At a crossroads...of the rusty kind

How do you know when it's time to let go?

How do you know for certain that it is time to move on?

These are a few of the questions that I've been pondering of late - 

most recently this morning as most all of my rusted cottons and organzas 

were transferred from 3 work drawers into 1 storage bin.

Discharged cottons

as well as a few that were eco printed found their way into a second bin.

When visions of pieces yearning to be created flit through my mind, these days they are not of the rusty kind.

So...how do you know when it's time to let go? And just what form does letting go take?

Do I put the bins in the basement where out of sight will equal out of mind, but where they will be accessible if some future day finds me dreaming rusty dreams again?

Or, and this is a bit scary even though it is what my brain says makes the most sense, do I truly let go and offer the lot for sale as yardage? Fat quarters or bags of...bags of what exactly? Bags of rusted cottons? Would it be priced by the piece or pound? Would anyone even want it?

In truth, I feel as if I already have moved on...to tea bags and other scrumptious papers. Did I just answer my own question? Probably. But will I listen to myself? Hmm...

I could really use your help on this one. What do you do with old materials when you move on?

Thanks in advance!

Waiting = stitching

For over 10 years now, it's been a habit of mine to hand stitch during times of waiting - on trips when someone else is driving, on flights, during quiet moments in the morning, watching tv and, most consistently, since my little urchins started taking various lessons after school.

My bag nearly always contained a roll of black cotton and a pouch of brightly colored threads. The stitching was intuitive while varing direction, stitch length and contrasts. The action itself gave me joy, a sense of contentment. It came as a great surprise toward the closing of 2015 to find myself no longer enamored with this work. It had become a chore and ended up being undone most often than not.

One morning during that week between Christmas and New Year's, as usual I found myself downstairs before the house woke, wanting to hand stitch, but being a bit reticent to do so. My old way was not working and I knew it, but what next? Try stitching on white cotton? On my rusted cottons? Or on that pad of St Armand Canal black denim paper that I'd bought in Santa Fe? Hmmm...now there's an idea.

2016 waiting = stitching #1

I began with +'s by punching holes in the back for the rows

 2016 waiting = stitching #2

and then proceeded with this one. It was too much like what had come before and left me frustrated.

2016 waiting = stitching #3

This luscious paper wanted to be different. Wanted me to stitch in a new way. Wanted me to embrace the chaos that I felt around and inside me. So on the third piece, I punched holes and then more holes on the back 

 2016 waiting = stitching #4

before beginning to stitch...all the while promising myself to stitch only through the holes already punched,

 

  2016 waiting = stitching #5

to not look at the front and decide that another was needed just here...or right there. Just let go and accept what exists.

 2016 waiting = stitching #6

Acceptance = a sense of freedom  = many ideas on where to go from here.

2016 waiting = stitching #7 in progress from back

I'm enjoying this new waiting = stitching series very much and am trying to take it slow and let the process guide me and grow organically rather than to rush and get ahead of myself. 

By the way, if anyone knows where more pads of St Armand Canal paper in black denim (9 inches by 10 inches) can be purchased, would you mind dropping me a note? I'd be very grateful for the info. 

Perspective

Seems ages since I've been here - way longer than the little more than a month that it has actually been. The time away began as a byproduct of the holidays - too much to do and too little time so something had to give and the blog was it.

But as the holidays came and went, the time away allowed for much contemplation

and rumination as to what I hope to achieve in 2016.

All that thinking lead to changes in perception 

and perspective

regarding my art. 

2016 just might be a year of very creative art math - figuring out how 

1 = 15 and how + 1 more = 22.

Here's to fulfilling and creative year!

Waiting

What do you do with your waiting time? Those riding times - in the car, during a flight, on the train or a ferry ride even - when you're the passenger and can only sit and hope to reach your destination soon.

Let's not forget those other waiting times when your children or loved ones are engaged in an activity that you are present at, but cannot participate in. Right now, it's hip hop and piano lesson for me. My urchins aren't aware, but I so want to be in that hip hop class. Shhh.....don't tell.

For me, waiting = stitching. Hand stitching on black cotton using DMC threads. The stitching began back in 2006 after taking Dorothy Caldwell's workshop at Peter's Valley Craft Center and continues. 

The first finished piece became the covers for cards.

The next 2 pieces are in the studio...waiting for me to decide what the next step is in their journey.

I played with their perspectives, mine really, not long ago by laying a mat atop them to see what effect cropping would have.

This latest piece was completed on the flight home from Jamaica. It measures 43" x 13" and was started back in the fall with the beginning of hip hop and piano lessons after school.

I stand back and think that the whole is wonderful, but it's when I move in closer, get a bit more intimate with it that sections sing and beg me to single them out.

Still...I'm just not sure what to do with pieces. What would you do?

How was your week?

For some reason, I always seem to have a difficult time settling into the new year. The first weeks find me drifting along, unable to focus for long on much of anything. Lists are made and promptly lost in the clutter of the studio - so more lists are made, ideas jotted down on whatever is at hand and promptly lost or inadvertently discarded, etc, etc. It's a vicious cycle that can only be broken by one thing - a good decluttering of the studio. That done, I was finally able to be productive this week.

Much stitching took place while listening to several recorded books - Sarah Addison Allen's Lost Lake and First Frost. Next up is Alan Bradley's latest Flavia DeLuce novel, As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust.

While working on my piece for Silvermine Arts Center's Signed, Sealed and Delivered fundraiser,

the abstract left on the newsprint when ironing the excess bees wax out of the piece caused many new what ifs to spring to life.

We had a skiff of snow earlier in the week

which graced the rusty gears with just enough to be charming.

I played with photographing shadows

and yesterday morning's pre-dawn snow

which was heavy, wet

and perfect for making snowballs and snowpeople...or so I've been told.

You see, while the family ventured to the ski mountain yesterday (my little urchins are on the ski team's development squad this year), I trekked upstairs to the studio

where cutting, cropping, repositioning, stitching and bees waxing took place. 

It's time to heat up the iron and see what emerges.

How was your week?

Perspective

It all depends on how you look at it.

Is it better to see the whole?

Or the details?

Little by little, slightly shifting focus?

Should it be this way?

Or that?

In the studio

A sneak peek at what's been happening in the studio this week.

 Rusted, mono printed and discharged cottons,

hand and machine stitching,

signed and photographed.

Now for the editing and listing on Etsy.

Soon.

Rust boro #1

Woohoo! The first completed rust piece. 

Cue music...time to do the happy dance in the studio.

Rust boro #1, 2012

20" x 40"