Cool new toy, now I just need time to play

Just received a box of supplies from Dharma Trading, which included a little indulgent gift to myself: a new tjap from Indonesia. With all of the holiday mayhem I have no idea when I'm going to get to use it.

The prayer flag piece (see Dec 6) is faced and just needs a label and rod pocket to be officially done. I'm not posting any more pictures of it until I can actually make time to take a decent one. I've also got to come up with a proper name so I can stop calling it "the flag thing."

Have I discovered a blogging "don't"?

The blogging thing works for me, more or less. I even like the idea that sometimes people read what I write and even comment on it. What I don't like is the fact that it reveals my imperfection as an editor of my own writing. As with my private journal, I find it interesting to read what I've written days, months, or even years after the fact. It can be a great stepping off point for refection. That is, unless I find that I've published grammatical errors and typos for all the world to see!

So, since I'm not a great proofreader, I suppose I need to:

• Not read my own stuff; or
• Forgive myself for not being perfect; or
• Be prepared to make occasional corrections.

Just what I needed: another growth opportunity.

I didn't know you could do that

I love my thermofax machine. (For a very short description of what that is and what one does with it see this site by Karen Stiehl Osborn). This is just about the best thing that's happened to screen printing in years. It's so much easier than preparing and burning photo silkscreens.

As noted on Karen's page, I've always been told that the screen material needs to go through the machine with a photocopy because it's the carbon on the surface that causes the plastic screen backing material to burn away. That's all well and good if you've got a photocopier or laser printer in your studio, which I do not. On a lark I tried running a test piece of paper painted with black tempera paint (Pearl Paint) through the thermofax. And, what do you know, it worked great. Charcoal works too. The charcoal seems obvious--it's carbon. The tempera paint was a surprise. I don't know if there is carbon in the black paint, if something else is making it work, or if other colors would work. I'm just happy it works!

I made the screen below by making a quick gesture drawing with tempera paint in a dental syringe. The printed fabric is built on top of the result. The fabric is a bit too cute for most of my purposes, but it was fun to paint. I think it might turn into the lining for a scarf.

Pre-holiday madness

I'm ahead of schedule this year. In other words, I've already had my pre-holiday meltdown over the fact Dan and I have bought into the whole "Christmas machine". This year we're actually trying to do something about it (the machine and the meltdown). We're trying to scale back the gift-giving, and the insanity of holiday baking has been axed in favor of NOT gaining 10 pounds between Thanksgiving and New Years. We decided to do our annual end-of-year/holiday letter and send it along with holiday cards. God bless Dan: we wrote the letter together, he bought the cards and stuffed and licked fully 90% of the envelopes. (Why can't they make envelope adhesive taste like something good--something like single malt scotch).

The crazy organizing spree has wound down. The clutter is definitely feeling a little lighter. The sewing room's even clean enough to work. I'm trying to balance my time between printing and sewing. When I concentrate too much on one I miss the other. Though to be honest I could probably print cloth until drop.

The piece that I kept overdying earlier over the summer has turned into this, as shown in my post from September 16.

It sat for a while, but has finally turned into a piece about prayer flags, inspired by a community craft project at a church retreat. (Wikipedia page on Prayer Flags). The photo below shows a corner of the piece, which I'm still quilting. The "flags" are all raw edge pieces stitched only along the top. If you click the picture you can see some of the quilting detail and get a better look at the flag construction.

I'm pleased with the way this is turning out. I'm also surprised and delighted that I've got two pieces in work now that I think are worth showing. It's a first for me to have one; let alone two.

Therapeutic cleaning or a manic fit?

I never really know where a cleaning fit comes from. Over the years I've come to recognize that they're often linked to a need to control or organize some part of my life in order to balance out the feeling that another part is out of control, or perhaps just beyond my control. I took a "vacation" day on Friday because I have unused leave that I need to burn up. (That's a topic for another post.) I thought I would get in some good studio time, but I needed to tidy up just a little bit first because my work space was a mess. The sequence of events that followed is too circuitous to retrace, but somehow it led to cleaning out the attic, shredding old financial records, rearranging the storage in the studio/office (such as it is), and beginning to load our entire collection of CDs into iTunes. So far I've filled two large trash barrels and the recycling bin. This is a good thing. Sometimes these cleaning jags amount to little more than putting things away, but don't really lighten the load of accumulated stuff.

