Category Archives: Continuing

The 22nd

Finn likes my heating pad almost as much as I do.

New manuscript, old manuscript, notes on both, laptop repository. It’s slow going. But at least it’s going. My consultant chisels here, there, making the form clearer, not unlike a sculptor working in stone. It’s pretty exciting, though also daunting because it turns out I don’t know jack shit about comma-usage.

Notre Dame + PCC image + paper collage + iPhone scribbles

The temperature is supposed to drop down to 29 degrees tonight. You’d be amazed at how many leaves are still in the trees.

PCC image + photo of bulletin board in my studio

Among the many upsetting manifestations of red wing lunacy and racism lately, today of all days it feels particularly awful that QAnon followers still gather in Dealey Plaza. People of a certain age remember exactly where they were when John F. Kennedy was shot. Where were you?

I was six (earlier I’d written eight! Fell asleep thinking wait, that’s not right). My mother was ironing and crying in front of the television. My brother’s birthday party was cancelled.

Textures of waiting

Here are two new collages with some mosaic variations. A one-minute slide show follows. Without spilling any beans I can say it’s about my book and the timing of assistance.

With newly revised timetable in hand, onward and upward. Must: write query letters; make progress on list of agents; write elevator speech for plot of novel.

In the meantime, I am soooo happy to report that my 30+ year old front crown was removed without mishap yesterday. The underlying post remained intact. No implant necessary. Yeah! I don’t even mind that the temporary crown, which I will get to wear to Los Angeles this month, is green. I kid you not!

I will leave you with two screen shots from yesterday and this thought: if I see Steve Bannon in handcuffs in November, Christmas will have come early — in spite of the faux outrage already being ginned up by the right wing.

A problem of volume

It’s one thing to vary photo layers and filters endlessly in a kind of obsessive and focused play. It’s another matter altogether to manage the volume of results. I get attached to these collages! What am I supposed to DO with them?

Cleaning up the downstairs study closet affords one idea: group images and print on both paper and cloth. I found print-ready silk, cotton, stickers, and loads of archival paper. What am I saving it all for?

Printing from my phone is a pain in the ass in terms of centering or sizing images, so I may have to go back to downloading onto PC and working through Photoshop elements. Ugh. I really want to preserve a body of work and in so doing, create another body of work, but I want simplicity of process!

Must also consider copyright issues. I cannot sell collages that use recognizable and/or untransformed work by other artists. Is that MOST of my collages? Maybe.

My vision of small booklets posted for purchase gets quickly dashed.

Today it’s wet. It rained hard throughout the night. I know because I was awake for a lot of it.

I’ll close with a few screen shots. Food for thought and images of — what else? — cloth!

From recent NYTimes Style section

Not much and so much

Want to start the week with the frank acknowledgement that between writing with others three mornings a week and editing my novel, I’m not able to show up here quite how I’d like. For now. Even with comments. Please be patient with me!

I took this photo in high school. It’s somewhere on Route 20 where the road loops over Lebanon Mountain, crossing from Massachusetts to New York. I think it’s just downhill from the infamous “Dead Man’s Curve.” It fell out of some shelf recently and I share it because it demonstrates the consistency and resilience of the house as motif in my work.

Scrolling backward to find a color xerox collage made in my early twenties, I tagged just a few recent house compositions.

Below is the piece I was hunting for. Two Isabella Street, Northampton — the last place I lived while a student at UMass. The photo was copied, cut up, fragmented, and copied again on what was then an absolutely ground-breaking and thrilling piece of technology: a color copier. It had a dial that allowed the scanner to apply different colorways. This copy shop was in San Francisco and I worked there and probably the only saving grace to that job was access to that Xerox machine. Now I can see that this red collage/color copy exhibits not only the resilient house motif, but a love for technology-aided variations (now done with filter in my iPhone). Somewhere, I have green and yellow versions of the collage.

Back to the binder! It’s cold and damp here today, which you might be able to tell from the shots from Finn’s and my walk this morning. The one of him lounging on the couch might have been taken while we were watching Stanley Tucci in Italy.

Ill at ease

A morning where the shoe doesn’t slide on, the electric cord doesn’t behave, ideas about the future won’t hold.

I walked to the dentist. The clouds enchanted me. The wind blew cold but we don’t really have winter around here anymore. It’s disorienting.

During various stages of lockdown, I got spoiled by calendar-months free of appointments. Now I have to catch up: mammogram, annual, endocrine check, another dentist visit, cardiologist.

Groceries came close to midnight last night. My bad. I expected them at noon. But that’s not all — onions that I bought by the piece last time were softball-sized, while this time they’re smaller than baseballs. The last time I ordered a sleeve of garlic, five heads arrived, neat as buttons in a mesh bag. This time: three. It’s hard not to wonder how much of the size-fuckery is intentional on corporate America’s part (and not, ah-hem, a function of ADD).

The silhouettes quilt is finished except for a sleeve on the back.

I turned one of the @threadcrumbshop moons into a sun.

I considered and rejected accentuating the circles in the B&W base fabric.

The quilt for Baby Girl M is pieced and about half-quilted. Unfortunately, one of the shows I’m watching now (Call My Agent) is in French, so I have to quilt or watch, can’t do both.

A month and a half ago, I anticipated that we would all be feeling intense relief on Inauguration Day.

Nope. Who here isn’t feeling dread? Who here hasn’t learned in no uncertain terms that trump’s army is gonna be reckless and violent for seasons to come?

Peace above us. Peace below. Peace behind us. Peace before. Peace all around. Peace. Peace. Peace. This is where Michelle’s voice would bring such wisdom and hope to us all and I miss her.