making marks on back with oil pastels while wondering, what is left of an experience years later and how do we mark it in consciousness?
Color copy of new version - with B&W figure in lower left. Abandoned brick/grape leaf background.
Using inkjet printer and prepared, commercially available fabrics - I print one copy on cotton; one on polyester organza.
Placed sheer version on top of partially quilted opaque version
This corner is too dark - so paint and ink to the rescue
Made 'suckers' from erasers out of the junk drawer
Scary to mess about with this much time in, but stamped with copper ink and white paint
Finished piece is edged with striped linen and stapled to wooden frame - you can't really see the quilting or the layering effect in this light
Octopus on the wall.
saved backing sheet to use under fabric as stitching guide
Backer sheet is below the green wool. I stitched from back, following lines. Very messy because toner is not set on page. To be continued.
P.S. Hope to fix picture resolution issues ASAP. I have been wondering why my pictures are defaulting to a 72 pixel resolution and looked and looked at my Photoshop settings, but it now dawns on me that perhaps it is a setting on my CAMERA that I changed (the file size while noodling with something else – will check and hopefully fix.
Just added another poppy to the Cement Sack quilt. This one is ON TOP of the tulle.
Transferred two black and white xeroxes onto coffee-stained muslin. The trombone did not come out so well, but a trident on the same page did. Both are in the upper left.
Here is that figure that has shown up in the Witness quilt and the wet-paper-basement-calamity collage. She is the one who dreams, who has seen, and who seeks to go beyond all that lodges in the past. She is part of all of us. This recent posture is one of burdened grief, but she has other moods as well.
Perhaps “moods” is the wrong word — “patterns of consciousness” more like.
And speaking of drugs (the opiate reference in the title), here is the holder of my current drug of choice — a coffee mug! Suitably chipped, stained, and very much in use.
A busy day of gardening and travel ahead. A good thing. A change of perspective and some fresh air will definitely do me good.
Three images to start. How does one start? Always a question. “How does one finish?”, also happens to be a question that plagues me.
Starting in the middle, or wherever one is, seems like sage advice, and I didn’t make it up. See Natalie Goldberg’s books on writing or just about anything by Pema Chodron.
We have snow and it is hanging onto the rooves and curbs, in spite of rain. At least we have power, unlike many in New Hampshire, or even just west of here in Worcester.
I would like to work faster and larger. The whole business of quilting takes a long, long time. It is a wonder I do it at all. But water?!! Brushes?!! More crap in the basement?!!
Last night a scary dream about becoming disoriented… unable to tell which way I came in, I turn, go some distance, turn again, go some distance the other way, hoping something will jog my memory.
Many of my quilts address the uncertain business of memory. Here is one from awhile ago, from a whole series that I made using poppies as the central image. Poppies are an apt symbol for our flawed process of collecting bits of ourselves in memory, because they both signal remembrance (popularized during World War I) and forgetting (think: opiates). The fragmentation of the design is no accident. One thing making quilts about memory, and even painful memories, has taught me in a graphic way is that the pattern of a life makes for beauty, no matter what the components.
"No Memory Poppy"
Julia Cameron says, “…by claiming our own memories, we gain access to the creative energy that they contain. Memories become a source, not only of inspiration, but of fuel.” In this quilt, I cut up a family photo (transferred onto fabric) found in a second-hand store. I wonder how the whole process would shift were I to use a photo from my own childhood.