After reading Fiona’s post describing the making of her banner for Mo’s project (“I Dream of a World Where Love is the Answer), I decided I wanted my own embroidered “love”. So I stitched the word on a strip of walnut-dyed cloth just below an appliquéd heart. It seemed a good spot.
Have you noticed how often typing on a phone that one mistakenly types ‘live’ when one means ‘love’ or ‘love’ when one means ‘live’?
The quirks of a teeny iphone keyboard dishing up a philosophical message is emblematic of our age — for what is life without love?
To live is to love. To love is to live.
If one is loving, of course.
We were out of town this weekend and I got to witness the tender care my sister-in-law gave her 91 year old father. Did he need anything? Could she read his cards to him? Didn’t he look sharp in yellow and how about walking down the hall a little ways? I reflected on how my manner with my sister in no way approaches such soft, tenderness; how I could NEVER get her to walk down the hall a little ways; how impatient and defended I can be.
There are lots of reasons for the differences, reasons both exonerating and out of my control, but the weekend felt like an object lesson anyway.
Because it was also Kentucky Derby weekend, the guys made mint juleps.
The visits are always short these days and all the more precious for being so.
Given how enthusiastically I embrace TV nowadays, it sometimes amazes me to look back and recall how little I watched growing up, or in college. But one show I enjoyed was “Kung Fu”. When I added the silk image of a young person doing T’ai Chi to this cloth, the piece’s title suddenly and irrevocably became: Young Grasshopper. The scan of the boy came from a collage, which eventually became a SoulCollage card. I just checked my Flickr set and it isn’t there — another reminder of the stack of cards waiting to be photographed.
I am on the verge of deciding to make my own Tarot deck — I have wanted to for years, and so what stops? I think it helped to read about Mo‘s philosophy — that is, of enjoying (instead of avoiding!) the idea of shouldering a task which may extend beyond her born days. Definitely not an attitude I would normally cotton to.
More snow. And pounding rain last night. Some of the heaviest slush I have ever lifted (heating pad, here we come!) Because it was slush below and frozen on top, I had to chop it first with the half-moon edge-trimming tool. The good news? No water coming into the house ANYWHERE.
Three days ago, the ‘exclaiming’ heart (below, right) seemed to me a little bit cartoonish, funny, just this side of ironic. . . reminding me of Lynda Barry‘s work somehow (if even a little).
Today, it looks stunned. Vulnerable. And we are, with news that Jack has lymphoma. Either Stage III or IV. There is so much to say about it, and him, but I am at the tail end of a day that featured one thing after another, just about every hour and a half (most of it good) and the pull toward either my book (DeLillo’s “Libra”) or ‘the crap out zone’ (TV and a snack) is too strong.
I’ll leave you with two images — the first of one of the amazing catalpa trees towering in our yard. This time of year, the orchid-like blossoms tumble down the roof of our garage and litter the walk and plants below. Until they turn start to stink in rotting piles of brown, I feel like royalty… walking the petal-strewn path!
Connecting sections of Global Warming quilt, as opposed to keeping patches defined and separate. There’s that Indian meditation thread again, here representing unnatural radiating heat. I’m not sure it’s staying.
This is the finished “Waiting for Jessie” quilt. It had a strange history (see below) with much cutting and moving of pieces. I started with a lot more purples. At one point there was a little Japanese doll fabric square in the border. The moon was bigger. When the quilt resurfaced after a long hiatus of being hidden in a pile, I renewed my efforts to finish for my friend’s birthday in July (originally it was for her 50th – and made during a time when she was often up late waiting for her daughter to get home. Now that daughter is a senior in college and her younger child just graduated from high school!!).
A couple of weeks in, during this round, I found myself hating the raw-edged trees with their zig-zag stitching, but wasn’t willing to begin again, so I kept embellishing to try and make them ok. Added some mottled red kimono silk as a path. I like that path.
But, the trees never really got to a place where I think they are ok. I added some batik that looked like trees, and that helped, but mostly because it distracts you from the trees in the central square.
Because the process was a series of problem-fixes like that, and because I was trying to incorporate some new approaches as well (prime among them – more embroidery), it’s not surprising that it’s not quite a fully realized piece.
But this is how life goes (or mine does anyway). We start. We change our minds. We botch. We fix. We experiment. And, at some point, it’s good enough.