JLucXrPO5UroW8fZCskbgK0-o_ONI-KF67m6IUXZp4kw1QwAdKsBpL62vz24VgXw3E4DO2Wxb3cotQ/w400-h324/IMG_20230718_143056738_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">daily stitching July 18</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-85798764871209000502023-07-10T17:24:00.008-04:002023-07-11T10:31:56.038-04:00Someone else's trash becomes my treasure<p>Last year my good friend moved to Atlanta, and realized that she owned a whole lot of stuff that she didn't want to take with her. So she held an open house of sorts, in which friends were encouraged to take home anything in two big upstairs rooms. I of course could not resist, and found all sorts of treasures, including but hardly limited to a guillotine blade paper cutter and a 1950 edition of Webster's New International Dictionary. I've been using the paper cutter for myriad projects, and cutting up the dictionary for art.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUSk9bPVdeobolbKBI8FsNLkKU9fpIxS0lM7qLPMdnyc4eAu9qckjwca_aRy5EPt8j8pNMCZAxvql6PpDLt1kZ4xqeCPgIBXJOQBqsnT1tLWrKGjByLookpJFiIAWBt2S324iCO1HsQwsN4eg4MFiQctlpfh_3M0eaJ2KjmJqCR9D9V8R7AcRb0MLpUw/s7681/composite.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2993" data-original-width="7681" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUSk9bPVdeobolbKBI8FsNLkKU9fpIxS0lM7qLPMdnyc4eAu9qckjwca_aRy5EPt8j8pNMCZAxvql6PpDLt1kZ4xqeCPgIBXJOQBqsnT1tLWrKGjByLookpJFiIAWBt2S324iCO1HsQwsN4eg4MFiQctlpfh_3M0eaJ2KjmJqCR9D9V8R7AcRb0MLpUw/w400-h156/composite.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>But today I want to talk about a special find: a huge box full of the ribbons and medals that my friend's daughter won in a long and successful swimming career, spanning many years from childhood through high school. The minute I saw them I knew they were perfect fodder to be turned into "postage stamps" for a grid quilt.<p></p><p>The ribbons were two inches wide, with woven selvages, already a bit stiff with some kind of sizing, but I backed them with nonwoven polypropylene for a little more substance. As soon as the backing was sewed to the ribbons, I sliced them into squares with a pinked-edge rotary blade, and then continued with many more rows of stitching in different colors. There was no fraying or raveling (a big improvement over previous postage stamp projects) and the gold letters and pictures sparkle when the light hits them right. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7X_YBp2ZgEySvtsEIBWUvtjisDsTzzqzLU-FublU98D0zmmy77fH-ACknsoN-MwitW0sYgWWWPJU8JdsJvXqdnKmuk4tJGAnky180xiwMlAGc4AyvghDfwDlYRQ39jlD1vA6IEJ4ZvSN4_TyC5T3cf1WTmoDiytsoRAAq34CNhv6mt4e9c_FmNzOkyWs/s4032/IMG_20220809_162735520.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7X_YBp2ZgEySvtsEIBWUvtjisDsTzzqzLU-FublU98D0zmmy77fH-ACknsoN-MwitW0sYgWWWPJU8JdsJvXqdnKmuk4tJGAnky180xiwMlAGc4AyvghDfwDlYRQ39jlD1vA6IEJ4ZvSN4_TyC5T3cf1WTmoDiytsoRAAq34CNhv6mt4e9c_FmNzOkyWs/w400-h300/IMG_20220809_162735520.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I watched a great deal of trash TV last August while mindlessly feeding hundreds and hundreds of squares through the sewing machine, and eventually counted and bagged all the finished squares and stashed them away in a big shoebox.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi475f9iCJ4MNJ0GFNqottTJY9ZivOVdT4RU41kuXWVTNoaAe_xQWCsrV6_RWSZ9Jm8Hh_20QWVCaicN-UJjY0-4zhQ8tbRso3NyWKFqHZS-hScGyrC69Dm5En2P7h8vxVAHA4UhLxswk9NQgy8mXNu7n2wWMnH_0tqIP-_FTDrJDII9QxkD7NVOCK_Sng/s4032/IMG_20220817_180648306.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi475f9iCJ4MNJ0GFNqottTJY9ZivOVdT4RU41kuXWVTNoaAe_xQWCsrV6_RWSZ9Jm8Hh_20QWVCaicN-UJjY0-4zhQ8tbRso3NyWKFqHZS-hScGyrC69Dm5En2P7h8vxVAHA4UhLxswk9NQgy8mXNu7n2wWMnH_0tqIP-_FTDrJDII9QxkD7NVOCK_Sng/w400-h300/IMG_20220817_180648306.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDH63bWllVqIYLsvKZJAuO6yUg5Wq0WckWn7SwQVQF5-NwYjfNgpgQtxWQOH3Y9rlc_IC3gkbNkVzEC06EPiJf7F1PB531SgFGuq9dALqwtNhDsyVTgvqIhD0mUUj9LZlvUq4J-Vk3SyA6xARvi8lNiFrdUhzxMSaW51W58mLTkVjw1fv2y9GIC6Lde8/s4032/IMG_20220817_180709592.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDH63bWllVqIYLsvKZJAuO6yUg5Wq0WckWn7SwQVQF5-NwYjfNgpgQtxWQOH3Y9rlc_IC3gkbNkVzEC06EPiJf7F1PB531SgFGuq9dALqwtNhDsyVTgvqIhD0mUUj9LZlvUq4J-Vk3SyA6xARvi8lNiFrdUhzxMSaW51W58mLTkVjw1fv2y9GIC6Lde8/w400-h300/IMG_20220817_180709592.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I pulled the shoebox out again in April and started sewing the squares together into a grid. Having learned from experience that the larger the quilt, the more tedious it is to sew it together, I decided to make three separate panels and hang them as a tryptych. It was so easy to put these smaller panels together that I zipped through the final assembly stage in less than a week.<p></p><p>And now the finished quilt -- "Competition" -- is hanging in the 20th Anniversary Show at PYRO Gallery. I think it looks great, and it was probably the most painless major piece that I have ever made! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdBGJwm9oGaLb8PZGnAJ1Pu_k54HQOv8u-_Gw4ayxXYL_1t5NKvSs5ntsRmiWWpttsMtrRBwsHVKincwtUP5uOIMsSDNKkFkweh9tFmg8XjOYZ5QULepTceSV3k9B-pUkuL-ylhMABMv2iegfquKRGaQSzBAYqhM1e3ncJIZ6mHqmxqtQeJxo8SolUuU/s4032/IMG_20230630_155551205.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdBGJwm9oGaLb8PZGnAJ1Pu_k54HQOv8u-_Gw4ayxXYL_1t5NKvSs5ntsRmiWWpttsMtrRBwsHVKincwtUP5uOIMsSDNKkFkweh9tFmg8XjOYZ5QULepTceSV3k9B-pUkuL-ylhMABMv2iegfquKRGaQSzBAYqhM1e3ncJIZ6mHqmxqtQeJxo8SolUuU/w400-h300/IMG_20230630_155551205.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13WrmAZvXxkgrrCA4zD5LiBgh0E7dDV2sSpzbSCw1y5sK9L_GixtYMIZZtHQP7G9OQFedb9NDgbWfOgOHHMvi1hEzwAv9ohLCadLjuSiEvW52PFX6I3KKzNHNER0q-zxeuzo1cZ17xnl1WKfVfRVqKbezFVIYSU7RaC4rtBF4bnKWbIatjSrFt5SjAwI/s4032/IMG_20230630_155820435.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13WrmAZvXxkgrrCA4zD5LiBgh0E7dDV2sSpzbSCw1y5sK9L_GixtYMIZZtHQP7G9OQFedb9NDgbWfOgOHHMvi1hEzwAv9ohLCadLjuSiEvW52PFX6I3KKzNHNER0q-zxeuzo1cZ17xnl1WKfVfRVqKbezFVIYSU7RaC4rtBF4bnKWbIatjSrFt5SjAwI/w400-h300/IMG_20230630_155820435.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><br /><br /></p><p> </p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-17789725991739655782023-06-21T16:51:00.001-04:002023-06-23T21:42:24.363-04:00Blast from the past<p>My friend-since-graduate-school sent me an email the other day with a photo of a quilt:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihik8FGZX1pm9JFGE_acIo02XhvzGm0AYVjxGxE81J59qum9wboaE6zj6rJDrV_oAM3gyQ7qvngIlrG556q27tSYpMbCpP2xzvKW1J5uk1hmaBkTTHmIBlbj8qtoU5jZtorliatY7sucW2CJcB3hMSxqUV5FpbBN6OQj4azyAAOve__ppSCh4von_MOms/s640/Kimo.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihik8FGZX1pm9JFGE_acIo02XhvzGm0AYVjxGxE81J59qum9wboaE6zj6rJDrV_oAM3gyQ7qvngIlrG556q27tSYpMbCpP2xzvKW1J5uk1hmaBkTTHmIBlbj8qtoU5jZtorliatY7sucW2CJcB3hMSxqUV5FpbBN6OQj4azyAAOve__ppSCh4von_MOms/w300-h400/Kimo.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I made this quilt 50 years ago for her son Kimo, who is about to have his big birthday. It's obviously still in circulation in the household, perhaps used by one of his kids. <p></p><p>I had never taken a picture before I mailed it off, and I am thrilled to see it again. I remember the actual design and construction, and how I struggled to make it. I had cut out the beautiful curvy motif, turned under the edges and pinned it carefully to the background. But when I started to sew, it slithered around and thus became all puffy and bulgy.</p><p>With hardly any quilting to hold things in place, the bulges have survived the decades. So have the vivid colors, since the fabric was largely polyester (that's pretty much all we had in the early 70s). </p><p>For me, the photo is a reminder of how little I knew about quiltmaking in those days -- and no wonder, because I was totally self-taught, without benefit of the myriad books, magazines, workshops, quilt shops and quilt guilds that later turned quilting into an easily-accessed industry. Fortunately, I have learned many things since then, and not just about quilts!</p><p>The photo also reminds me of my enduring love for the curvy shapes that I stole from Henri Matisse. You probably know about how the great artist, having lost almost all his sight, turned to scissors and paper when he could no longer paint. He cut these shapes, along with dancers and stars, and made a body of work that is stunning in its simplicity and power.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmZ1eGHep3uvJyn77ojYl38J6PqpT5lJhGIfKLeFPZKdVBv3QqB2lrQ_qhTiFUu3YVI_tz9wgpecQp06eJti2zGkFwdjexcpazgb8Gj8ug2py2XMq5VeN_uufw6U4c8hT8KVw-jpqbOZtcPZUMEZG0eYKtMUR8ku4F8y95loBWdaclRPCm7D-bvnovPE/s808/matisse.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="808" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmZ1eGHep3uvJyn77ojYl38J6PqpT5lJhGIfKLeFPZKdVBv3QqB2lrQ_qhTiFUu3YVI_tz9wgpecQp06eJti2zGkFwdjexcpazgb8Gj8ug2py2XMq5VeN_uufw6U4c8hT8KVw-jpqbOZtcPZUMEZG0eYKtMUR8ku4F8y95loBWdaclRPCm7D-bvnovPE/w400-h316/matisse.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henri Matisse, The Sheaf</td></tr></tbody></table>Kimo's quilt was the first time I had used this motif, but it would certainly not be the last. Years later when I learned how to do free-motion quilting, I used this same curvy rhythm to fill space. I called this pattern "Matisse" and have taught it to many students. <p></p><p>Sometimes I make little motifs in rows.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VlZl3XJZ9SPC_wDH9wITAwH6PBJUx3LqvXSICF8jJNsFuZqv9tzGYrS7XTEFhwdnd44-aaNn-984ZH460DCySw0Zhom4UljmUBnvJK90u8dUpGgIFzb-sqNjdkAZK4KTRzqIofIBC2-CHfepxWaSH3qNrrmsEMr5rFwMk71ZiOE4GPNHrXO9AaCAtRI/s3459/3.16.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="3459" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VlZl3XJZ9SPC_wDH9wITAwH6PBJUx3LqvXSICF8jJNsFuZqv9tzGYrS7XTEFhwdnd44-aaNn-984ZH460DCySw0Zhom4UljmUBnvJK90u8dUpGgIFzb-sqNjdkAZK4KTRzqIofIBC2-CHfepxWaSH3qNrrmsEMr5rFwMk71ZiOE4GPNHrXO9AaCAtRI/w400-h85/3.16.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Sometimes I let the curves sprawl across large areas. <p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5C3NUfZJ7ZMau0aMVNofxtStz0ier95a9xVA1be1T4wAPBhm0kxQw5XduMFNjQPi8kT8kpNYgoMqLrSecQPOi-sUaJpB8Fpq9qy3W0MPU4SX4pkk_FAUT3ivvOXbps7xPWfdK9mrZXJc1hu_gF9o05llssMbYMCVNoaE_Ep4kQhlvyuWIY8HziOfPRwc/s4032/IMG_20230621_133055329.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5C3NUfZJ7ZMau0aMVNofxtStz0ier95a9xVA1be1T4wAPBhm0kxQw5XduMFNjQPi8kT8kpNYgoMqLrSecQPOi-sUaJpB8Fpq9qy3W0MPU4SX4pkk_FAUT3ivvOXbps7xPWfdK9mrZXJc1hu_gF9o05llssMbYMCVNoaE_Ep4kQhlvyuWIY8HziOfPRwc/w400-h300/IMG_20230621_133055329.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Just looking at the photos makes me want to go down in the studio and sew Matisse curves onto something!<p></p><p><br /><br /></p><p><br /> </p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-73748025169491615292023-04-21T21:17:00.004-04:002023-04-21T21:17:23.923-04:00More daily Joanne<p>I wrote last week about my daily art project for this year, and showed you several collages that depended on the prints in my friend Joanne's leftovers. My task in working with these strong patterns is mainly to find a few that want to play together, then put them together and stand back. On the other end of the spectrum are the pieces that I make on solid color fabrics, or those with minimal patterning. Those generally serve as the base for more elaborate stitching or applique.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKysyBilxN_nxTOCIU1IL6dWritXnwuxYgnnyPraGFYNUSPWw4SvD302ZTr0HTNqBc5ykOLBkxCN1karbNzzvWx_6UUKiqYDzt9vbrdtJChH7PUR8p0Zf71fvxykGyKNvHNQRoP9oO-bjhoiPG81q8t-lno841dLyUwwzqQ70uG1_pL_aVz4uq-9a/s2670/IMG_20230210_135702786_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2670" data-original-width="2096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKysyBilxN_nxTOCIU1IL6dWritXnwuxYgnnyPraGFYNUSPWw4SvD302ZTr0HTNqBc5ykOLBkxCN1karbNzzvWx_6UUKiqYDzt9vbrdtJChH7PUR8p0Zf71fvxykGyKNvHNQRoP9oO-bjhoiPG81q8t-lno841dLyUwwzqQ70uG1_pL_aVz4uq-9a/w314-h400/IMG_20230210_135702786_HDR.jpg" width="314" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mostly blanket stitch, plus an appliqued moon</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kMdh_-I1Rv5Dg-N2IZsIRY_J2l-w0q9V27Pm6TpLFRQR-q_1UT_0piulc02a89tuoYqluVZkUjQHm4EeVEpDlsN0wEY8rH8maglfFR0vLOpdPtByjnNM2chmtB207FXNx9DPK9dA_YEVDsswclETOpPX8iSD-oP1IzUHMETpDttMWQtOiwJABNXe/s2784/IMG_20230220_230924843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2784" data-original-width="2175" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kMdh_-I1Rv5Dg-N2IZsIRY_J2l-w0q9V27Pm6TpLFRQR-q_1UT_0piulc02a89tuoYqluVZkUjQHm4EeVEpDlsN0wEY8rH8maglfFR0vLOpdPtByjnNM2chmtB207FXNx9DPK9dA_YEVDsswclETOpPX8iSD-oP1IzUHMETpDttMWQtOiwJABNXe/w313-h400/IMG_20230220_230924843.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cretan stitch and a few beads</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4rjvPw41gDWcxeHYVT66wHEMt5b_haYAGqkZybuwdqelaGGOgL1NI8Cp_ezIC4dmu5insti0oR7iA3uXqnBBKXSc8aDRq8FVfUECOT5d9hEll-5-ItnBgZ1Pue8rb9STr37cJbAcftDk29MSylujbBCTtMUGsENrItlQFlPtYFGbyv1tP5FsxKqp/s3039/IMG_20230313_195806111_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3039" data-original-width="2739" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4rjvPw41gDWcxeHYVT66wHEMt5b_haYAGqkZybuwdqelaGGOgL1NI8Cp_ezIC4dmu5insti0oR7iA3uXqnBBKXSc8aDRq8FVfUECOT5d9hEll-5-ItnBgZ1Pue8rb9STr37cJbAcftDk29MSylujbBCTtMUGsENrItlQFlPtYFGbyv1tP5FsxKqp/w360-h400/IMG_20230313_195806111_HDR.