As I've been cleaning I've been continuing my meditation on lines. While we were in Philadelphia I took pictures of things that were catching my eye. It was all linear.

I've always loved street grates. As a kid I remember being afraid to walk on them because I thought I would fall in. Now, they're just enticing patterns. The shot of the buildings is intriguing too. My photo collection is full of numerous similar frames. The color of the buildings, the strong angles, the clarity of the sky, the value range, and the irony of the sign for "Parking" of which you can only see "Park". This street was hardly a park.

I've been doodling the middle of the two frames all week. I started out with careful sketches, moved on to things with lots of crosshatching, and finally ended up with rapid gesture drawings. These feel really good. I'm going to try exploring that a bit more.

Philadelphia Craft Show weekend

It was a whirlwind trip, but every second of it was fabulous.

We started out at the Snyderman-Works Gallery for the Nancy Crow exhibit called, "Crossroads: Constructions, Markings and Structures". I'm not sure what to say. It was energizing. I really need to go back and visit it several more times, but I'm going to have to rely on the catalog for that. Many of the pieces are similar to the linear designs that appear in her recent book and to the striking piece featured on the gallery postcard (below).

Other pieces, which I was told are newer, were black and white (or muted tone) geometric line work. They're wonderful compositions (some whole cloth) that clearly evoke traditional pieced patterns but have the spontaneity of something from a sketchbook page. The show also includes a number of other screen printed and monoprinted pieces. I don't feel a strong desire to copy or reinterpret any of Nancy's work, but the graphic quality, the strong linear design, the color choices, and the amazing command of value were inspirational. I've got some new ideas.

So, with a head full of all of this (and after a 2+ hour car trip) we needed a little lunch before venturing into the craft show. Dan and I have been going to the Baltimore ACC show for a few years and have also become regulars at the Smithsonian craft show. This was our first Philadelphia Museum of Art show. We both came away impressed with the quality and the variety of the work. It was a great show. Not too big or too small, and most important of all PLENTY OF FIBER. We got to see a few old friends and meet some interesting new folks.

As usual the Darwall booth was a feast for the eyes--all color and texture. Through our friendship I've been able to pay close attention to his work for a number of years. It's fascinating to watch it change and evolve.

Karen Henderson was showing some of her amazing weaving. If you've ever been to Peters Valley and made the dusty drive on Thunder Mountain Road out to the fiber studio, then you would instantly recognize the colors of the woods and the wetlands in Karen's work. They're simultaneously peaceful and fascinating.

I was also impressed by Marcia Derse's booth. She was showing lovely small quilted pieces made from her own hand dyed cloth. On the pieces that I spent the most time with I noted that she leaves her edges raw, rather than bound or faced. She also presents the finished piece attached with Velcro to a natural wood frame. With a little overhang the piece appears to float on the wall. I love the look. I've never seen this approach to finishing before. Perhaps others are doing it, but it was my first exposure.

There was also excellent pottery. For me the highlight was Akira Satake's slab-built vessels. He said he forms the slab, allows it to partially dry, applies white porcelain slip to one side, let's that dry, then manipulates the slab. The way he described it he lifts it over his head and smacks it on the table to fracture the slip. After that comes the formation of the vessel, more glaze, etc. The result is striking. It's organic. It reminds me of birch trees or, in some cases, the pattern left in the sand by receding waves. Here's a picture. Yes, it sitting on our dining room table. I should have my credit card propped next to it! It was not a purchase that either of us intended to make, but it was one that I knew I would regret not making. It's just phenomenal. In the photo you can see Hilary inspecting the new addition to the decor.

I've got snap shots of bit and pieces of the city that I'll save for another posting. I came home thinking about lines--the lines in Nancy Crow quilts, the lines in Akira Satake's pots, the lines in the street grades, the lines in the iron work of the fire escape outside our hotel room window. There's something bubbling there--drawing lines with dye, screening lines, stitching lines, tearing cloth, strip quilting, lines that don't line up......

A dry spell

A dry spell. That's all I can think to call those times when I stop writing. I go through these same cycles with my private journal. Once, after writing almost daily for over a year I just stopped. Sometimes it's because I get too close to something and would rather run away than face it. Other times it's because I just need a break. I tolerate these spells, and yet I'm always painfully aware of them when they're happening.

