Tag Archives: digital collage

Drought in New England

Old map of my neighborhood

When I tried to type “drought” in the title just now, it auto-corrected to “fright.” Exactly!

We are finally getting some rain, but it’s been bad, really bad — super hot and dry. Even that hardiest of perennials, the hosta, has struggled. I’ve dug up four shrubs and will likely have to dig up two more. Ferns have crisped and collapsed. Astilbe try valiantly, but barely make it despite daily watering. I’ve even been watering well-established trees for fear of losing them (NB: our reservoir, the Quabbin, has high levels right now).

It’s been a close-to-home wake up call for an area relatively immune to the drastic effects of climate change. Hurricanes are rare here. Tornados happen now again, but usually out by Worcester or Springfield. We don’t get flooding or wildfires and until now, drought was something that happened out West.

A dogwood that I planted at the elementary school years back doesn’t look like it’s gonna make it

A “flash drought” is nothing like the nearly decade-long drought in California, say, but it brings immediate consequences.

I read that a temperature change of 1.5 degrees would be catastrophic for forests in the Northeast.

This is not autumnal turning

No wonder some nights I feel the acid bloom of fear just as I’m dropping off to sleep.

Adding space

I used to work bigger more often. This smallish tower quilt was getting a rest pinned to the back of another quilt and I decided, after looking at it for a day, that I liked it with a surround of brown.

I went looking downstairs, fully expecting to have to make a substituon, but I found the very cloth!

Bigger surround wd allow yellow roof. Yeah or nay?

It is going to be hot today. Dog walk was sweaty. K has his five-year colonoscopy midday and of course he needs a ride. Because of the Covid numbers, I will wait outside. Hope there’s a patch of shade.

And below find yesterday’s collage results (some of them). Feel free to skip if you’re on Instagram!

This is Paris Collage Collective visual prompt for the week
This one is not a part of the series
Look for the fedora. It represents the rise of theocratic surveillance. The birth collage speaks for itself I hope.
Original birth collage made in 90’s, when I was, you know, giving birth.
One of the weird residual attitudes of having been raised Catholic is a lasting affection for all things Mary. In my universe, she is allied with the Divine Feminine and not Christianity.
Mary’s hand is a helping hand.
Yes, that’s Jeremy Irons. One layer here is another paper collage featuring the actor and paper doll losing her head.

Pics and a little sound

“white women’s tears”

We walked in the woods today. The frogs were LOUD.

Next door neighbor’s yard crew showed up for the first time this season today. After asking them to take their ladder off of my Rose of Sharon sapling near the curb, I retired to the basement. Two leaf blowers went on and on but I didn’t care. My new plan. My sanctuary!

Cleaned out three bins of fabric, worked on D’s quilt until I ran out of bobbin thread, and made this little collage, above.

The initial three-house black and white was a gelatin print made with a cardboard and onion bag resist.

We just had an early and simple dinner: grilled cheese sandwiches and leftover soup. For real sustenance, we listened to Biden’s speech from this morning.

Paper plus photo plus another photo (or two)

And so it goes, obsessively, with this weekly visual prompt challenge from the Paris Collage Collective. I’m sorry if this gets to be too much, but given how many iterations I produce, there’s this need to document at least some of them here.

When I cut the male silhouette out of a magazine ad (above), by removing his knee, the lower shadow took on the appearance of a dress which, by association, transformed the dreadlocks into the knots and folds of a head scarf.

On an unrelated note, the other night when I couldn’t sleep I stepped outside and walked across the lawn to shoot the moon between the branches of our big black walnut tree.

Just as I reached out to open the front door, a man made his way along the street. Dressed head to toe in khaki, middle-aged, he creeped me the fuck out. I mean it was 2:30. Maybe I shouldn’t have read Stephen King’s The Outsider?

Dancing or Fleeing – you tell me

First I double-exposed this week’s Paris Collage Collective’s visual prompt (above) with the famous Angel Oak in South Carolina.

I liked how the tree layer turned his body to lace in places and grounded him in place. However, it was dismaying to see how quickly the figure resembled a hunted Black man, particularly when red showed up.

Which is why I went and grabbed some images of Alvin Ailey dancers. I wanted the exercise to remain joyful — the trap of white entrancement with Black pain too easily fallen into. (I’ve posted about this before). Besides, I think by now we all know that Black joy is a form of rebellion. Maybe the best form.

These quickly became cluttered. And the prompt figure in many compositions continued to look like he was fleeing jeopardy. Is it just me?

I then overlaid the image with one of my script quilts. The texture imparted was interesting and I may go with it some more, but oh boy, there’s another pitfall — white people overwriting Black people’s experience with our dominant voices.

I may be overthinking things this morning, she said.

In other news, after working from home since March 13, 2020, Husband went to the office this morning. It’ll be two days a week.

There he was, holding his flashlight to illumine his sock drawer, quipping, “See? I remember how to do this!”

Moments later: “This blows.”

Being thirty years married, it wasn’t the constancy of his company that pleased me so much as how by subtracting a two hour commute, he got a lot more sleep. That’s important.

Also pandemic related: Finn has to lose weight! Tony, the biscuit-generous mailman, needs talking to and games of “Find It” out back need to go on pause (that’s where I throw treats all over the yard and tell Finn to “find it!”)

And speaking of walking the dog (I was, wasn’t I?), my hips barely hurt this morning. I’m encouraged. Maybe adding two more stretches to my nightly routine helped.