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">machine appliqued tiny trees, about 3/4" from ground to tip</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqlbnjRhpqK0XNEEhTnTgN5L41pn41QKWHZu9hrLYBJuER6xiKKoANmw0LgS0twKX9fAdlA-7DF8xFcNo4hYnGtWA1k5b5UrJtx_vsrcgA18LxDpYSXxl1KNFIl6TvJQomFYZ7V92CN89nHdj17xwD3J3nU7jFlJTpYp9kEujQTQPAvGMaGkvfZXX/s4032/IMG_20230405_171009424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqlbnjRhpqK0XNEEhTnTgN5L41pn41QKWHZu9hrLYBJuER6xiKKoANmw0LgS0twKX9fAdlA-7DF8xFcNo4hYnGtWA1k5b5UrJtx_vsrcgA18LxDpYSXxl1KNFIl6TvJQomFYZ7V92CN89nHdj17xwD3J3nU7jFlJTpYp9kEujQTQPAvGMaGkvfZXX/w400-h300/IMG_20230405_171009424.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stacked running stitches make mandalas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUl1jX2eeObee2hBTyfPqvdZESGg4hYJLVORnA4yiefgq7hA1feTc9Yt3yFoeWXfdWlIHbg2qYU3A6ijRROsfpr5cfylc8cGKPn5kwNeBNXP-1IjIBbBvulENbY4BpsK8cvfc2u50ugCw40nihOtksq4O0rDCB-tHwMR49OL0w0ne-qIJTPeKHcLJg/s2643/IMG_20230305_154018874_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2590" data-original-width="2643" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUl1jX2eeObee2hBTyfPqvdZESGg4hYJLVORnA4yiefgq7hA1feTc9Yt3yFoeWXfdWlIHbg2qYU3A6ijRROsfpr5cfylc8cGKPn5kwNeBNXP-1IjIBbBvulENbY4BpsK8cvfc2u50ugCw40nihOtksq4O0rDCB-tHwMR49OL0w0ne-qIJTPeKHcLJg/w400-h393/IMG_20230305_154018874_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more stacked running stitches</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-36801719928976932862023-04-12T22:33:00.005-04:002023-04-12T22:33:42.588-04:00Daily Joanne update<p>I told you several weeks ago about my daily art project for this year: to make a small stitched collage using fabrics that I scored from my long-time art pal Joanne Weis. She cleaned out her huge stash of fabrics that she had dyed and surface-designed over two decades of making fiber art, and I brought home two huge garbage bags full. I have been reveling in the huge array of different fibers, colors, patterns and techniques that she used to create wonderful fabrics.</p><p>Most of her fabrics have some kind of design printed or painted on top of a dyed base. My challenge is to add enough of my own work on top so that it stops being Joanne's work and starts being Kathy's. Usually that has been stitching, mostly by hand but occasionally by machine. Sometimes I meld bits from several different fabrics and try to put them together into a single cohesive composition, unified by stitching.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDy8cuifQEwBsDuMdkO0ty69PFOgxuOaFYc-fv_c-jnRMJgO_sNVTAqsOwcQZjDDlbHlYdHaZoGFWld2PLMSkpHv5iZA7-e6qE16EdT_398onOn1hEpsAnO_afPnmKL1hdoBW_cxy4ZHSFPRm-uryhslmSMp2E1IwDlVVVb-wAISyFYxA-iiGi_I4_/s3268/IMG_20230410_181423974_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3268" data-original-width="2809" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDy8cuifQEwBsDuMdkO0ty69PFOgxuOaFYc-fv_c-jnRMJgO_sNVTAqsOwcQZjDDlbHlYdHaZoGFWld2PLMSkpHv5iZA7-e6qE16EdT_398onOn1hEpsAnO_afPnmKL1hdoBW_cxy4ZHSFPRm-uryhslmSMp2E1IwDlVVVb-wAISyFYxA-iiGi_I4_/w344-h400/IMG_20230410_181423974_HDR.jpg" width="344" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This collage started with two different pieces from the Joanne bags: the red-white-brown print on top, and the coral-blue on the bottom. Joanne had laminated the green paper on top of the red print. I added two strips of off-white to cover the join between the two prints, and two more to provide interest in boring parts of the red print. Then I added lots of cross stitch in a few different threads. I was particularly enamored of the messy torn edge on the bottom of the coral, and took pains to keep it intact.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmhjWwqiu-rgA7XgrPTOXyfXXjqRjo49xVdC0yalp1z5Ao8tnW6P7gbGMHuvF-fwMqlup3-3FTZNYOtKqvvigdvGTaIBGTf4ggCfMI9CBs-oXrPAlrx9mDX8HdE8FMkYJBu7NnGpVmT-bcg7zXOJIFXZAPXvidSmlb0PZ7LZ2K7Fz2CQR7L5Aer14/s3130/IMG_20230406_154212739_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2639" data-original-width="3130" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmhjWwqiu-rgA7XgrPTOXyfXXjqRjo49xVdC0yalp1z5Ao8tnW6P7gbGMHuvF-fwMqlup3-3FTZNYOtKqvvigdvGTaIBGTf4ggCfMI9CBs-oXrPAlrx9mDX8HdE8FMkYJBu7NnGpVmT-bcg7zXOJIFXZAPXvidSmlb0PZ7LZ2K7Fz2CQR7L5Aer14/w400-h338/IMG_20230406_154212739_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>This one started with a small bit cut from a sample that Joanne had already collaged onto the gold fabric at left, adding the green and white papers and a lot of yellow machine stitching. I added a piece of the same coral-blue print that I used in the composition above, and tied it together with a strip of painted white paper. I added machine stitching in a dark teal to pick up the blue of the coral print, and more stitching in yellow (which doesn't exactly match the original, but I think I'm the only one who will ever notice that).<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtFxQ4i8R1ZwFV2kys15idbPXPCQcsHZx2xHeJsdxLHYpPdDxwGeadow4ZCWSCMBvgZOJnYTulTGb2QKYsI3I0jv0FT2gTNwYi0sdYxzR8Jyhg4Sbvymeco61HYTFmvtommwZuZvlXJepGfbO1jlddGVGE7EXg4RLv8iythTnL5DzHsbn5oOH19-s/s3596/IMG_20230409_151201714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2699" data-original-width="3596" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtFxQ4i8R1ZwFV2kys15idbPXPCQcsHZx2xHeJsdxLHYpPdDxwGeadow4ZCWSCMBvgZOJnYTulTGb2QKYsI3I0jv0FT2gTNwYi0sdYxzR8Jyhg4Sbvymeco61HYTFmvtommwZuZvlXJepGfbO1jlddGVGE7EXg4RLv8iythTnL5DzHsbn5oOH19-s/w400-h300/IMG_20230409_151201714.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>This one started with a bit of fabric painted in yellow, pale turquoise and white. I found some bits of blue that were left over from previous daily collages (I am scrupulously throwing away nothing of Joanne's stuff, because ever the tiniest piece may find a place in a subsequent collage). I had torn 1/4 inch strips of the green sateen a couple of weeks ago, but didn't use all of it, so they got stitched on top. I mounted the little collage on black (I was delighted to find about a half yard of plain black in the garbage bags, because sometimes you just need a plain fabric as a background or support). Then I machine stitched curvy leaf shapes to hold the whole thing together.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll show you more of my daily collages in another post or two!</div><div><div><p><br /></p></div></div>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-76139022277877859002023-03-27T13:58:00.000-04:002023-03-27T13:58:12.749-04:00The juror speaks... part 1<p>Twenty years ago, I was one of a group of four quiltmaker/artists who helped start Form, Not Function: Quilt Art at the Carnegie, a juried show that has grown into one of the highly regarded venues in the US. As a nod to old times, they asked me to serve as a juror again this year.</p><p>A lot has changed since those early years when we juried from slides, and then to digital images submitted on disk. Now it's done through CaFE, an online platform that serves many of the big shows. I've ranted several times in the past about my frustrations with CaFE as a show entrant, but never had a chance until now to be frustrated with it as a juror. </p><p>Because I didn't wrestle with this particular setup as an entrant, I don't know what they did to confuse so many people, but apparently it worked. At least a half dozen people were sufficiently confused as to enter two quilts on one entry form, one in the full view field and one in the detail field, and then a few went on to put one of the two into a separate entry form. I hope nobody got lost in the shuffle with multiple entries (a fair amount of time was spent by jurors and show organizers trying to get those sorted out). </p><p>In addition, many people attached their detail shot where they were supposed to put their full view, and vice versa. I didn't count how many in the initial pool, but on our "short list" of 139 quilts, ten were switched around, which seems to point to some flaw in the system rather than just random user error. </p><p>Arguably it is no big deal for jurors to see the full view and detail in the wrong order, but I noticed something that I have seen in many other of my jurying experiences: I frequently liked the detail shot more than the full view! And when that one came up first in the viewing window, I would think that was the whole quilt -- and then be a little disappointed to find that it wasn't. </p><p>What does that mean? Sometimes that wide borders and bindings and surrounds are putting too much boring space around the interesting part in the middle. Sometimes that quilts composed of many versions of a recurring motif get carried away, with lots of smaller motifs distracting from the big, strong one that serves as the focal point. (You knew that was the strongest part of the quilt, didn't you? That's why you chose that for the detail shot....) Sometimes it just means that less is more, that one strong, simple composition can pack a big whammy, especially if it's big. </p><p>I was happy to find so many big quilts in the pool. In our short list it is common to find quilts 6 feet square or even larger. I don't remember how many years it's been since FNF did away with a maximum size, but I think the show has greatly benefited from that decision. Many artists who want to play in the juried show ballpark have apparently decided that it's hard to make an impact with a medium-sized quilt. I agree, and I found myself checking the sizes of the entries before assigning scores. If an image looked great on screen (the same size as all the others) but turned out to be on the small side, it had to be really spectacular to get the highest ratings.</p><p>I was also happy to find that the artistic quality of realistic, representational quilts was pretty high. No rusty pickup trucks in this batch of entries, only one household pet. I've always been biased against this genre of quilts, because the subject matter is so often kitschy and cliched, and because I don't think fabric is well suited to making realistic images. But in this batch, many of the representational pieces had a distinctive artist sensibility, with a degree of abstraction and sophisticated composition that took them steps above the usual faithful rendering of a photograph into fabric; those were the ones that made it to the short list. </p><p>I can't show you images of the quilts now, of course, because we're still jurying. The show will open on May 11 and I promise to have lots of photos then to support my observations and opinions! Stay tuned. Meanwhile, because what's a blog post without a picture, here's Best in Show from FNF 2021.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIjmJwgWM6jh8cFnHLBBkCLu2eUmPd4z3gRZBlYSuf8dEl57bdSeUmUYdUXpa5Sj97QtRIkq-Jt8rrFrvc81va0e19RXpXdia8FjXtRJUPZf3ZEhUiL6Y2GArGm185g-6k4XmxtBsF-_c-0o5dMtIx6A_lXkEIz1EG255jSw5fK9pU_Dyl4ws4JnG/s2741/IMG_20210610_113130915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2654" data-original-width="2741" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIjmJwgWM6jh8cFnHLBBkCLu2eUmPd4z3gRZBlYSuf8dEl57bdSeUmUYdUXpa5Sj97QtRIkq-Jt8rrFrvc81va0e19RXpXdia8FjXtRJUPZf3ZEhUiL6Y2GArGm185g-6k4XmxtBsF-_c-0o5dMtIx6A_lXkEIz1EG255jSw5fK9pU_Dyl4ws4JnG/w400-h388/IMG_20210610_113130915.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karen Schulz, Objects in This Mirror</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-32357200295512783962023-03-12T14:21:00.002-04:002023-03-12T14:21:40.544-04:00Too much excitement -- parts 3 and 4<p>When I last posted, I was recovering from the double whammy of my husband's near-death cardiac event and the mysterious failure of the big mirror in our front hall. I was hopeful that the worst was behind us. </p><p>Of course, the worst was behind us -- it's hard to top a near-death event when it comes to comparing hardships. But the hits just keep on coming. Later that day we had a terrible storm come through, with wind gusts of almost 80 mph. Our neighborhood was hard hit, with trees down all over the place, including on the power lines. </p><p>We were without power for 76 hours, during which it was dark and cold much of the time, dark and somewhat warmer the rest of the time. Outside of one afternoon when we camped out at a son's house, we stayed home and contemplated how boring it is to have no music, no internet, no sewing machine, no fridge, no TV. We slept a lot, because it was nice and warm in bed even when the temperature in the house got pretty low. Two afternoons I sat in the car in the driveway, which was nice and warm in the sun, and took naps. </p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDVRD93aIjx0v1G0EwxUHoI9i7Lpa25B30GsLmokxQ_GGSKz2intidsc2Hw65T9575Yl2eO_V8HEabBF1zhD4hAQBUl6yR9brKRSbUuFhOomC6R5XtUYI3Dqj_3GzxP74RCiYKbki87yGUzr62K0UlIEp7_3pwCpdVBP_y2FCAwdFcDyUgo3RZ0-G/s4032/IMG_20230304_112824004_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDVRD93aIjx0v1G0EwxUHoI9i7Lpa25B30GsLmokxQ_GGSKz2intidsc2Hw65T9575Yl2eO_V8HEabBF1zhD4hAQBUl6yR9brKRSbUuFhOomC6R5XtUYI3Dqj_3GzxP74RCiYKbki87yGUzr62K0UlIEp7_3pwCpdVBP_y2FCAwdFcDyUgo3RZ0-G/w400-h300/IMG_20230304_112824004_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">two blocks from our house</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The power returned and to our delight, we didn't even lose the contents of the freezer, which were still covered in ice crystals and thus savable. We had a couple of days of happiness just to be back in our home with everything working.