Tag Archives: Collage

A way to go

In the past, the chakra work I’ve done was in-person and not just in-person, but in-person with people I knew and trusted over a span of many years.

We called it Sacred Meditation, as devised by Richard Moss. It both started and ended with the heart center.

A very different enterprise! I wasn’t quite prepared for how an unbounded exercise working from the root up would go. And even more, I wasn’t sure how much to share about what was arising. This is a public forum, after all.

Meanwhile, out in the world, a new confederacy was forming and the number of bodies falling from Covid kept escalating. Both staggered the mind.

I’ve emailed Acey. Let her know. Also suggested that my overwhelm was a testament to her intuitive power and how she communicates.

Would it make a difference if there weren’t absolutely catastrophic news stories unfolding like tidal waves? Perhaps.

After some more thought, however, I realized that I am brave and curious enough to keep doing these exercises.

Hear that? I’m pretty brave.

What I’m not prepared to do with any amount of ease or elegance right now is talk about any of it. So what? I’ll dip in and out and share the pictures. See how that goes.

Putting up the tree and collage

Putting up the tree — there’s that red silk again, draped at its base — brought home the hollowness of this upcoming holiday. There will be no gifts underneath. No flurry of excitement opening the gifts. No stockings stuffed with chocolates and homemade ornaments.

Before I go on: all I care about this year is that everyone stay healthy. That’s it. That’s all that matters.

Home Depot was packed. Worse, one of the staff bagging the trees wore her mask below her nose. What? I hated her just for putting us in the position of wanting to demand that she pull it up.

Note: Massachusetts case numbers are UP — way worse than they were back in March.

Having recently discovered (through the use of my new oximeter which also measures heart beats per minute) that my heart rate is often elevated, I walked away, turned my back, and breathed.

Fortunately, K didn’t need the sawing or bagging service and told her just to lean the tree on a rack while he paid. Loaded it himself.

I plan to turn my back on grievance more in the New Year.

Another example: my next door neighbor lets her yard fill with weeks’ worth of leaves before having her crew come which means when then arrive, we’re in for a long while of noise. Think: twenty five minutes versus two and a half hours.

I doubled up on ear protection and retreated to the cellar. Breathe! So, so preferable to gnashing my teeth, pacing to the windows to check progress, and feeling grievance.

The basement studio is a mess but nevertheless acts as refuge. Building on yesterday’s collage, I made a quick tracing of the surfer to use as a pattern.

Left side of silhouette needs work. I also found another collage (below) rife with female imagery and also created a simple new one — the lady with archeological find on her head.

Cookies are in the works. At least I can share THEM with the boys — as long as I can find a time when there aren’t seven or ten people waiting in line at the PO.

Thank you for the pecans, Jen!

I might have complained a while back about how I wasn’t about to go to Costco for the all important pecans. They had the best price, three recipes require them, blah, blah.

First, a Georgian friend offered to pick me up some. I declined (but thank you, Ms Deb Lacativa!) Then without telling me Jennifer, who hales from Alabama, went off and bought me a pound.

Tis the season to be grateful.

Pressure production

New collage made on Day 63.

Finn barks at compost pick up truck. K talks about pressure consumption. “I took the 5.6 and divided it by… ” And then pressure production. “The factor goes down, not that it goes up.”

Dog needs a walk. I need a walk.

Busy day yesterday and week feels cluttered going forward. How is this even happening?

Collage made today, below. The word I pulled out of the thesaurus as I started was “tabulate.” As in tabulate the damage done.

Brain damage. Chalk board counting quarantine days. Exotic luxury cupboard cut in half, never to go back together again. A clothes line reminiscent of domestic life during the Great Depression.

Seeds keep arriving in the mail! We have two quotes now for the backyard patio project. Some things continue apace.

I am finishing this garment tomorrow! Next up: something without pleats or plackets! Pieced a strip from mask scraps to use for collar and front edging. I like the idea but it may not follow the curves of the robe properly.

I raised the blue skirt an inch and a half and the proportions are much improved.

Spray paint, gifts, and rain

When I removed the house shapes after spray painting, I was reminded of Jennifer Coyne Qudeen’s work. She uses house silhouettes with marvelous invention.

The house silhouettes combined with images from the NYTimes Travel section with fantastic result (below). Even the tears make me swoon.

About to settle in for second Zoom writing class of the week, the one I’ve been part of for many years. This one I get to listen more.

Here’s a quick tour of my writing space on this rainy Thursday.

My son didn’t pack Jude’s strays and (ahem) I didn’t remind him. Someday soon, I’ll pop them in the mail to California.

Day SEVEN of HOME CONTAINMENT. I like that phrase better than self-quarantine or isolation. How’s it going with you all?

It was nice to come down to a ready pot of coffee but weird to hear a conference call about technical appendices going on. Fortunately, K didn’t have his camera on because when I walked in front of his screen his colleagues would’ve seen an old bird with weird hair who looked like she just woke up.

Clippings, ripping, and coronavirus

Last weekend I found another cache of images collected by my sister, small enough to save. There was the usual pile of cut up Kleenex boxes, too. Because this might be the last of them, I kept a few for the same reason she so industriously cut and collected them — as sturdy bases for future collage. I think the activity made her feel useful and maybe even, hopeful. But the number of times I opened a bag or box to find another stack of cardboard cut outs might amaze you. It stunned me, even knowing her habits.

Here, I combined a Noreen-clipped face (sleeping dark man) with a ripped up page from Collage Month (below).

The magazine page in the Collage Book didn’t lie flat so I scored the bubbles open and then, using the beautiful pens given to me by Ginny (thank you, Cousin!), applied a matte finish. It didn’t help.

So I ripped it up. This torn remnant interests me. And the rearranged strips do, too.

I’m gonna sew them together. But not today. The upstairs machine is threaded with pink and I want black. The pink stays to finish constructing C’s quilt.

In other news, K has a terrible cold which based on not much (belligerent denial?), he insists is not corona virus. He made three trips to China since the outbreak. His entire office is sick. But hey, I’m hysterical.

Have I said too much?

He’s probably right. But get this. We are a couple that delays and waits and discusses and delays and waits some more before getting a trip on the calendar. I don’t know why. That’s why it was somewhat amazing when we recently finalized a trip to Italy with little fanfare. Airline miles applied – BAM. Two Airbnb’s reserved — BAM.

Ah, now the rub.

Guess what European nation ranks third worldwide in corona virus cases? Guess what country now ranks having a big red dot on the Johns Hopkins tracking map? Is undergoing an outbreak bad enough for several cities to cancel school, shut down trains, and cancel big events?

Well, Italy of course.

In Milan, Ralph Lauren’s models walked the runway in an empty room. The Carnival in Venice has been cancelled. Trains going over the northern border are being stopped, temperatures taken. Between last night and this morning, 50 new cases erupted.

So, Savannah, anyone? Montgomery?