So, why haven't I written a word for precisely a month and a day? I'm just not sure. This time I think it's mostly because I've been so busy with work and other things. It's been all I can do to sneak in time to sew or print. Writing has taken a backseat. Now I'm starting to get the feeling that the writer in me is tired of sitting in the back of the bus.

For these last few weeks busy has included course work for my last year of a 4-year extension course called EfM--Education for Ministry. It's adult learning at it's best: lots of reading and discussion, but no tests or papers. In 4 years you cover a survey of the core seminary curriculum, without the preaching, field education, and the like. The first year of the program is Old Testament (mostly Torah and the prophets, with a bit of wisdom literature). Year 2 is New Testament. Years 3 & 4 are church history and contemporary theology respectively. It's a nice overview, but how much of Hegel and Kierkegarrd can you really pick up by reading one cursory chapter on each. Anyway, a night of reading and a night of class effectively kills 2 nights out of the week from now until early June.

I also somehow managed to accept the "opportunity" to co-chair the Rector Search Committee at my church. Our Rector left over the summer. Now that we have an interim in place, this Committee is conducting a search for a new permanent Rector. It's sort of like an executive search only many more people are involved, it takes 12-18 months, and it's a lot of volunteer work. And I said yes to this because...?

Just so you don't think life is all work, I must confess that I've been having some fun. Dan and I spend last weekend in New Jersey. Friday/Saturday we were with Dan's brother, our sister-in-law (Omie) and our niece and nephew. It was Omie's birthday so in addition to the family celebration, she and I slipped away for a couple of hours in Clinton. We went to see Kerr Grabowski's show at the Hunterdon Museum. It was fantastic. The show was called "Art To Wear". It should have been called "Art to Die For"--or may dye for. I'm always amazed to see work that I instantly recognize, something that bears the mark of the maker in a way that's unmistakable without being cliche or repetitive. In this case you look at the work and say, "This is Kerr's".

I desperately need a new camera that takes something besides fuzzy pictures, but you can still see even in these mediocre shots that the show was amazing.

The weekend ended on a delightful note. Sunday, on the way home Dan & I stopped to visit Rayna Gillman & Marty and shared a delightful little brunch. "Come by; I'll get some bagels" turned into a banquet. She was such a wonderful host, and we had great fun sharing art and telling stories. I'm smiling as I write this. It really was a great visit.

This weekend is equally full of promise. We leave early tomorrow morning for a whirlwind visit to Philadelphia. Dan is being so indulgent. We going to see the Nancy Crow show at the Snyderman gallery, then heading off to the convention center for the Philadelphia Museum of Art Craft Show. It only occurred to me after we'd made the plans to check the lineup of artists and I was thrill to see that we get to visit with our friends Randy Darwall and Brian Murphy. It should be a blast.

Progress on all fronts

All of the computer swapping and rebuilding is finished. I can see great patches of the desktop and I'm cautiously optimistic that by week's end it could actually reach a state that one could honestly call tidy.

I had the day off and it was a great one to spend indoors. It's just not supposed to be 95 degrees in October. It's was lousy weather to be outside, but it was also perfect weather for discharging--HOT. I worked on three pieces with thickened thyox (and a good many drops of sweat). You could practically see the stuff working as I was applying it. Everything is still drying on the clothesline and it's took dark to see outside, so no pictures until later this week.

On a completely different topic, I heard a very interesting sermon yesterday. The two points that remain with me are:

• That we should periodically assess how much our life reflects our values; and
• That our creeds--those doctrinal statements of belief for which people has died for centuries--need to be considered thoughtfully.

For example, the opening words of the Nicene Creed, "We believe" are most recently translated from the Latin word, "Credo," which can be read as "to believe" or to "trust in." We've lost touch with that latter meaning. At least I feel that I have. On some level, "believing" is about acknowledging facts, while "trusting" requires an element of faith. Taking it further, I would even say that in the post-modern sense it's possible to trust in the essential truth of something even in the absence of all facts.

So, in what do I trust, and am I living my life in a way that reflects that value system? I'm not going to answer that question here and now. Suffice to say that I feel that I've still got room for improvement, but I'm working on it.

I have to give credit where it's due, the sermon was by The Rev. Martha Wallace, the new interim rector of St. Andrew's, College Park. So far she seems like a very good addition to our community.

Preparing to resurface (I hope)

I'm scandalized when I look at the date of my last post in mid-September. Where has the better part of a month gone? I'd love to say that I've been on some exotic vacation, but no such luck. I've just been buried in the details of work and daily life and having a crazy-busy time at work.