</p><p>But little did we know.</p><p>Yesterday morning, prior to a grocery run, we went downstairs to see if we needed toilet paper in the seldom-used guest bathroom. Well, needing toilet paper was an understatement, because it turns out that sewage was backing up into the toilet, the bathtub, the shower. Apparently the entire sewer line leading out of our house has clogged up. Every drop of water that goes down a drain will only raise the water table (or should we say the sewage table) so the house is effectively unlivable.</p><p>The plumber said he couldn't do anything without a helper, and that couldn't occur till Monday morning. He also called the sewer district, just in case the clog is in the area of their responsibility. They have been out twice and haven't been able to get their sewer-cam in position to inspect. They're also coming back Monday morning.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcsBg9oSpCMPVu0bs8pehFibBx_WZuVq5WPMM0sT7xGy6HSjhPSX17ShVTnm-5KP_grcMK_r03xLIrK0lW_4ZH64kYD0z1Ohm5Wxeyl-stnsGONZNvR-kDKInGfdzoul3ohVLN7q_ImkPPuE292GffyBEGuqBHsezSl2YtaPCikVYcYWoPPGl17MV/s2884/IMG_20230310_204705314_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2884" data-original-width="2820" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcsBg9oSpCMPVu0bs8pehFibBx_WZuVq5WPMM0sT7xGy6HSjhPSX17ShVTnm-5KP_grcMK_r03xLIrK0lW_4ZH64kYD0z1Ohm5Wxeyl-stnsGONZNvR-kDKInGfdzoul3ohVLN7q_ImkPPuE292GffyBEGuqBHsezSl2YtaPCikVYcYWoPPGl17MV/w391-h400/IMG_20230310_204705314_HDR.jpg" width="391" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>So we're holed up in a nice cozy motel for at least another night, feeling sorry for ourselves. My daily stitching has turned very dark.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGKjjPDNcPA19LHWTnbJAKQXOtapyUOfTeDUdQ1LhD2BGrAK3KXknKyg3n8QXYklXi-XpxfxjqZLZiwuMypx-M43owE-ESCr4I-h2Mh5tkwt82emFPPDWJbL9z8uO2lIEcw-BM3a4_-r-h8vj6K3tAL4Z_C3fUD9oKzRstkkhDmOIKGLW4DegYOCe/s3369/IMG_20230311_221915938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3369" data-original-width="2996" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGKjjPDNcPA19LHWTnbJAKQXOtapyUOfTeDUdQ1LhD2BGrAK3KXknKyg3n8QXYklXi-XpxfxjqZLZiwuMypx-M43owE-ESCr4I-h2Mh5tkwt82emFPPDWJbL9z8uO2lIEcw-BM3a4_-r-h8vj6K3tAL4Z_C3fUD9oKzRstkkhDmOIKGLW4DegYOCe/w356-h400/IMG_20230311_221915938.jpg" width="356" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-10694086094886577852023-03-02T21:42:00.003-05:002023-03-03T09:34:35.082-05:00Too much excitement<p>Last week in my house was filled with excitement, the bad kind. On Friday my husband felt faint, got up from his computer chair, went into the dining room, and passed out, with a monumental crash. Fortunately I was in the studio, not at the grocery store, and thus was able to summon the ambulance and get him to the hospital.</p><p>By that time his heart was slowing down, then stopping for as long as six seconds, then restarting itself to do the same thing over again. Clearly that was what had happened to cause the fall and the crash, and the remedy was an immediate temporary pacemaker, followed by a permanent pacemaker on Monday. Now he just has to heal up and he will be considerably better than he was a week ago, no more worries about passing out from slow heartbeat.</p><p>I wish I could say the same for the house. When he fell, he put two spectacular dents in the wall, but fortunately none of the dozen pictures on that wall came down, otherwise we would have had a near-death body covered in shards of glass.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj884QKKDxD2-EpCZwKGE4TgE4po8qw4ee3HQs_NAn6-n5aoNHvZtKAVvsWQgyfLXCgakp0SoQXTeGYRhT9TzptoFcr1PxtC_h2PwihcJMiZRwj5YWoELvtaKcWnSD5TYKg1xJcWlGCDWMy7B9UdwexgiDG5tr91XCVV4Ke4d3UA7L-8l--ImhaCN_y/s4032/IMG_20230226_190845965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj884QKKDxD2-EpCZwKGE4TgE4po8qw4ee3HQs_NAn6-n5aoNHvZtKAVvsWQgyfLXCgakp0SoQXTeGYRhT9TzptoFcr1PxtC_h2PwihcJMiZRwj5YWoELvtaKcWnSD5TYKg1xJcWlGCDWMy7B9UdwexgiDG5tr91XCVV4Ke4d3UA7L-8l--ImhaCN_y/w300-h400/IMG_20230226_190845965.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Then two nights later as I was just home from a long day at the hospital, I turned the corner into our front hallway and realized something was wrong. What was it? I realized it was the beautiful wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling mirror at the far end. Instead of being vertical, it was tilted, and my reflection looked like it was going downhill. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JvuyMfNyjHKZy0gPdG3FuM9b1dOENgsCQvuzyYYEDv8-zrjtzrleDqlNAL6DBRHBppdwQ0g0sPIVkdgzNr6S3CY-A1QNamXX4-1NaD_E11a0Ovp8DMzwrzxIRFY1ckuDpg_GmAwLQLSo1eRXARin8tid0Ut2-6_3pwy5Bz5Hxmzjp4xBoulHvfUf/s4032/IMG_20230227_221551598.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JvuyMfNyjHKZy0gPdG3FuM9b1dOENgsCQvuzyYYEDv8-zrjtzrleDqlNAL6DBRHBppdwQ0g0sPIVkdgzNr6S3CY-A1QNamXX4-1NaD_E11a0Ovp8DMzwrzxIRFY1ckuDpg_GmAwLQLSo1eRXARin8tid0Ut2-6_3pwy5Bz5Hxmzjp4xBoulHvfUf/w300-h400/IMG_20230227_221551598.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Turns out the mirror had detached itself from the wall and fallen forward for six inches, until it encountered the molding around the front door. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyhFo9s-JqAQNT71l3FLwVjnddbEhxVNcp2Yj_NCaceoOCkftBdNLv5aZE0YlXqmDkKuFCItrN_4rgEwguXmu6dbKdBqPnsnB-7lPDW2tFOGpBUO4nVGH_AydoLuXzteLRzg3MKnw-fBQukI9LguXV9uCompfPHSVCLyUpjylLSIuZm3XvNmSExBXK/s4032/IMG_20230227_221605679.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyhFo9s-JqAQNT71l3FLwVjnddbEhxVNcp2Yj_NCaceoOCkftBdNLv5aZE0YlXqmDkKuFCItrN_4rgEwguXmu6dbKdBqPnsnB-7lPDW2tFOGpBUO4nVGH_AydoLuXzteLRzg3MKnw-fBQukI9LguXV9uCompfPHSVCLyUpjylLSIuZm3XvNmSExBXK/w300-h400/IMG_20230227_221605679.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>When my handy sons inspected the scene of the crime the next day, they realized that the mirror had been "secured" only by two little clips at the bottom edge, nothing at the top edge (where there is a half-inch clearance, not a lot but enough to have installed some other kind of fastener). </p><p>Had it been glued to the wall and just this week decided to let loose? Had my husband stumbled against it on his way to collapsing in the dining room? Had the EMTs stumbled against it while humping his limp body out the front door? There were no handprints or smudges anywhere on the mirror, so probably it did its thing without human intervention. Had it been a disaster waiting to happen ever since the house was built in 1963?</p><p>One of the handy sons brought over an industrial-strength tension rod -- think spring-loaded curtain rod, but tightened with a lever handle. Suitable for jacking up sagging roofs and punching holes in concrete. He pushed the mirror back against the wall, padded the bulging places on the tension rod with a pool noodle and installed it in front of the mirror. Now we are safe, I hope, till we can get a guy in to fix the holes in the wall and affix the mirror more securely this time.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDLlw7NrmnSQqgmgnQEx-9_PORGohAGzAwN9DrvjklwWcyupGhlnb65gh6pK5zotshcAFQfBBuq4hc678vkHfnyUwD5s--xfomwGA9KWDoL5wJbtvG9NV2_7SnF3R_m-UP8O6QEk5KF5s25xKTDSVm4Sa1MeRoqiOXLaIi8dOHtz7h4Au2hbpcAZ9/s4032/IMG_20230302_204842022.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDLlw7NrmnSQqgmgnQEx-9_PORGohAGzAwN9DrvjklwWcyupGhlnb65gh6pK5zotshcAFQfBBuq4hc678vkHfnyUwD5s--xfomwGA9KWDoL5wJbtvG9NV2_7SnF3R_m-UP8O6QEk5KF5s25xKTDSVm4Sa1MeRoqiOXLaIi8dOHtz7h4Au2hbpcAZ9/w300-h400/IMG_20230302_204842022.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDD2RKqoJqkLW46crB30G3KVZvYVg6lhicC8si3u71Wq3bVR1QHf2qCuq-Hum6MCkjMuBzyurVXhr9IViSumEeG70oR6A1mM2o9o7ZxNw2xy8E09HlJQIuTdIKSZ5JoZlelpeCypJ9_97a55419RTXw3cGEsvT5lZhb9GdIdKQe6bQ5WMM_QbkK7x/s4032/IMG_20230302_204859495.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDD2RKqoJqkLW46crB30G3KVZvYVg6lhicC8si3u71Wq3bVR1QHf2qCuq-Hum6MCkjMuBzyurVXhr9IViSumEeG70oR6A1mM2o9o7ZxNw2xy8E09HlJQIuTdIKSZ5JoZlelpeCypJ9_97a55419RTXw3cGEsvT5lZhb9GdIdKQe6bQ5WMM_QbkK7x/w300-h400/IMG_20230302_204859495.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Never a dull moment. By the way, the patient is doing well, although it's going to take a while.</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-27291420220081444152023-02-12T13:59:00.000-05:002023-02-12T13:59:15.154-05:00This year's daily art<p>In November I usually start thinking about daily art, and what I'm going to choose for my project in the coming year. I had pretty much narrowed it down to some kind of collage, whether paper or fabric, but didn't have any details in mind. Then when I went to the December retreat from my fiber art group, I was delighted to find that Santa Claus also came.</p><p>Santa aka <a href="https://joanneweis.com/">Joanne Weis</a>, who has been one of my closest art pals for more than two decades. She has experimented with every conceivable method of surface design (dyeing, screenprinting, laminating, painting, etc.) and every conceivable fiber (silk, hemp, linen, cotton, nylon, etc.). She always does considerable testing to develop a palette before embarking on a new project, and often prepares a lot more fabric than she actually uses. And for years, she stashed her unused fabrics in drawers.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUcrMQk0wQqjTkR-ad8Bk8lDqI5mr1_ywp2IwWMCcIDQZIlg3RwPh6oS6So47--n4DWEzWZuIJQBEcofIWBl_gHbbzKVwlP3fhPKJakYOEGkpfprCRTRhTAfO5oS08KPvNKATeQN5eZQ528iY6jkYn0Qmd6VluHGGslNwaVrQIn05mr-PbOpvkrAD/s4032/IMG_20221205_153552656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUcrMQk0wQqjTkR-ad8Bk8lDqI5mr1_ywp2IwWMCcIDQZIlg3RwPh6oS6So47--n4DWEzWZuIJQBEcofIWBl_gHbbzKVwlP3fhPKJakYOEGkpfprCRTRhTAfO5oS08KPvNKATeQN5eZQ528iY6jkYn0Qmd6VluHGGslNwaVrQIn05mr-PbOpvkrAD/w400-h300/IMG_20221205_153552656.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Then last year she decided she needed the drawers, stuffed all the fabrics into big bags, and brought them to the retreat. </p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxB5DGCk0kgCjvG3wv5Vq59oTofRd5S2xAUzqC5rBy3VuuR4ouh3sBLfcX5AYYohE9ojf6MzOmPzdIVP0aromcNeEKPIr81NlerDGWgSdRMUfkcCVHa4aY7_VuoM5LdOTLJ_FN31gLEsCqbczJM7wn_qoIwMGKp3XlJuCahx4VCLcf8kgpFbsBnoi/s4032/IMG_20221205_133504912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxB5DGCk0kgCjvG3wv5Vq59oTofRd5S2xAUzqC5rBy3VuuR4ouh3sBLfcX5AYYohE9ojf6MzOmPzdIVP0aromcNeEKPIr81NlerDGWgSdRMUfkcCVHa4aY7_VuoM5LdOTLJ_FN31gLEsCqbczJM7wn_qoIwMGKp3XlJuCahx4VCLcf8kgpFbsBnoi/w400-h300/IMG_20221205_133504912.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>I let others in the group go through the bags for more than an hour, cherry-picking pieces that called out to them, and when everybody else had enough, I packed up everything that was left.</p><p>Two huge bags worth. And realized that clearly Santa wanted me to do fabric collage as my 2023 daily art.</p><p>I have defined the project as follows: All fabric must come from Joanne's leftovers. I can add hand- or machine-stitching of any kind, plus notions like beads, buttons or found objects. Most days I will finish a collage, but occasionally I can hold it over to another day (or two) as long as it's documented at the end of each day.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA733v0WBb4CodIqhPi3CXElSqs994KI5xC6febRQ_djkk0_2n0dN4230t4Pz0eK6K2ccuOor_Mpx6MuvVw4LmzS56UimtEG-bLUXtH-VQ044_uvBVMidBMPVgcLkFmT7gwRewWvsV5zIJMruaw3WXhHhCFW5Rb3OtqL055oCUurnqOPi5tj20kbbt/s4032/IMG_20230112_152848050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA733v0WBb4CodIqhPi3CXElSqs994KI5xC6febRQ_djkk0_2n0dN4230t4Pz0eK6K2ccuOor_Mpx6MuvVw4LmzS56UimtEG-bLUXtH-VQ044_uvBVMidBMPVgcLkFmT7gwRewWvsV5zIJMruaw3WXhHhCFW5Rb3OtqL055oCUurnqOPi5tj20kbbt/w300-h400/IMG_20230112_152848050.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one took several days to finish (Day 1 here)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I haven't felt this exhilarated in a long time. I find myself getting up in the morning and thinking about what I will do in the studio, and the daily stitching is usually the first thing I tackle when I get there. (By contrast, toward the end of the year, my daily painting got to be a chore, done after dinner with the same enthusiasm as kids have for the last bit of homework before bed.) Often I spend some time preparing fabrics for future days, cutting them into small pieces, maybe putting the pieces through the wash to fray the edges, maybe auditioning possible combinations. </p><p>I haven't posted any of the collages on my daily art blog yet, but that's on my to-do list. Meanwhile, here are a few of my favorites. Obviously I'll be telling you a lot more about this project as the year goes on.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1PKjjfW3YwFRS5LfYxMcKcLHilw75HB-xpWuqkMsbT8eVwIBTzcYjFVJX5oo4pk4EtlXlMe45ZrMEIHMq-IAd9pVlfqCFCvIaZA6P5MRsYY4ZEZ2yDRowWTXlit0ZglSe1y73xZxgoJokAFs2MNsEiSXE020CxmkTrOeva7uYO0-pGU6YaOzy25K/s4032/IMG_20230105_141306238_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1PKjjfW3YwFRS5LfYxMcKcLHilw75HB-xpWuqkMsbT8eVwIBTzcYjFVJX5oo4pk4EtlXlMe45ZrMEIHMq-IAd9pVlfqCFCvIaZA6P5MRsYY4ZEZ2yDRowWTXlit0ZglSe1y73xZxgoJokAFs2MNsEiSXE020CxmkTrOeva7uYO0-pGU6YaOzy25K/w300-h400/IMG_20230105_141306238_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1IyLBDajnrtsMlHWoit0lPVVgAEY6zuCL_Agnn_euFAtyXVBdtTFk0KIORjvZ_y7mKaMXSDN1Bcb37_q1BnjFdfablvdbAFhmXJtzlNqd4gAGX9WnI57ciRUXJU3fZtM4OGuandXkxKLspfsNYkddhiTVW9qLkN4smhRJ6Y9HKh52IYZbHrxj-pK/s4032/IMG_20230131_143536191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1IyLBDajnrtsMlHWoit0lPVVgAEY6zuCL_Agnn_euFAtyXVBdtTFk0KIORjvZ_y7mKaMXSDN1Bcb37_q1BnjFdfablvdbAFhmXJtzlNqd4gAGX9WnI57ciRUXJU3fZtM4OGuandXkxKLspfsNYkddhiTVW9qLkN4smhRJ6Y9HKh52IYZbHrxj-pK/w300-h400/IMG_20230131_143536191.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9f--dMwrWCmfjdNCm8lXmraHCTuiCBWOEsBkPWd5sTxNyH7jehq0F-O5VbJH-w9cF5opKXwkNCdgqelMne9Z14OjtygYC_DmPz0JfHwm6eTuLL7j4FxcrFtqQ6Tb7RGOabo7GyTNCxtFDe4VxHO_glds6o49yzgF-8YRLKhSX0kzSk6UwbxduYlcL/s4032/IMG_20230203_124608301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9f--dMwrWCmfjdNCm8lXmraHCTuiCBWOEsBkPWd5sTxNyH7jehq0F-O5VbJH-w9cF5opKXwkNCdgqelMne9Z14OjtygYC_DmPz0JfHwm6eTuLL7j4FxcrFtqQ6Tb7RGOabo7GyTNCxtFDe4VxHO_glds6o49yzgF-8YRLKhSX0kzSk6UwbxduYlcL/w300-h400/IMG_20230203_124608301.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-21251878519379979262023-02-05T17:48:00.003-05:002023-02-05T17:48:38.223-05:00A long-overdue update -- part 1<p>At least one of my faithful blog readers has noticed that it's been a long time since I posted anything, and wrote to ask me whether something dire was going on. Thanks for asking, Karen, and no, nothing awful has happened on my end, except that for some reason I have gotten out of the blog habit and will have to perform some brain surgery on myself to get back in. So I will do a couple of posts to bring you up to date on what's been going on since last fall.</p><p>First, an update on my daily art. After 365 paintings in 2022, I came to the conclusion that I love to paint, but I have no ideas that I want to express in that medium. I love the paint on the palette, the paint on the brush, the feel of the brush on the paper. I love mixing colors and watching the accidental effects of wet-into-wet. But throughout the year I struggled with what to paint. I would get an idea, usually by copying from somebody else, and paint it more than once to see if it might strike a chord and stay with me.</p><p>In the past, when a student in my workshop or a blog reader would ask me whether they had my permission to use a technique I have used or taught, I would say of course you may (nobody owns an idea). And if you like the technique, make it three times and by then it will change enough that it will belong to you, not to me. I tried to apply this rule of thumb to my painting.</p><p>I've posted about the faces I painted based on black-and-white photos in the paper. I did that 52 times, and maybe10 of them were pretty good. But they were getting repetitive, and I didn't think that they in any way belonged to me. </p><p>I thought maybe if I put some stitching into the paintings it would resonate, since stitching is so integral to the rest of my artistic life. I made several with hand stitching, and a few with machine stitching, and again, I liked them, but there was no surge of desire to keep on making them and after ten tries I stopped trying.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFZw58i7j1PPQ1K1KYnYfj_L1HsgEgNdrhUtsBHXJ1FmhPxFP1-CIHCPsIlKxmtnp-XQTxHvsqRwfLOqKiBqNfwa4zb-bkknBIvS-6eFVkx52-kcN7ugtlDnMakuY7Lb3NvS_OGRx1hVMj1vr_ijMKmvV73hEzZMgcCGXcZ34rgsITXSQS-9TNtFD/s4972/08-06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4972" data-original-width="3206" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFZw58i7j1PPQ1K1KYnYfj_L1HsgEgNdrhUtsBHXJ1FmhPxFP1-CIHCPsIlKxmtnp-XQTxHvsqRwfLOqKiBqNfwa4zb-bkknBIvS-6eFVkx52-kcN7ugtlDnMakuY7Lb3NvS_OGRx1hVMj1vr_ijMKmvV73hEzZMgcCGXcZ34rgsITXSQS-9TNtFD/w258-h400/08-06.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-Fm93rv5ATpdlUwuiJvNvUrAuekYiETMqhGfE5vFHvtQ8dL2qzFrDzMddDqVqJFDRcAQuiZJyx4ht5ShFyh92cFvrjx2l9Oc4uLab8H3CH-fcALsuPpzWYTwCZyRSiXBRgVfkqRltPo9uRKSi0JJCeDSM5gacfhFLfg2KtNqrk4DUi0LXgIV0LxK/s4918/08-09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4918" data-original-width="3246" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-Fm93rv5ATpdlUwuiJvNvUrAuekYiETMqhGfE5vFHvtQ8dL2qzFrDzMddDqVqJFDRcAQuiZJyx4ht5ShFyh92cFvrjx2l9Oc4uLab8H3CH-fcALsuPpzWYTwCZyRSiXBRgVfkqRltPo9uRKSi0JJCeDSM5gacfhFLfg2KtNqrk4DUi0LXgIV0LxK/w264-h400/08-09.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><br />I had a nice long run at the end of the year with 15 paintings following the tutorials of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/vanidasmangathil/?hl=en">Vanidas Mangathil on Instagram</a> (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/VanidasMangathilArt">he's also on YouTube</a>). I loved painting the little people and I highly recommend his instruction if you're into painting little people. But after two weeks I didn't see any signs of them moving into my art space.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wxQIRCRLycwCBkMnkJuEVwA1TuEmCEgTjsL-QQZEMTYoRBD428yAMBVLDhVVDd96gEqdEIaWTLviHuxyE_lWEE7eg27fGsuU0p3-6lwI1wpRXHH-lWPuCYZrH_kWxHI_o8KRh1d9Ve-Re2GbzD1VjGKkvCCgWfdj7OZAQZnOzcHcyDo1Twi2Xz-t/s5754/12-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4143" data-original-width="5754" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wxQIRCRLycwCBkMnkJuEVwA1TuEmCEgTjsL-QQZEMTYoRBD428yAMBVLDhVVDd96gEqdEIaWTLviHuxyE_lWEE7eg27fGsuU0p3-6lwI1wpRXHH-lWPuCYZrH_kWxHI_o8KRh1d9Ve-Re2GbzD1VjGKkvCCgWfdj7OZAQZnOzcHcyDo1Twi2Xz-t/w400-h288/12-01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxnVUMeTRMqDbs66mE6gvr-12ctuVI8icEcnfHTfZl9OSMYsfhKqLGlWVmFKEcMp5BTJ-zC4riY81wOIkTxcT3xX9A02u2VqN0Dyz5WLm4Nm3yynJ26SDw3SA2lOZOFU0W3Ubg-0agQdJ43BPoJHIDgYYgPSNca-HQv7IiIYEOsDjCmT--w9__Jf4/s5805/12-08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5805" data-original-width="4149" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxnVUMeTRMqDbs66mE6gvr-12ctuVI8icEcnfHTfZl9OSMYsfhKqLGlWVmFKEcMp5BTJ-zC4riY81wOIkTxcT3xX9A02u2VqN0Dyz5WLm4Nm3yynJ26SDw3SA2lOZOFU0W3Ubg-0agQdJ43BPoJHIDgYYgPSNca-HQv7IiIYEOsDjCmT--w9__Jf4/w286-h400/12-08.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvco9CIYfYmr3u-W6VG4qYD_UlFyNKRmjDwiEO2B27IFMlzLMHV6CTVG077VMNwu9KSC3kORHSzoTKEYsKSc4FrBsj7gNUd9pJQa4htn4A0JIt-mUHxdrZUrB75GIuUtF2ZDBqnkiqUWFuIFIugO52JHSWyLm707acNH05PjjNfO585hjrzDfZQon/s5782/12-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5782" data-original-width="4116" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvco9CIYfYmr3u-W6VG4qYD_UlFyNKRmjDwiEO2B27IFMlzLMHV6CTVG077VMNwu9KSC3kORHSzoTKEYsKSc4FrBsj7gNUd9pJQa4htn4A0JIt-mUHxdrZUrB75GIuUtF2ZDBqnkiqUWFuIFIugO52JHSWyLm707acNH05PjjNfO585hjrzDfZQon/w285-h400/12-11.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><br />By the end of the year, I had decided that I was done with painting. In fact, I even cut up a bunch of pages from my painting sketchbooks to make my Christmas ornaments.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvzcKcI6cx4lx3c8HHKdIjndTzqmUqK5xuVTCoS6DM6rB-9tk9ud4PtA6hmMXOIRNELoxc5bXR1SIgfAJT5iKxIYswzjopaVu9qfN57cu_H_QS3ayUZYbFTLq15BYPzIt8i6fcEU3OAl-ckxP0LngX1qYH78rhbUld1Deed7BZBPGqYdMDkUomQtG/s4032/IMG_20221214_153927590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvzcKcI6cx4lx3c8HHKdIjndTzqmUqK5xuVTCoS6DM6rB-9tk9ud4PtA6hmMXOIRNELoxc5bXR1SIgfAJT5iKxIYswzjopaVu9qfN57cu_H_QS3ayUZYbFTLq15BYPzIt8i6fcEU3OAl-ckxP0LngX1qYH78rhbUld1Deed7BZBPGqYdMDkUomQtG/w400-h300/IMG_20221214_153927590.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-56855321242344077172022-10-16T12:40:00.005-04:002022-10-16T21:12:36.986-04:00Daily painting -- lots of faces<p>In my last post I showed you the very start of what has turned into a fairly long series of faces in my daily paint project. I have been finding photos in the newspaper and using them as references to paint my own versions: all spaces heavily outlined, faces rendered in two different non-face-like colors against usually dark backgrounds. I'll share some of the ones that I'm proud of (but <a href="https://kathysdailyart.blogspot.com/search/label/paint%20project%202022">you can see them all on my daily art blog</a>). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77ljV9Xul5_mvvm4JTixN-1BAcyly9UUi15Lf6AcCI_6zqJ6LbtBncarKeDedmFz2paGRrUuIR1MN2QunprtkSUEL-eWoJ66dQxhr9_3D_3Vw2Omtqmw-3zJ7kUzk_yF8M7LG64untNl6CLGRIn_DhmXP2__6XGIptBXnU3lgtx7dZuP6pSmP027V/s5879/08-27.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5879" data-original-width="4055" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77ljV9Xul5_mvvm4JTixN-1BAcyly9UUi15Lf6AcCI_6zqJ6LbtBncarKeDedmFz2paGRrUuIR1MN2QunprtkSUEL-eWoJ66dQxhr9_3D_3Vw2Omtqmw-3zJ7kUzk_yF8M7LG64untNl6CLGRIn_DhmXP2__6XGIptBXnU3lgtx7dZuP6pSmP027V/w276-h400/08-27.jpg" width="276" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tHcsAIhkg9SJjkMIPoFekOUxhGxo6yyKy7zyB8sOh0q0eBrnut0ZgNHg2IwIvlRBxwVQOebpv7N4A4aAedZFpoYqBGgkLLLt5SC1yYwxbOcW5rez3NSA_mVTI53HqvVYFGxSbe93e9_VQ0Gu9bM6sbQCbSV5dspq5xXeV7c3htoq2WVagf4yX-iX/s5884/08-29.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5884" data-original-width="4097" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tHcsAIhkg9SJjkMIPoFekOUxhGxo6yyKy7zyB8sOh0q0eBrnut0ZgNHg2IwIvlRBxwVQOebpv7N4A4aAedZFpoYqBGgkLLLt5SC1yYwxbOcW5rez3NSA_mVTI53HqvVYFGxSbe93e9_VQ0Gu9bM6sbQCbSV5dspq5xXeV7c3htoq2WVagf4yX-iX/w279-h400/08-29.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVYeWSXNDxW_SUC9QTdU5U5zZOGfx3GYhjuH0u9G4ePhKoE96bo1GoxfGxU5-ajnBZrE1yp054IKjIrnHBAWTDXT6GwqR46-vqt6t5w7LqhidJECvQ5f9nPi-MMbzHUy-T7jNJ8i6VU8MAjT3bXsdtD4VjxRHcoY7rpiGA9hjYbQM7ThykgcgA3bZ/s5896/09-01.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5896" data-original-width="4085" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVYeWSXNDxW_SUC9QTdU5U5zZOGfx3GYhjuH0u9G4ePhKoE96bo1GoxfGxU5-ajnBZrE1yp054IKjIrnHBAWTDXT6GwqR46-vqt6t5w7LqhidJECvQ5f9nPi-MMbzHUy-T7jNJ8i6VU8MAjT3bXsdtD4VjxRHcoY7rpiGA9hjYbQM7ThykgcgA3bZ/w278-h400/09-01.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpE9L_sj4b6RKeJQNDJxYeNlOc8Kk3A_Dlf4e2HXlPx6561-1WQJqRA_5XQXV9H1G5hxFBJfAscwzHp-8GkHsgOzaeUAGRJFzac65KLkogqVvK8ml8p8XDhOgz6ZPkQ-g84vidsjEf4aVNW5w2VowxTmNiY45Qcf6JuKrrZWzGb5sa64oh4VFQ3RM/s5875/09-07.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5875" data-original-width="4069" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpE9L_sj4b6RKeJQNDJxYeNlOc8Kk3A_Dlf4e2HXlPx6561-1WQJqRA_5XQXV9H1G5hxFBJfAscwzHp-8GkHsgOzaeUAGRJFzac65KLkogqVvK8ml8p8XDhOgz6ZPkQ-g84vidsjEf4aVNW5w2VowxTmNiY45Qcf6JuKrrZWzGb5sa64oh4VFQ3RM/w278-h400/09-07.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDgWhjT3Y-nYy3lz5Q0Q7RcArVH94A_mEyd4mMiYyp3-SycvLATDjB4US_vBWessekAg69bBhte4NrXA-VPnXx3NBVvat6NEo7ZEqJMVSnKKZ2DBb0Gl3vQu1j_aw7P0jM0SKlm09eM3itiqZt1YsrLv4wlptmbIIKJuZy0w6NopEn0ZgGvvOjK_Z/s5818/09-17.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5818" data-original-width="4050" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDgWhjT3Y-nYy3lz5Q0Q7RcArVH94A_mEyd4mMiYyp3-SycvLATDjB4US_vBWessekAg69bBhte4NrXA-VPnXx3NBVvat6NEo7ZEqJMVSnKKZ2DBb0Gl3vQu1j_aw7P0jM0SKlm09eM3itiqZt1YsrLv4wlptmbIIKJuZy0w6NopEn0ZgGvvOjK_Z/w279-h400/09-17.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>As you can see, I do better with men than women! I have tried women but have never been happy with the results. Maybe it's the hair -- and why so many of the ones I like feature bald guys or those in hats!<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIb7apUL88mbozIN3tKCrDJRhT6TQ21s0dUkI4AtGzOx_F8QXdYeX_I02EcuJI3ugfILpo71Ggmzn1axi3Yvu5hkfO6IGpBruEFmzJwYn_Nang81wr52Yu0shJf_vb1fMlSRiBx-zyGfULQyC64DNHqd5rXubeIp0K0pkf8R6mYa3hrDlJHZ1oL2e/s5906/09-19.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5906" data-original-width="4034" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIb7apUL88mbozIN3tKCrDJRhT6TQ21s0dUkI4AtGzOx_F8QXdYeX_I02EcuJI3ugfILpo71Ggmzn1axi3Yvu5hkfO6IGpBruEFmzJwYn_Nang81wr52Yu0shJf_vb1fMlSRiBx-zyGfULQyC64DNHqd5rXubeIp0K0pkf8R6mYa3hrDlJHZ1oL2e/w274-h400/09-19.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXUNEBT-NElPWKsuBLID9pJ3ME_qahlxAFUGRzjAA4mIxhXLiYJcTT9MyPEpxSOvSI6Re7e_2goSrx0HPeQjE5Lwb5Gbqch-ymyOYkApF238QLLoVnlcnjEnyKJxu5MaZKw6ux9ym9yvgh-Te2Sur777Tqv_PFftDiTVm7cP_kTAks6FnaJbQQVHm/s5882/09-30.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5882" data-original-width="4104" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXUNEBT-NElPWKsuBLID9pJ3ME_qahlxAFUGRzjAA4mIxhXLiYJcTT9MyPEpxSOvSI6Re7e_2goSrx0HPeQjE5Lwb5Gbqch-ymyOYkApF238QLLoVnlcnjEnyKJxu5MaZKw6ux9ym9yvgh-Te2Sur777Tqv_PFftDiTVm7cP_kTAks6FnaJbQQVHm/w279-h400/09-30.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>So far I've done 45 of these faces and am not sure what if anything I'm accomplishing. As time passed, I started experimenting with different techniques, such as washy shading of the facial contours, and yet I worry about getting away from the flat, graphic quality that I liked from the start. </p><p>When I go through the whole series I find that the ones I like best are those toward the beginning. That doesn't seem like a good sign. The more you work in a series, the better you're supposed to get, not the other way around.