In the midst of that we bought a new computer--a Macintosh, thank you God. This has been an anxiously anticipated switch from our previous Windows machines. As much as I love the thing, getting all photos, music, and Quicken stuff transferred over has been a little less straightforward than I hoped. At this point the end is clearly in sight. As if in protest, the Windows computer off of which I've been moving data seems to have just "shit the bed" as they say in the industry. It looks like a virus. I'm going to scavenge as much as I can then rebuilt the thing.

As I tell this story I realize that this might be an opportune moment to come clean about something. One of my alter-egos is that of digital toy geek. As I write this, I'm sitting in our home office / sewing room. So, it would stand to reason that the room contains a computer and a sewing machine. And that's true, but it's also the tip of a somewhat larger iceberg that includes:

• The embroidery module for the sewing machine
• A serger
• My old embroidery machine that I'm planning to sell
• My second sewing machine, with which I can't bear to part
• Our oldest computer, which is headed for the recycle bid
• The second oldest computer, which is also on the way out
• And finally, the computer that I'm about to rebuilt, which will be the new embroidery computer.

I swear, a month from now the place is going to be so much better. It's got to be, because the clutter is starting to drive me crazy.

I took a couple of hours today to work on a three pieces of fabric. I'm collecting for a quilt and have almost reached critical mass. Here's the most recent stuff.

Well, it's different.

I continue to work on the "unsatisfying" piece with the red square. Since I last wrote I've done three things to it:

• I applied soy wax in a concentric square pattern over a lot of the surface using a tool that I made from copper wire. Then, I screened the whole thing with varying intensities of dark green. This had real potential until it all washed out. The screened dye had no activator in it, so I heavily misted the entire piece with a soda ash solution, wrapped it up, and kept is warmish for about 10 hours. I've done this successfully in the past, so I expected good results. I'm guessing my problem was some combination not enough soda ash, not enough time, and not enough heat. It would probably have been OK if I'd steamed.
• On my second time around I applied more wax with the same tool (all of the first application was gone). This time I opted for a low water immersion dye bath use a recipe of "olive", which for some reason produced a deep blue-green. Unplanned, but OK. After a few hours I was rinsing it out the backyard and got a little frustrated that it looked too dark, so I decided to attack it with Soft Scrub with Bleach. I spread the wet fabric on the driveway and painted on some square and a few drips. Sometimes a little frustration can be productive!
• After a good washing and pressing I began doing some work with fabric paint last night to try to bring the focus back to the red square.

Here it is before the fabric paint.

Next steps? I'm considering some applique or reverse applique of a couple of squares of other fabric to reinforce the square shape, which seems to be what this piece is all about.

Dye mixing experiment

In my Sept 10 posting I said that I was having some problems mixing print paste using ProChem MX 108 (Sun Yellow) but no other color. I called ProChem tech support and explained that every time I mix this particular dye with a thickener (ProChem Print Paste or Dharma Sodium Alginate) the thickener curdles like tapioca and is virtually unusable. I got the impression from their rather candid response that they were really stumped. The bottom line from ProChem was:

• The age of the dye powder (18 months) shouldn't cause this sort of behavior.
• They've never heard of anyone else with this problem.
• Mixing the dye powder with chemical water versus tap water shouldn't cause or prevent this problem.
• The thickener shouldn't be an issue either.

We discussed some possible experiments and agreed to stay in touch if either I or they came up with any conclusions. So, tonight I went to the basement to "play mad scientist," as Dan put it. Here's what I did.

I wanted to try several different thickened dye mixing procedures with controls for temperature of the thickener (which I store in the refrigerator), and the solution used to dissolve the dye. First I mixed a batch of Urea Water using the receipt on the ProChem website. Then I mixed two dye solutions:

• 3/4 tsp dye powder + 2 Tbls TAP WATER
• 3/4 tsp dye powder + 2 Tbls UREA WATER

I then measured out approximately equal amounts of sodium alginate thickener (about 10 days old):

• 2 bowls with cold alginate right out of the refrigerator
• 2 bowls with alginate that I had warmed to slightly above room temperature

I mixed the 4 possible combinations and discovered the following.

Dye really does dissolve better in urea water.
In the pictures below equal amounts of dye were dissolved in equal amounts of solution. On the left, the urea water produce a clear, well-dissolved mix. On the right, the tap water solution never fully dissolved and had bits of undissolved dye at the bottom of the cup.