</p><p>I still don't know what I'm going to do next. In two days I start a new, much smaller sketchbook and a new series, because we're heading off on a long trip and I don't want to carry a huge paint kit. What will I put in the new sketchbook? Will I return to the faces when we get home? </p><p>I think that December 31 will be my last daily painting. Several times in the past I have kept the same daily art theme for multiple years when I was having fun and felt there was still more to explore. I know there's still a whole universe of painting out there that I have yet to learn, but I'm drawn more to another stitching project for next year. I'll keep you posted, of course!</p></div>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-2959409795924597142022-09-24T21:49:00.000-04:002022-09-24T21:49:05.741-04:00My good deed for the future<p>I learned to sew at my grandmothers' knees, when I was 5 or 6 years old. Since then I have probably sewed on a thousand buttons and mended hundreds of pairs of pants. Every time I repeat myself with these mundane but so-satisfying chores I think of all the people who don't have those skills, and wonder who should have taught them. </p><p>This summer my son got involved with a new venture, the <a href="https://www.louisvilletoollibrary.com/">Louisville Tool Library</a>, a non-profit that owns lots and lots of tools of every sort that Library members can check our for their various maintenance and improvement projects. At first they were thinking along the lines of shovels, saws, screwdrivers, drills, all kinds of building and fixing equipment. But then people started donating sewing machines and I perked up my ears. My son has made himself the guy in charge of workshops, and I volunteered to teach one for total sewing beginners -- today.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZUKOLK9OUt3bc-XekogE3vT2An-ReQ-bRbdy0pnpxNmQw7YmZMVLy_Jb9e52ZcwkoyT91eUlNtJ-JwPh2fUnN6HLc68GXNGdoZx_3_tyj3P2WgsRTaQXxpSye8D_oEwccVtJbVyPJk05ZET1uHz4OfbJ4cdwZQgJa9GtTbjDyVcQ4skZKFNz2Wo_/s1480/Screenshot_20220917-093801~2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1480" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZUKOLK9OUt3bc-XekogE3vT2An-ReQ-bRbdy0pnpxNmQw7YmZMVLy_Jb9e52ZcwkoyT91eUlNtJ-JwPh2fUnN6HLc68GXNGdoZx_3_tyj3P2WgsRTaQXxpSye8D_oEwccVtJbVyPJk05ZET1uHz4OfbJ4cdwZQgJa9GtTbjDyVcQ4skZKFNz2Wo_/w293-h400/Screenshot_20220917-093801~2.png" width="293" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>With practicality in mind, I decided to teach how to sew on buttons and how to patch holes in pants, both by hand. We started with threading a needle (my students did great -- everybody succeeded on the first try) and putting a knot at the end. Then they sewed on some little four-hole shirt buttons. They could choose whether to sew plus signs or equal signs through the four holes.</p><p>After a couple of shirt buttons, we moved on to pants buttons, which of course required a stalk or shank. They switched to sturdier needles and button-and-carpet thread. We spent time on how to tie off the thread at the end of the task, and how to bury the ends between the layers of fabric (one of the students thought this was the cleverest thing she'd ever seen...).</p><p>Then we put patches on pants holes -- just plain old holes near the knees, no blown-out seams or holes in difficult places like pockets. They cut patches from drapery-weight fabric, pinned them underneath the holes, and did rows and rows of running stitches to secure the patches. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFGWzBumiOm_0HsdLVABtCEcvMLoTQrBjfwD8KJ_FxL3jMEBdkRzxBai_ecxsGcuhy8JvdWoKXTRCUezdkR70VlF1cbmo7QLWaA-7URPNiUqQOvr-CpTkYrWI5BRiQSHqIsncw6qE23KAy34L97whFgVB7Edh8Cq4A6ukn3Rz5npq8gi_Tx-AaP43/s4032/IMG_20220924_152037489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFGWzBumiOm_0HsdLVABtCEcvMLoTQrBjfwD8KJ_FxL3jMEBdkRzxBai_ecxsGcuhy8JvdWoKXTRCUezdkR70VlF1cbmo7QLWaA-7URPNiUqQOvr-CpTkYrWI5BRiQSHqIsncw6qE23KAy34L97whFgVB7Edh8Cq4A6ukn3Rz5npq8gi_Tx-AaP43/w300-h400/IMG_20220924_152037489.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I had only three students this afternoon, after some who had signed up for the workshop were no-shows. At first I was annoyed, but after we got started I was glad to have so few people -- especially the guy who had never held a needle in his life. I could give individual instruction, attention and encouragement. So future workshops will be just as small.</p><p>I came home exhilarated -- all three of the students said they wanted to come back for more lessons, and the Tool Library people want to have me come back as often as I can. I want to keep teaching these basics, and one of the students asked if I could teach "visible mending." I'd also like to hold a mending clinic in which people could bring in their own garments that need help, and we could talk first about whether the problem can actually be repaired, and how to go about it. I am less excited about teaching newbies how to use sewing machines but I suppose I could suck it up and do it. Supposedly the Tool Library people have tested out every tool before putting it out on the floor, so the machines ought to all work (even if they're not Berninas... I am so spoiled... ).</p><p>My objective here is not exactly what I shoot for in teaching quilting or other fiber arts. In those classes I wish that nobody will ever have to use other people's patterns again. In these, the bar is much lower: that nobody will ever have to throw out a garment because it has a hole or a blown seam or a missing button. Call it Survival Skills 101 -- with a side benefit of helping save the planet. A good day all around!</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-6050179776385651192022-09-07T13:19:00.002-04:002022-09-07T13:19:14.748-04:00Daily painting update<p>As July turned into August I started feeling blah every day when I brought out my sketchbook for daily painting. My intentions when I decided to do painting as my daily art for 2022 were to learn how to use paint and brushes, and with any luck, to develop some kind of personal style or voice that felt good. I even thought maybe I could eventually come up with small paintings good enough to be torn out of the sketchbook and displayed in the gallery.</p><p>But none of these things had happened at mid-year. I had learned that I loved gouache, especially when watered down a bit so I could use wet-into-wet techniques. But my default composition of three horizontal segments, stacked one over the other, was feeling stale. Some days I liked what I did, other days not, and I was definitely in a rut.</p><p>My sketchbook ran out of pages toward the end of August and I waited until the last possible day to make a run to the art supply store -- where to my dismay, there were no more 5 1/2 x 8 1/2 sketchbooks on the shelves. I had to buy the next size up, 7 x 10. That doesn't seem like a lot, but it's actually 50% larger and the expanse of untouched white looked orders of magnitude more daunting. </p><p>So, time for a life-changing experience -- I painted a person.</p><p>I was thinking of Rouault's people, crudely outlined in black, usually dark against dark, not photorealistic by a mile but also not cute or cartoony. </p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCyeF1qz6l0_UERho0g3dYwgQZ7kVtymXsC_W2cYcTNC6E2HgsqmNnTyneb4cYf9KLC1utja18zcnv1ArzsQYqJaNzdHH0FLa8U7LS04p8kWsXgS9ZsIxvC2xYIwO5hbU7UbZK8bVc90gufiobC53V9N5NOgtGNGi4_a-hSwrXF0Mu4lbF2nfsmrK/s600/the-old-king-1936.jpg!Large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="403" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCyeF1qz6l0_UERho0g3dYwgQZ7kVtymXsC_W2cYcTNC6E2HgsqmNnTyneb4cYf9KLC1utja18zcnv1ArzsQYqJaNzdHH0FLa8U7LS04p8kWsXgS9ZsIxvC2xYIwO5hbU7UbZK8bVc90gufiobC53V9N5NOgtGNGi4_a-hSwrXF0Mu4lbF2nfsmrK/w134-h200/the-old-king-1936.jpg!Large.jpg" width="134" /></a></i></div><i>Georges Rouault, The Old King</i><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Here's my first such guy:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGD8ND_ff6qLV6UrMC1tCnPkFRW-akYaRPNy_UbKW1uWTjrXIdTahK3D2i4tTxhZmKjcrnEB6v9g7inAtTUPqWSwhjdOfYMCGNlqY8qdf-rG48yEuaTFmARVgC9j40HGjAvvicRwM4zVxRH5Uvlk_Vg0x3m3vg0B3MIXFXfW07qT9YsZIAbZOw2P2v/s5812/08-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5812" data-original-width="4019" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGD8ND_ff6qLV6UrMC1tCnPkFRW-akYaRPNy_UbKW1uWTjrXIdTahK3D2i4tTxhZmKjcrnEB6v9g7inAtTUPqWSwhjdOfYMCGNlqY8qdf-rG48yEuaTFmARVgC9j40HGjAvvicRwM4zVxRH5Uvlk_Vg0x3m3vg0B3MIXFXfW07qT9YsZIAbZOw2P2v/w276-h400/08-23.jpg" width="276" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I liked him, but what to do the next day? I was less happy with the second guy, getting too much toward the cute/cartoon side:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpMsPMt_FI9FI5R3rYZcMAZQurDCkVI4UfMIzp10WLh-ccdTvE2ogC2HMvh5qEZp9SlppcgB48uB9WQu0YOlr97t1TvJa5b0FPH7qw4ftwD-38f2v77IrxZrRaUJ3WdIDuB6xsWf2TLfZw6gmDdn_DEE71rcA_NPzMTr9nY4MpaTc_YJ5d7pLe3iM/s5822/08-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5822" data-original-width="4034" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpMsPMt_FI9FI5R3rYZcMAZQurDCkVI4UfMIzp10WLh-ccdTvE2ogC2HMvh5qEZp9SlppcgB48uB9WQu0YOlr97t1TvJa5b0FPH7qw4ftwD-38f2v77IrxZrRaUJ3WdIDuB6xsWf2TLfZw6gmDdn_DEE71rcA_NPzMTr9nY4MpaTc_YJ5d7pLe3iM/w278-h400/08-24.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Then an idea: what if I copied my guy from a photo in the newspaper instead of drawing him? Here's the third guy:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLNHWfU12oonyPXkOVckq2evoJfl2DmrhgNyp76osfU6350CwiPN2cMpfKcZxQji6B6fdlZC0yUuBJ7Y_C6SjfITSTr8Mly-6FfckxAWeMvP9P8mUGKOMGLw_9Uc3n0dQfRkPyztBbPqxm_TlPdI44WT4qAuimwC1FHQNdCK6VS5fHIPm8CR4Q53S/s5790/08-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5790" data-original-width="4062" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLNHWfU12oonyPXkOVckq2evoJfl2DmrhgNyp76osfU6350CwiPN2cMpfKcZxQji6B6fdlZC0yUuBJ7Y_C6SjfITSTr8Mly-6FfckxAWeMvP9P8mUGKOMGLw_9Uc3n0dQfRkPyztBbPqxm_TlPdI44WT4qAuimwC1FHQNdCK6VS5fHIPm8CR4Q53S/w280-h400/08-25.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I was much happier -- without having to worry about the outline, I could still do my own thing with the painting, and the two-color face approach was very satisfying. I'm now two weeks in to the newspaper photo series and feeling pretty good about it. </p><p>I'll show you more of these new faces in another post.</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-75199975670953350462022-08-05T11:59:00.001-04:002022-08-05T11:59:09.510-04:00I have not been dead, it just looks that way...<p>I am so embarrassed at how long it's been since I last posted. June and July have been the busiest months in years and while I've kept up with the daily painting and the daily Instagram posts, I have sorely neglected my blog. I guess that proves that, at least for me, making a commitment to daily art works much better than just trying to do something as frequently as possible. I'll try to catch you up on what I missed telling you about at the time.</p><p>So the end of June was a marathon of getting a truckload of art ready to hang in my solo show at PYRO Gallery. A bit more than half the pieces in the show were new work, made in the last two years. The rest were older, but mostly never seen locally. Among the very oldest was this quilt that appeared in the special "I Remember Mama" exhibit at the Houston Quilt Festival in 2003.</p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sM_EmzMPcYPmeqc2reMg1hjfs2kxrergCpcdIxFPtjCG8dTmehC7aGIaqUG2RckKaGWyVHS8mRZkgjT15XjjVQiBIOyCzd8kMxTkmGwy41ZVLChjTnZ8BwooXUJaWNfSrZeLpwe1axhs3TXhGjiIoUfL8595fswy-LOVr2mDM1JfdZRMqMYXk8m7/s4032/IMG_20220705_162731612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sM_EmzMPcYPmeqc2reMg1hjfs2kxrergCpcdIxFPtjCG8dTmehC7aGIaqUG2RckKaGWyVHS8mRZkgjT15XjjVQiBIOyCzd8kMxTkmGwy41ZVLChjTnZ8BwooXUJaWNfSrZeLpwe1axhs3TXhGjiIoUfL8595fswy-LOVr2mDM1JfdZRMqMYXk8m7/w400-h300/IMG_20220705_162731612.jpg" width="400" /></a></i></div><i><br />Household Textiles, 2003, details below</i><p></p><p>When I wrote an artist statement for the Houston show, it was pretty sweet -- kind of embarrassing to me as I read it again for the first time in almost 20 years. I talked about women who "sit with our needles and contemplate our lives as we sew, finding joy, peace, and a brief respite from chores and chaos."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgah04RcdD97RWHPaKMXFL5W9ML2TSMyFlHOFBul_zcQztad6-aPGdbTUELKeqC8ad40d_qWOLH7uaNERSefI_CNIz5cVWkia4g0CyDQCUzNoyPQeBioJvj2ZbTWJ_JGcy8Yn1xFmYVFisOIfkw2zDXSN-_3_esSlcdoKWmcF5MrgFKgNbOllu7AL2d/s4032/IMG_20220705_162842564.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgah04RcdD97RWHPaKMXFL5W9ML2TSMyFlHOFBul_zcQztad6-aPGdbTUELKeqC8ad40d_qWOLH7uaNERSefI_CNIz5cVWkia4g0CyDQCUzNoyPQeBioJvj2ZbTWJ_JGcy8Yn1xFmYVFisOIfkw2zDXSN-_3_esSlcdoKWmcF5MrgFKgNbOllu7AL2d/w400-h300/IMG_20220705_162842564.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />When I gave a couple of gallery talks during the run of my show, I found myself taking a different and darker tone. I pointed out that household textiles come is two different varieties: as instruments of female drudgery, and sometimes as instruments of female creativity and pleasure. I noted that the ladies on the quilt (three of them are actual people, including Viola, my mother; two are made-up names given to unidentified photos found in the family box) obviously spent a whole lot more time on drudgery than on creativity...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7f8cEamL4_MeroeZZcsH3oi7GDd4lCT_ICw4ckkv5nlrP_weN1oR3gU680HP18VDDabUeL68AJ-S6PKMkil7rkRb40jzUe37l-cWvfAKqfCAvg-JLnHrxC8JmcGUwtF0aMa7VDL0bWcmaWKyXsXL-SQPWHxJDJ0bZh57cgcu0XRvg657veUFPjti/s4032/IMG_20220705_162853542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7f8cEamL4_MeroeZZcsH3oi7GDd4lCT_ICw4ckkv5nlrP_weN1oR3gU680HP18VDDabUeL68AJ-S6PKMkil7rkRb40jzUe37l-cWvfAKqfCAvg-JLnHrxC8JmcGUwtF0aMa7VDL0bWcmaWKyXsXL-SQPWHxJDJ0bZh57cgcu0XRvg657veUFPjti/w400-h300/IMG_20220705_162853542.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div>I was particularly happy that my sister was able to come for the opening of the show, and got to revisit her old wedding dress incorporated into the quilt. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWbjP3PT5aIoqIdHc_tBKECR7RzB4rScZsYBtArhem6B9_rj6UA8p8nS_DcVBZasxhqxz3RWByI-glc-pe9cACE-vr3i7g-qNCiBiprwe9axddAh-IpwHOBnulmSPtvcLv2gckUeWZjK-fR8mAp8jcYcPK2QmBC5ohrWIvyL1qBGgA70asauuHwnJ/s4032/IMG_20220705_162754176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWbjP3PT5aIoqIdHc_tBKECR7RzB4rScZsYBtArhem6B9_rj6UA8p8nS_DcVBZasxhqxz3RWByI-glc-pe9cACE-vr3i7g-qNCiBiprwe9axddAh-IpwHOBnulmSPtvcLv2gckUeWZjK-fR8mAp8jcYcPK2QmBC5ohrWIvyL1qBGgA70asauuHwnJ/w400-h300/IMG_20220705_162754176.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The marriage didn't last, but the dress sure did. It was made of that luscious heavy, drapey polyester that was so popular in the early 70s and it will no doubt outlive every other piece of textile on the entire quilt, if not the entire world. You can see in the photo that I stuffed the long sleeve so it rises a good three inches off the surface of the quilt, and I was astounded to see that after 19 years on a shelf, the sleeve is still just as perky and wrinkle-free as it was when I folded up the quilt and stowed it away. Go, polyester! (Now, of course, people sneer at polyester, while loving microfiber, which of course is the same thing...) <div><br /></div><div>On another note of remembrance, I couldn't help but think, many times during the show, of my dear friend Marti Plager, who died a year ago. She had always loved this quilt and on many occasions urged me to find a way to get it up in public again. A few times I almost did, and Marti was disappointed when it never happened.<div><br /></div><div>So it finally happened, and I hope Marti got to look down from heaven and see it displayed so nicely.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwVkuJt82QAi50wMKrlN1FMNwPho7uqVSPoH0Ufzmu30hqlqy7uLz0XGW_HXrB7RnCGLHDaycQsmnU27d00rhMbH4sZQGOQSL0GVganaNMEnHltPZsVZsugGxNczr5bsSkU23cb5SypPRhTMYDQhfCyb0doe_GA_sYtBy7Ib2zG9FrXXLy3jUx7YV/s4032/IMG_20220707_142150651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwVkuJt82QAi50wMKrlN1FMNwPho7uqVSPoH0Ufzmu30hqlqy7uLz0XGW_HXrB7RnCGLHDaycQsmnU27d00rhMbH4sZQGOQSL0GVganaNMEnHltPZsVZsugGxNczr5bsSkU23cb5SypPRhTMYDQhfCyb0doe_GA_sYtBy7Ib2zG9FrXXLy3jUx7YV/w300-h400/IMG_20220707_142150651.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p></div></div>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-2810708510304949192022-06-11T17:54:00.005-04:002022-06-11T17:54:48.645-04:00Getting ready -- a lot of work...<p>My new show opens four weeks from yesterday and I'm now in the stage that is probably the least fun. All the art is made, but it has to be made ready to hang. I've made about 20 hand-stitched pieces in varying shapes and sizes, most of them pretty small, and to make a cohesive body of work they're all going to be mounted on stretched canvases, covered with black fabric. </p><p>Unfortunately, the black fabric is not tightly woven (I bought the cheapest cotton in the store) so the white canvas shows through when it's tightly stretched. So I had to paint the outer border of the canvas black first. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRhqYnumBG5lvkGfq0ISTzN4Mqt_LhQReH5qpxkKVgXQMt5q-NsS3RHDBxbP6sRQVH1nb87P56kqQlXhuwDpyOXIHoLKEotuSg0RTePoFO37V8DrKW6MC0qQhtPW-OOAWuSP1By2MpA-bqJtlY4UW4JCwPpYsnMms6v-O4AN2LU4VmUbyi4SIqcWD/s4032/IMG_20220528_135013954_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRhqYnumBG5lvkGfq0ISTzN4Mqt_LhQReH5qpxkKVgXQMt5q-NsS3RHDBxbP6sRQVH1nb87P56kqQlXhuwDpyOXIHoLKEotuSg0RTePoFO37V8DrKW6MC0qQhtPW-OOAWuSP1By2MpA-bqJtlY4UW4JCwPpYsnMms6v-O4AN2LU4VmUbyi4SIqcWD/w400-h300/IMG_20220528_135013954_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Then to the stretching. The parts in the middle are easy to do, but the corners are tricky if you want them to be as flat as possible. (The purchased canvas already has a triangle of three layers at each corner, so perfectly flat isn't going to happen, but by pulling tight you can get them to fold neatly, without bulges.) <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkHb1yzXr6OFBtyvgSHydgo0fm9h2S2xoF1_45e3v7Gb6fr613vc7nYZU5C1uBEiRSOO4vWqaaRyCfKnN7Foa6smzYJs0DHDTwHDTkQmDkpVWcwJRR20ivlwDcD7G4EptI6Xv9lVAf5Ya2nKQ53EAJSoc9VKRc8lIUIIgIrcY9g-80kQDRqSEN0aH/s4032/IMG_20220529_150045792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkHb1yzXr6OFBtyvgSHydgo0fm9h2S2xoF1_45e3v7Gb6fr613vc7nYZU5C1uBEiRSOO4vWqaaRyCfKnN7Foa6smzYJs0DHDTwHDTkQmDkpVWcwJRR20ivlwDcD7G4EptI6Xv9lVAf5Ya2nKQ53EAJSoc9VKRc8lIUIIgIrcY9g-80kQDRqSEN0aH/w400-h300/IMG_20220529_150045792.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I do this by pulling and pinning and inspecting and pulling some more and repinning everything before putting in the final staples in the corners. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gr4aYalt5-eIAudg_MV8EOOAUukEKZrU4oBkqt8GmGN0gixC0y7c1CVMM6FDUWHYBSV0jArsQGD9bwXs1RFIBqi9db9PKio2MrvzltN6-EmpTuJnLxzvbdNp47BAnMcIwUzhdEPmkfkETnzztCUShx8gYuQ0jtKMWl491BS31K7xjCIHDaYn4SzV/s3006/IMG_20220529_151314977%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2350" data-original-width="3006" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gr4aYalt5-eIAudg_MV8EOOAUukEKZrU4oBkqt8GmGN0gixC0y7c1CVMM6FDUWHYBSV0jArsQGD9bwXs1RFIBqi9db9PKio2MrvzltN6-EmpTuJnLxzvbdNp47BAnMcIwUzhdEPmkfkETnzztCUShx8gYuQ0jtKMWl491BS31K7xjCIHDaYn4SzV/w400-h313/IMG_20220529_151314977%20(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I sew the embroideries to the canvas, sometimes with the stitches invisible (time-consuming, but it's almost like magic when you're done) and sometimes visible. Fortunately it's easy to stitch through the canvas and sometimes I got into a groove, carrying many of the stitching lines off the original fabric and well onto the background. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhBiTiIjjz7R2nQH2_4pJagCYIAMcrs-Rnq_5ZGQH0TeT3wln14bG_luNIR79_j1TzLIuoSinedTjv6nMaFKyjGubrpjlc0RrYXgwXia_fmcz2kxxfMFy98mF1IImbOWho5cyjfxlgqRikxGL2cB4wcnIaDwxasN6ibNyvAvZrTL1KAT5vIOjP02H/s4032/IMG_20220607_184558022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhBiTiIjjz7R2nQH2_4pJagCYIAMcrs-Rnq_5ZGQH0TeT3wln14bG_luNIR79_j1TzLIuoSinedTjv6nMaFKyjGubrpjlc0RrYXgwXia_fmcz2kxxfMFy98mF1IImbOWho5cyjfxlgqRikxGL2cB4wcnIaDwxasN6ibNyvAvZrTL1KAT5vIOjP02H/w400-h300/IMG_20220607_184558022.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpCbyiAG3DVJCGAZtGVpzwUnAZ8OU_utufOhtdF4LvhjwCMUShm6V3WkyhXoYJNMmbykydf3J9zs2fsLkKOgPWlOxGFj3cPjZAqU1_uxYLUiU_UAE0AZ2w7wzYgS8qVrtM0vXHjCoCTY4oBvmHZGtTkuqkoaz4humyJyU484PED0FfM5v4ZYgfca_/s4032/IMG_20220607_184637588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpCbyiAG3DVJCGAZtGVpzwUnAZ8OU_utufOhtdF4LvhjwCMUShm6V3WkyhXoYJNMmbykydf3J9zs2fsLkKOgPWlOxGFj3cPjZAqU1_uxYLUiU_UAE0AZ2w7wzYgS8qVrtM0vXHjCoCTY4oBvmHZGtTkuqkoaz4humyJyU484PED0FfM5v4ZYgfca_/w400-h300/IMG_20220607_184637588.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQDC9h98VQvxkMBhR5py9cwb9aF7lV4TiL7eo5ZyKj0bmQUtV1ZeupeYyS5yW5vKJ-WpC3Y8Qwvvni-npe3zGJIrd71fvrYypLOvGaGKqugJmW4W1HxHC0xb30SqR_OJcL552148Rp1n784JOjLsgqYor5EWpaBFhcs_mosjUoIa2ltnrY3DV0-Pz/s4032/IMG_20220607_184645329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQDC9h98VQvxkMBhR5py9cwb9aF7lV4TiL7eo5ZyKj0bmQUtV1ZeupeYyS5yW5vKJ-WpC3Y8Qwvvni-npe3zGJIrd71fvrYypLOvGaGKqugJmW4W1HxHC0xb30SqR_OJcL552148Rp1n784JOjLsgqYor5EWpaBFhcs_mosjUoIa2ltnrY3DV0-Pz/w400-h300/IMG_20220607_184645329.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I am deliberately avoiding calculating how much time it takes me to get a "finished" embroidery onto a canvas. If I did, I'd probably realize that I'm paying myself a minimum wage of about 95 cents an hour. But there are compensations, such as seeing a big stack of canvases, all looking the same, ready to go.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNI_MmsmgzosMGsAm42Bi0FaEepIrSssq-nhkuN8kI96zS9TglAtKGZrb4qUTGrEAXuRmFmxnHvO3sKzVdFQkjdBRqg-I3LCBIu-m0FG4VQ7CgU2dNi3fZEbXIe7toDMWFQP4KPWzCSpXQQoCPXr4tdWeRMq4WBOg6eWc3eKTi6TSmmn2cCG2AhYO_/s4032/IMG_20220610_190959942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNI_MmsmgzosMGsAm42Bi0FaEepIrSssq-nhkuN8kI96zS9TglAtKGZrb4qUTGrEAXuRmFmxnHvO3sKzVdFQkjdBRqg-I3LCBIu-m0FG4VQ7CgU2dNi3fZEbXIe7toDMWFQP4KPWzCSpXQQoCPXr4tdWeRMq4WBOg6eWc3eKTi6TSmmn2cCG2AhYO_/w300-h400/IMG_20220610_190959942.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-44349301616083235572022-05-26T20:05:00.000-04:002022-05-26T20:05:06.090-04:00Let them drink beer<p>This post has nothing to do with fiber art but I'm feeling seriously crabby.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWen2MVKtY4GHc0eRPoR0em3X0kaBzN9n0hTlrNtu8eFssYgUsEvtZdqE2irVlju2vGsqk1zlcKFLcb7BMbPx4jHMpkoeA7sbQUfO_qlOGuhiQLS5y8qnXYmLejaGtOg-uEtx2mt89jG4USlV_nd3zIIr4pPXCYPSGqBxxAMd2YsOIV_HrNyvSBWhp/s3237/DSCN0027%20(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3237" data-original-width="3209" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWen2MVKtY4GHc0eRPoR0em3X0kaBzN9n0hTlrNtu8eFssYgUsEvtZdqE2irVlju2vGsqk1zlcKFLcb7BMbPx4jHMpkoeA7sbQUfO_qlOGuhiQLS5y8qnXYmLejaGtOg-uEtx2mt89jG4USlV_nd3zIIr4pPXCYPSGqBxxAMd2YsOIV_HrNyvSBWhp/w396-h400/DSCN0027%20(2).JPG" width="396" /></a></div><br />I'm crabby about the crisis in baby formula. As a mother who failed at breastfeeding my first time around (as did my mother and my sister) and went straight to the bottle the second time around, I can't imagine what mothers are doing today when they can't find formula in the stores. And it seems that the only response from the public health establishment is to harangue them: DON'T, DON'T, DON'T make homemade formula.<p></p><p>I was particularly annoyed this afternoon to read my regular email newsletter from Dr. Leana Wen, who writes for the Washington Post. A reader complained to her: "Why aren't pediatricians sharing these recipes? Public health authorities keep treating mothers like they are too incompetent to follow simple directions to feed their babies."</p><p>Dr. Wen sanctimoniously explained the two reasons why mothers shouldn't make their own formula. "First, commercial formula is carefully researched through clinical trials to provide the specific nutrients babies need. Homemade recipes will likely lack these nutrients or contain them in improper amounts."</p><p>So how about sharing recipes that contain the right nutrients in the right amounts? Wouldn't that be better than leaving desperate parents to their own devices?</p><p>Dr. Wen continues: "Second, homemade recipes are rife with bacterial contamination. There are Internet recipes that call for using unpasteurized raw milk, which is really dangerous for babies."</p><p>Again, how about sharing a recipe that doesn't call for unpasteurized raw milk? Or sharing tips for making sure that homemade formula is protected as much as possible from bacteria? People are capable of canning tomatoes in sterile jars, and in an emergency -- which we have right now -- they should be able to carefully do the best possible job with baby formula.</p><p>Dr. Wen and WaPo are not alone in telling people what not to do but offering no help on what they should do instead. Here's the New York Times' list of don'ts: </p><p>"If you're running low on formula, don't dilute it or try to stretch it by adding water." </p><p>"Don't buy formula from an online marketplace like Facebook or Craigslist... Always go to a trusted store, pharmacy or directly to the manufacturer." (in other words, all those places that don't have any formula on the shelves...)</p><p>"Don't feed toddler formula to your infant. (Toddler formula may be OK for an older baby for a few days; check with your doctor.)" </p><p>"Buying imported European formulas, which aren't FDA-approved, has potential risks. For example, in Europe, a hypoallergenic formula may contain intact proteins, which can cause reactions in babies with allergies." (apparently the White House missed this memo, because they're already starting to airlift formula from Europe...)</p><p>For many reasons, this isn't turning out to be a great year for parents and children. Perhaps the FDA will eventually get around to approving a covid vaccine for little ones, or perhaps they'll just hope the little ones can survive to age 5. Perhaps the airlifted formula will be sufficient that the babies can survive long enough to be able to finally drink toddler formula. </p><p>And with any luck, the little ones will survive to adulthood without being shot up in their classrooms. Our grandson graduated from elementary school today, uneventfully. Other grandparents sadly are not as fortunate as we in that respect.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-65114000550496270142022-05-14T21:02:00.002-04:002022-05-14T21:02:15.264-04:00Feeling trapped<p>I've been painting fish for several weeks in my daily art project. Since fish live in water, and since I am intrigued by the washy effects of wet-into-wet painting, I've been doing a lot of experimenting with making the fish blurry, as though seen through the water.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BxMElepTPNsNoT2E5eGJAeV-mfB2_UVAnzWwFXyZh8MCj629dYXicUuUa1HxyXcHYXc0Z5JBRd2X7NIuZVIMIMhr1mrACO69bCC1-p_m7EL48PVyryNz4khFBSahv-09Q4Qv24NEPGQElP4DCrZwpjMZTCQ-t1njVSQU745xCc1A19NyX4VOhcsC/s5034/04-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5034" data-original-width="3201" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BxMElepTPNsNoT2E5eGJAeV-mfB2_UVAnzWwFXyZh8MCj629dYXicUuUa1HxyXcHYXc0Z5JBRd2X7NIuZVIMIMhr1mrACO69bCC1-p_m7EL48PVyryNz4khFBSahv-09Q4Qv24NEPGQElP4DCrZwpjMZTCQ-t1njVSQU745xCc1A19NyX4VOhcsC/w254-h400/04-25.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I've enjoyed this series, although I think it's about to end, because I have other ideas to explore. But a strange thing happened with the fish this week.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfl-ay6T1R_boiJMJfuAdu8cksZhDfCu5YTtJtkV0lYtCLst6hO6JgJeZkZxgcxPGwV7d97IEp-rjgrNvTX0RahabkwL-u5XlFjOHaKsNPAX2kEC84KQ9XCohAWZRFqawkMv2eyPVNdQOERqPtv3PsxhPVN2ToUrqtBuD00q_M8f43qyEd4AoUxfm/s5022/05-08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5022" data-original-width="3212" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfl-ay6T1R_boiJMJfuAdu8cksZhDfCu5YTtJtkV0lYtCLst6hO6JgJeZkZxgcxPGwV7d97IEp-rjgrNvTX0RahabkwL-u5XlFjOHaKsNPAX2kEC84KQ9XCohAWZRFqawkMv2eyPVNdQOERqPtv3PsxhPVN2ToUrqtBuD00q_M8f43qyEd4AoUxfm/w256-h400/05-08.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>We have been tied up in organizing a family transition, as my sister-in-law is going to move across the country from a single-family home on a multi-acre lot in the exurbs to a senior living center here in Kentucky. We are her closest family, and it's time for her to come to where we can support and help her.</p><p>We visited four, count 'em, four places yesterday, which is at least one too many, if you're planning a similar emdeavor. But fortunately, we found one that looked pretty good, and this morning we went back for a second look and more gory details. I think this is going to happen -- as soon as the minor tasks of selling a house and moving across the US can be worked out. Things will be better for everybody once it's done; just the doing will be hell on wheels.</p><p>So back to my fish.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Ej2iBg4z9p-830DjALmsE9CRhk-26T55LESOpmobJTBmT94Lu_DSxlSenYJ84iMVyLvAQ2OSzHAdFHDUzet-LzoifdUtBfGTMAsb4pbzQ_EqdwQC2BLTPewzbJxdnZ69L26DB2QHopcevb1HSOahCwbRoZg5nKQygCa87rLc1Lz8N9KrNaApwfjN/s4976/05-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3217" data-original-width="4976" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Ej2iBg4z9p-830DjALmsE9CRhk-26T55LESOpmobJTBmT94Lu_DSxlSenYJ84iMVyLvAQ2OSzHAdFHDUzet-LzoifdUtBfGTMAsb4pbzQ_EqdwQC2BLTPewzbJxdnZ69L26DB2QHopcevb1HSOahCwbRoZg5nKQygCa87rLc1Lz8N9KrNaApwfjN/w400-h259/05-12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I was going to be the get-it-done, voice of reason on yesterday's expedition. I was familiar with three of the places we visited, because two dear friends, now dead, had lived there. I had set foot in these three establishments dozens or scores of times. I knew that my husband and his sister were emotionally fraught by this task, so I was going to be the one who would guide and evaluate with a slightly more objective and detached view.<p></p><p>But as the day wore on, I found myself un-detached, and unexpectedly feeling trapped and claustrophobic.</p><p>The fish told the story -- when I did my painting last night the fish ended up in a box.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHd7L80qaXC5g64iybneX4J-5kwUeR5CdSrEsTvs-I__TC8KzuMFgH1_WLLacwAADesQ0HIGz_EzHwPlCvFXDaCBhBnfJL_IDogRJ8-n_ebg9cx80vFJ4q8QsmawoXFNo4BhZOqkCwM5LbENReqjIZMyPkhzbaldxjsa6xMeokPrmJS6kmSda_fW5/s4931/05-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4931" data-original-width="3215" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHd7L80qaXC5g64iybneX4J-5kwUeR5CdSrEsTvs-I__TC8KzuMFgH1_WLLacwAADesQ0HIGz_EzHwPlCvFXDaCBhBnfJL_IDogRJ8-n_ebg9cx80vFJ4q8QsmawoXFNo4BhZOqkCwM5LbENReqjIZMyPkhzbaldxjsa6xMeokPrmJS6kmSda_fW5/w261-h400/05-13.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>And this morning, before we headed out for the second visit to the best place, the fish ended up in a trap.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgZNYUd8ksL_6MLVk6PdbZfXWq1qpU7OIxrxp5U_puVuPzkSkMo4On0ywqi7KO8VAKUXMqoc_ChfVePQnmg3IuIdJznv7iVWq_6NyuhdOF6X4gGHGmuPPFMJVdqyemCoILtPH28mQP7KjEl-WJBSOS5N4EvrEpoIAp--W5sApc2wwAtAYYAoFoz6x/s5014/05-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3137" data-original-width="5014" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgZNYUd8ksL_6MLVk6PdbZfXWq1qpU7OIxrxp5U_puVuPzkSkMo4On0ywqi7KO8VAKUXMqoc_ChfVePQnmg3IuIdJznv7iVWq_6NyuhdOF6X4gGHGmuPPFMJVdqyemCoILtPH28mQP7KjEl-WJBSOS5N4EvrEpoIAp--W5sApc2wwAtAYYAoFoz6x/w400-h250/05-14.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I'm a decade younger than my husband and his sister, so I have known forever that it's likely I'll be the last one standing, the one who does the caregiving and the support at the end of life. But something about visiting these places made me painfully aware that we're all getting older.<p></p><p>I have sworn that I will never enter an institution when I get old; instead I will die in my own home if it kills me (thus cleverly avoiding the issue of what to do with my studio and my stash and my collections of stuff that I intend to turn into art. Let my kids deal with that after I'm gone. And sure enough, just walking into these places -- even the best, most pleasant of them -- reminded me of why I have sworn this oath.</p><p>I think the place we have found will be the best solution for my SIL. It will allow her to easily make friends in a city where she has never lived, thousands of miles away from her present home. It will give her support and infrastructure so she won't have to lean on us for everything. It will provide access to dozens of activities and lots of companionship that she could never get in a regular old apartment. I'm not sure why I'm feeling trapped instead of happy. (Actually, I guess I'm happy too, but the fish certainly aren't...)</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-33113115552906585602022-04-28T13:42:00.000-04:002022-04-28T13:42:01.404-04:00Sanford Biggers at the Speed, part 3<p>I've written about the Sanford Biggers show in two previous posts. Time for a wrap-up.</p><p>The piece I liked best in the show was a Tumbling Blocks quilt, with a minimum of paint, overlaid with a dramatic horizontal flame of orange-and-black chevron print. A little bit of black paint made a curvy outline over the old blocks, a sort of half-silhouette of a key shape.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlo8W-x3VtVeWanVPJDjX24UX2Xxj4r4bpUbPsSO24sKq7IO5HJZ0nlVRN8pgYjyv0Ezsv16xQrgGGkeD44lv2cSO2Ro5y9HxwR-HsTjZ7-kBIiL1UGjg60hO7iCahO_URzS0O3YoW8exhlpGY6wH55_AGRgejsKqck8PrdqZ2wkPZPp4Ra7gdbgl/s4032/IMG_20220408_132641696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlo8W-x3VtVeWanVPJDjX24UX2Xxj4r4bpUbPsSO24sKq7IO5HJZ0nlVRN8pgYjyv0Ezsv16xQrgGGkeD44lv2cSO2Ro5y9HxwR-HsTjZ7-kBIiL1UGjg60hO7iCahO_URzS0O3YoW8exhlpGY6wH55_AGRgejsKqck8PrdqZ2wkPZPp4Ra7gdbgl/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_132641696.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>Sanford Biggers, Quilt 17 ( Sugar, Pork, Bourbon)</i> <p></p><p>My second favorite was a collage of old quilts, plus a section of curvy stripes made from sequins on a black painted background.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh75tDygR2PVE_Pumx5-ZKfrI034-WbLLGrFnwgXIbz0i77CljCfBwxbmM5hj-AI_O8PmvRX0JRj0Hp3hJHDHRJl9-g7A09Uc37ZaySIUan4WHjcHzh7IIqO_g0Z9kozspIH-FQ36P-fiFQOY8AeLcdrg95R7FSh3KvFVv-Ke_x_9DxesO53-xU7DCn/s4032/IMG_20220408_134158134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh75tDygR2PVE_Pumx5-ZKfrI034-WbLLGrFnwgXIbz0i77CljCfBwxbmM5hj-AI_O8PmvRX0JRj0Hp3hJHDHRJl9-g7A09Uc37ZaySIUan4WHjcHzh7IIqO_g0Z9kozspIH-FQ36P-fiFQOY8AeLcdrg95R7FSh3KvFVv-Ke_x_9DxesO53-xU7DCn/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_134158134.jpg" width="400" /></i></a></div><p></p><p><i>Sanford Biggers, Transition</i></p><p>I liked these quilts because they thoughtfully used large patterned shapes to contrast with and complement the smaller patterns of the vintage pieced quilts. In both cases there was artistry in the composition and care in the construction.</p><p>Sadly, I did not see those features in most of the quilts in the exhibit. The artspeak at the entrance to the gallery tells us "the quilts signal their original creator's intent as well as the new layers of meaning given to them through Biggers's artistic intervention." I searched in vain for the new layers of meaning in most of the pieces in the show.</p><p>As I mentioned in my first post about this show, I walked in the door as a Biggers skeptic, based on a bit of past knowledge of his work, but would have liked to like this show. Instead I was surprised at the strength of visceral discomfort that hit me in only the first two rooms of the gallery; all those beautiful antique quilts deliberately messed up with paint and tar to no apparent purpose. Perhaps it wasn't the defacing per se that bothered me -- I've been known to repurpose old quilt bits myself -- but the slapdash quality of the defacing. </p><p>I went to the museum with two friends, one an artist, one not. When we compared notes all three of us just wanted to get out of there fast. I wasn't there long enough to discover exactly what made me so unhappy, and for that I apologize. </p><p>The show will be up through June 26. I'd love to hear what other people think of it, whether I'm alone in my unease.</p><p><br /></p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-74862831696467006282022-04-16T13:18:00.001-04:002022-04-16T13:18:09.662-04:00Sanford Biggers at the Speed, part 2<p>More comments about the Sanford Biggers show. Not everything in the show featured messy paint applications. One of the quilts, stretched on a wood armature, had dramatic holes, bordered with black organza to give a striking shadow illusion.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitW7ouPYpWpZWZ63kmw8GOEra5v4ph0aomd7Wa4grMri13heAO6_i_1SRB7WTfIWs7NIlVFIwLNeJHNAg61luDoQ1dURIUSeiaOx7DFgOhxGrxD9sNbkGFep07j5gZZlJYY0TzNN7ehQLg6aNe7Ox1qOMEdIyyXi3eOyr7aMGaayshjtd0DMXmhEZc/s4032/IMG_20220408_133449629.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitW7ouPYpWpZWZ63kmw8GOEra5v4ph0aomd7Wa4grMri13heAO6_i_1SRB7WTfIWs7NIlVFIwLNeJHNAg61luDoQ1dURIUSeiaOx7DFgOhxGrxD9sNbkGFep07j5gZZlJYY0TzNN7ehQLg6aNe7Ox1qOMEdIyyXi3eOyr7aMGaayshjtd0DMXmhEZc/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_133449629.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>Sanford Biggers, Ecclesiastes 1 (KJV)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A similar see-through illusion appeared in an assemblage of six framed quilt sections, with some two-layer areas where the semiopaque frosted plexiglass was cut away to reveal a quilt about a quarter-inch behind. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zvwPxYbzOVTjSHv3b8M5WwgyrwMfcwJ6B-2OgBVaQ9EMaWHNPDxK-RYZGOFJwOmuNg2WKkRk3lCcZnDNV6ny_SntiGDXBeGULPZsC-vXnDJirCkiheKxGh_AWPrXiPHeodahS3FmJhDfQ_Ybk_5zruj9Dsgg2JMOwYksEtHX1OF-mjy1f2xs6Nss/s4032/IMG_20220408_132910192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zvwPxYbzOVTjSHv3b8M5WwgyrwMfcwJ6B-2OgBVaQ9EMaWHNPDxK-RYZGOFJwOmuNg2WKkRk3lCcZnDNV6ny_SntiGDXBeGULPZsC-vXnDJirCkiheKxGh_AWPrXiPHeodahS3FmJhDfQ_Ybk_5zruj9Dsgg2JMOwYksEtHX1OF-mjy1f2xs6Nss/w300-h400/IMG_20220408_132910192.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i>Sanford Biggers, Nyabinghi, detail below</i><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8_GKNKhqsMMY_e9b0NE1ekJDcrU85GyO9V8N9Ze9V0167YvOKiuANazYR1_raOb6rOlyQAV8vl6cO4MjMJG340BlyOUwSvXD9m9qZxAeoy3AVbhkx5JoOdoOMpdbaEUH5xrrlfYSDxqvk4zK_1c4WaImIgVY2dF1wmtdV6ndXjpyWC82vgy8sGR7/s4032/IMG_20220408_133004947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8_GKNKhqsMMY_e9b0NE1ekJDcrU85GyO9V8N9Ze9V0167YvOKiuANazYR1_raOb6rOlyQAV8vl6cO4MjMJG340BlyOUwSvXD9m9qZxAeoy3AVbhkx5JoOdoOMpdbaEUH5xrrlfYSDxqvk4zK_1c4WaImIgVY2dF1wmtdV6ndXjpyWC82vgy8sGR7/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_133004947.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Two of the quilts, both Tumbling Blocks, were overlaid with sequins and lame, glittering under the gallery lights. No paint drips on these, just fabric collage. </div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY50mcch7dUnLL5IV4WX5dEQKvLusriE8J1KYk7wUYXSBpxrawVFHrBMwm0_ro54RTyakVcPRfNI8igvkBqxnjFUOqJUEVnfuldd0MiTCEZEqjpXXrs25Dv-3VZJsZ8knaGlUQRy-z5dvpmyuUQ6ls2LSAkUVtH_IyxhywvaCEukB1P_SIpG91LzDB/s4032/IMG_20220408_133837346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY50mcch7dUnLL5IV4WX5dEQKvLusriE8J1KYk7wUYXSBpxrawVFHrBMwm0_ro54RTyakVcPRfNI8igvkBqxnjFUOqJUEVnfuldd0MiTCEZEqjpXXrs25Dv-3VZJsZ8knaGlUQRy-z5dvpmyuUQ6ls2LSAkUVtH_IyxhywvaCEukB1P_SIpG91LzDB/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_133837346.jpg" width="400" /></a><i>Sanford Biggers, Ooo Oui, detail</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Wn8G4YVAS8FTwzwOtxz_VgdG9vi_1ZdiXixHK8SN3uSH6GLsn5kz9oWHByfHKUhNwasTe0KUYpHCA-wMWGLbd2DlqnlK_ZM2O4JLT8bcvm12ZDVfaIf1c8bkW_zN-54o4XtJpHhVTD19iSfLEREs2vvwoeSKVEheknXJ3BKORDDFCKgMudDATnmS/s4032/IMG_20220408_133922249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Wn8G4YVAS8FTwzwOtxz_VgdG9vi_1ZdiXixHK8SN3uSH6GLsn5kz9oWHByfHKUhNwasTe0KUYpHCA-wMWGLbd2DlqnlK_ZM2O4JLT8bcvm12ZDVfaIf1c8bkW_zN-54o4XtJpHhVTD19iSfLEREs2vvwoeSKVEheknXJ3BKORDDFCKgMudDATnmS/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_133922249.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><i style="text-align: center;">Sanford Biggers, Ooo Oui</i><p></p><p>Several pieces were made by stretching quilt sections into wood-framed constructions. The first one we saw as we came through the exhibit was intriguing, made in part from American flag-motif quilts. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ORk8JvsLL9_NCSyqXMh1DaFmit_WgqyK9sCg6OoAcgBziNC7olbSVyEFTzS-NfRl6iqIfSVqsjWzsEaHE_5FnselzWPva5-HC0mJ9t-ewWb37Lb-2_FRhYCymH-S-mjrkQkO_fKbSpST55PZR5n4tXUGu1tqQYhNahU_tjJppqBZlkKPZlO9dKBB/s4032/IMG_20220408_132437237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ORk8JvsLL9_NCSyqXMh1DaFmit_WgqyK9sCg6OoAcgBziNC7olbSVyEFTzS-NfRl6iqIfSVqsjWzsEaHE_5FnselzWPva5-HC0mJ9t-ewWb37Lb-2_FRhYCymH-S-mjrkQkO_fKbSpST55PZR5n4tXUGu1tqQYhNahU_tjJppqBZlkKPZlO9dKBB/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_132437237.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>Sanford Biggers, Reconstruction, detail below</i><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL28Gtxa0b2vpA3CnW7NnBmymxksK65D64qkWcMHGDGb0gFmXu8mWN-0cr9fFU7mrr1w8HmNySxPQ0mSLI2z9mbcuYil_X7BTFgIjs7E-Fkky38PcASnYNSumj5dbChoNt7b1Qo6_5DD9YFG8lFsmk6eMaLVmSgX2d7f4u6ILLVFXa4jWWnRQWoNFD/s4032/IMG_20220408_132458603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL28Gtxa0b2vpA3CnW7NnBmymxksK65D64qkWcMHGDGb0gFmXu8mWN-0cr9fFU7mrr1w8HmNySxPQ0mSLI2z9mbcuYil_X7BTFgIjs7E-Fkky38PcASnYNSumj5dbChoNt7b1Qo6_5DD9YFG8lFsmk6eMaLVmSgX2d7f4u6ILLVFXa4jWWnRQWoNFD/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_132458603.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>But the next four or five, the same concept with slightly different construction shapes, all kind of looked alike, and the fact that they were hung too high on the wall to see most of the surfaces made them easy to walk past without stopping to look. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE03Cr4OtOWhXpcG0CpiCP2cmtE5z9AEDkohZh16wm7PmDLQG-XcFKhBJM5zc6NgE7atbUSNFFDC21wgyA3QqCVajo1VKESgEW5gR6RlyQ6qVo8dljKc3Cusn02Xg0eCUFQu3lYc2bGm8ryfpFMuVBvw6KVcFGRjdH1miPTQUdvBESSQUYEAZwx5Lq/s6225/three%20biggers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2425" data-original-width="6225" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE03Cr4OtOWhXpcG0CpiCP2cmtE5z9AEDkohZh16wm7PmDLQG-XcFKhBJM5zc6NgE7atbUSNFFDC21wgyA3QqCVajo1VKESgEW5gR6RlyQ6qVo8dljKc3Cusn02Xg0eCUFQu3lYc2bGm8ryfpFMuVBvw6KVcFGRjdH1miPTQUdvBESSQUYEAZwx5Lq/w400-h156/three%20biggers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Maybe I would have liked them better if all the "construction" pieces had been hung together for comparison, but they weren't.<div><br /></div><div>I'll give you the wrap-up report in my next post. </div><div><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-63989083345890509502022-04-12T11:35:00.001-04:002022-04-12T11:35:33.622-04:00Sanford Biggers at the Speed, part 1<p>The current blockbuster show at the Speed Museum is by Sanford Biggers, an African American artist whose shtick is to paint on top of antique quilts. I have been somewhat familiar with his work for several years; in 2017 one of his quilts was in another show at the Speed, and <a href="https://artwithaneedle.blogspot.com/2017/10/southern-accent-3-quilt-rising.html">I wrote about it in a blog post</a>. </p><p>I found some things to like in that piece, but I had two big reservations. First, Biggers made a big deal out of the false story that quilts were used as secret signposts along the Underground Railroad. Second, it hurt to see a beautiful antique quilt in fine condition used as a canvas. Surely he could have found a beat-up quilt to paint on!</p><p>So I approached the new show with some preconceptions, but resolved to keep an open mind. I lingered over the artist statement at the entrance to the exhibit, interested to note that he has backed off from his fake-history Underground Railroad statements. In 2017 the wall tag read "Some quilts were used as signposts for safe houses..." Five years later, we read "he was intrigued by the heavily debated narrative that quilts in some way doubled as signposts..." That's progress, I guess, and maybe in five more years he will acknowledge that this narrative is not heavily debated at all, just carelessly repeated by ignorant people. </p><p>But enough nitpicking, let's look at the quilts. I didn't keep a tally, but it seemed that most of them were in pretty good condition and were simply painted upon and hung on the wall without additional support. Some were in poor condition, and augmented by patching in pieces from other quilts, or collaging swatches of unquilted fabric, including several kimono pieces, on top. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRB4a2fyCDmJoP0ZWi0Lus7_TSmfOe42IWj5qM9KEXeXWp96vJNypZCbbqI0CcktrCdrM7OrP3_7fP05AA5sel1gZ-pEW6E5k13bq9t3KYXEm60wIQGW3bwX60zueB1D814ZxWe5ToTsVExZXsYXryQIbG2IWr8zw2s9vzkarNHG1kYYLKmXj1IIA/s4032/IMG_20220408_131844293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRB4a2fyCDmJoP0ZWi0Lus7_TSmfOe42IWj5qM9KEXeXWp96vJNypZCbbqI0CcktrCdrM7OrP3_7fP05AA5sel1gZ-pEW6E5k13bq9t3KYXEm60wIQGW3bwX60zueB1D814ZxWe5ToTsVExZXsYXryQIbG2IWr8zw2s9vzkarNHG1kYYLKmXj1IIA/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_131844293.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>Sanford Biggers, Hat & Beard, details</i><div><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_1IpDfiabNX5DVyV1Eyfc_N-WixTy877zHsHExpdMk83mtN8ZuoW_tO6wM_GB9JjwOF2rLLGpNKjn-z-5E2gRB7vdIWgQrRBva4G1HN1cnwf_qZPW3uDm8h8VzXp75Ygy7-qaZBizVAxpkEUZ-Tb3dymzzcftgBL_kSjayfuA6eh_pLfdkRhAb0A/s4032/IMG_20220408_131834763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_1IpDfiabNX5DVyV1Eyfc_N-WixTy877zHsHExpdMk83mtN8ZuoW_tO6wM_GB9JjwOF2rLLGpNKjn-z-5E2gRB7vdIWgQrRBva4G1HN1cnwf_qZPW3uDm8h8VzXp75Ygy7-qaZBizVAxpkEUZ-Tb3dymzzcftgBL_kSjayfuA6eh_pLfdkRhAb0A/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_131834763.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzQfXz8MIeo6itARjJWGqsMvh8Q8nodSo-fHVT4RsZ6f4PeW5ujdY_w8Cm4i3Bzdqb8qDASir9PxQeDLJ9I5IBDe1tQ1Gm0q477L7VVeLhdvB6jOxwqFRJprUzF3kQHelLJemII0pGactAACELotMbcE0SHfOgugRCwut5DBXGJ2g5thWtij5AEdl/s4032/IMG_20220408_131938601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzQfXz8MIeo6itARjJWGqsMvh8Q8nodSo-fHVT4RsZ6f4PeW5ujdY_w8Cm4i3Bzdqb8qDASir9PxQeDLJ9I5IBDe1tQ1Gm0q477L7VVeLhdvB6jOxwqFRJprUzF3kQHelLJemII0pGactAACELotMbcE0SHfOgugRCwut5DBXGJ2g5thWtij5AEdl/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_131938601.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Sanford Biggers, Hat & Beard</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Most of the quilts followed the same recipe: start with a quilt or quilt collage, paint loosely over the top, let the paint (or sometimes, tar) drip and blob. Some of them had intricate and meticulous stenciled designs, but almost always some area of deliberate mess.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhbHeNM182obYYZGduSvoLPX15jKIQpNmXd8jtcikTY4GEDEwMAvPFcAKHNTDeXBQdTL_iCfgzLMbgHPecoea10PCxL0tXkjftGL8x4wdhVB8O96UBsHciPdOYLpbKEqRiq6m-onaxaz-rGbvfLOs9DhzceSibKfaWIR_7pk-629x4nEDakBhu4tU/s4032/IMG_20220408_133234610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhbHeNM182obYYZGduSvoLPX15jKIQpNmXd8jtcikTY4GEDEwMAvPFcAKHNTDeXBQdTL_iCfgzLMbgHPecoea10PCxL0tXkjftGL8x4wdhVB8O96UBsHciPdOYLpbKEqRiq6m-onaxaz-rGbvfLOs9DhzceSibKfaWIR_7pk-629x4nEDakBhu4tU/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_133234610.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Sanford Biggers, Quilt 30 (Nimbus), detail below</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBthNtaBMWmD29fjSNjdQ0eocNaQrUs-1hjXWqgVFI1mK9NHgFmkShPjwBOViq2BUtZpIhs6-4QYFCzaUTm5-wh2W_y6oEolqUcCEyV1ksIhQ8S-CR5EyOqG6070DKzgGfUE3bFkguQs9dppc4pNPdwJjnvtOnZTC6qHExvcN59OdPFDX3B-aozeo/s4032/IMG_20220408_133252392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBthNtaBMWmD29fjSNjdQ0eocNaQrUs-1hjXWqgVFI1mK9NHgFmkShPjwBOViq2BUtZpIhs6-4QYFCzaUTm5-wh2W_y6oEolqUcCEyV1ksIhQ8S-CR5EyOqG6070DKzgGfUE3bFkguQs9dppc4pNPdwJjnvtOnZTC6qHExvcN59OdPFDX3B-aozeo/w400-h300/IMG_20220408_133252392.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can't describe the whole show in just one blog post, and probably not even in just two. So stay tuned and I'll have more pictures and thoughts soon.</div></div>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-588118538433483895.post-64228962593578152722022-04-01T11:32:00.001-04:002022-04-01T11:32:09.187-04:00Voice from the past<p>If you were reading my blog (or if you were reading the New York Times) during the summer of 2020, you may remember the silly series called Designer DIY that ran off and on in the Times, in which famous fashion designers came up with adorable sewing and craft ideas for readers to do at home. Mending and embroidering garments were popular repeat subjects, but making flimsy "jewelry" and handbags also showed up, as well as making a dress out of a pillowcase.</p><p>One of my favorites was the feature in which you were instructed on how to embroider your name on your sock. You were told to use an embroidery hoop, and here's a helpful drawing of work in progress:</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvhhgw6_vfWEKjAf3Q20C8-os5L93E1hBIYlcKDcoudUAqOEFuB_sL8aKF5gmd0xLFflWj7JhDmf0sh3AD7yxzE3CvUVxR3jRuVKvp0gd_C88BleFTauLyJ5UUMFjYt_EOX0McXS9YsatmHBUorm8eW4_AVdjhGWKk_lwNGjETZO6HcLUpEwTzv5c/s702/nytimes%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="697" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvhhgw6_vfWEKjAf3Q20C8-os5L93E1hBIYlcKDcoudUAqOEFuB_sL8aKF5gmd0xLFflWj7JhDmf0sh3AD7yxzE3CvUVxR3jRuVKvp0gd_C88BleFTauLyJ5UUMFjYt_EOX0McXS9YsatmHBUorm8eW4_AVdjhGWKk_lwNGjETZO6HcLUpEwTzv5c/w398-h400/nytimes%202.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from NYTimes Style section</td></tr></tbody></table><br />You (unlike the artist or the editor) will notice, of course, that it will be impossible to put the sock on your foot, since the sides of the sock are now sewed together.</p><p>I came to love these features, because it enabled me to write snarky comments about how lame the ideas were, and more egregious, how awful the directions were. If you have 15 minutes to fritter away on the internet today, <a href="https://artwithaneedle.blogspot.com/search/label/Designer%20DIY">you might want to read or reread these blog posts,</a> guaranteed to give you lots of laughs.</p><p>The posts led to a bunch of comments from my readers, many of whom urged me to write the Times and tell them how awful the series was. So I did. Sometime in the summer of 2020 I wrote a long letter that spelled out all the things that they were doing poorly, and urging them to clean up their act. </p><p>I wrote, in part: <i>"If your purpose in this series is to win brownie points in the fashion
community and give some designers a bit of free ink, then you have
probably succeeded, especially among readers who don’t actually try to
do the projects. But if your purpose is to give your readers projects
they can succeed at and feel proud of, you are failing miserably. I
suspect that the great majority of readers who do the projects are also
failing miserably, which I can’t imagine is building warm feelings
toward the Times.</i></p><p><i>"Perhaps
things would work better if you let the designers come up with the
ideas and let somebody who does actual handwork write the instructions.
Better yet, let somebody who does actual handwork come up with the
ideas too, so you could present projects that are doable and attractive." </i></p><p>I received no response, until this morning!</p><p>When I found an email, saying "Thank you for contacting the newsroom of The New York Times. We appreciate readers who share their feedback and help us report thoroughly and accurately. Someone will read your note shortly, but because of the volume of notes we receive, we cannot respond individually to each one."</p><p>I am so gratified that someone will read my note shortly.</p><p>Meanwhile, if you want to embroider your sock, please use a darning egg, not an embroidery hoop.</p>Kathleen Loomishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05930922068379938756noreply@blogger.com5