Sodium alginate thickener is much easier to mix at room temperature.
The dye solution incorporated faster and the mixture returned to a smooth paste quickly in room temperature alginate. The cold alginate was gloppy (that's a technical term).

At the end of mixing the 4 batches I had failed to recreate the disastrous tapioca effect, so I just dumped everything together into one bowl and started mixing. I figured it was perfectly good dye; why waste it? And what happened!? It didn't curdle completely, but somewhat. My theory is that when I dumped the incompletely dissolved dye/tap water solution into the whole mix I also dumped in all of the undissolved bits at the bottom of the cup. In the controlled experiment I measured spoonfuls from the surface of the mixture and probably got few if any grainy bits.

So, while I don't have the time or patience to delve further into the science of what's happening here, my general conclusion regarding how to mix print paste with this particular color of dye powder (which should probably be applied to all colors) is:

• Bring the thickener to room temperature before mixing in the dye solution.
• Dissolve dye in urea water instead of tap water.

I almost wish I was back in high school so I could squeeze a science project out of this little exercise. Who knew that art could be so fussy?

New work, none of it finished, some of it scary

I did a bunch of errands Saturday morning, then managed to carve out the entire afternoon for printing. I ended up with a lot of red, blue, and orange, which certainly aren't a bad family of colors, but I was really in more of a green mood. Unfortunately I think there's something wrong with my year-old jar of sun yellow dye powder (ProChem MX 108). When does this stuff go bad? Every time I mix it into sodium alginate paste it curdles the alginate. It's very weird. Other colors of about the same age behave normally. I'm mixing the dye powder with straight water (i.e., no urea) then stirring it into the alginate paste. The result is like scrambled eggs. Would a little urea or metaphos made a difference in this case. We don't have hard water here so I'm thinking the answer is no. This might be a question for Vicki Jensen.

Anyway, here's Saturdays work. I don't know if these are going to get more work or just get set aside for piecing.

And, in the interest of semi-full disclosure, here are before and after shots of a yard of rayon that I tried to "improve." You be the judge. I think it might look a little bit better in person. Ironically, I was trying to deemphasize the small red squares, which I didn't like. I screened brown squares over almost all of it and it seemed too dark. I did a little discharging and now it looks sort of distressed--or maybe I mean distressing. This might be a foundation for some heavy applique.

On the passing of an artist

I learned today that the author Madeleine L'Engle died or September 6 at age 88. She is perhaps best known for her award-winning children's book, "A Wrinkle in Time," which won the John Newbery Award in 1963 and has since sold millions of copies. She also wrote many books for adults, some of which deal with her spiritual life. She was an Episcopalian (my team) who was devoted to both her faith and her craft. She was at one time Writer-in-Residence at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City.

Last year I read, "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art," and found it more than just interesting--it was eye-opening. It's from her that I first heard the idea that art, made in a spiritually open way, has the ability to place the artist into the role of "co-creator" with God. Amazing stuff, and just what I needed to read at the time, as I struggled to find balance in my own life.

Eighty-eight years is a good long run. Can I mourn the passing of someone I didn't know, who lived a thoughtful and productive life, and died peacefully? Perhaps not, but I think I harbored some small idea that someday I might meet her, even though she was no longer making public appearances. I suppose that meeting will have to wait.

Labor Day weekend in Rehoboth

Dan & I are spending Labor Day weekend in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware with our friends Howard & Patrick and a whole cast of other close friends and dogs. The weather's been beautiful enough to make me almost forget rest of the scorching summer. It's been temperate, breezy, and sunny since we arrived Saturday morning. After three days at the beach my freckles are starting to coalesce.

Time here is pleasantly unstructured, but it's always anchored by morning coffee and newspapers on the front porch. The newspapers don't seem to get a thorough read until later in the day because this initial perusal is always accompanied by politically astute, extremely liberal, terribly erudite, and witheringly witty conversation. It's 4-8 gay men in their 40s and 50s holding forth on politics (local, national, and international) Washington gossip, theatre, film, literature, food, and of course the lives, wardrobes, and foibles of friends. It can be a bit intimidating at times, but always interesting. I've heard a lot of ideas expressed on this porch over the years: love, happiness, frustration, anger, but never hate. I think that says something about the shared values of my family of friends.

It's been a nice time to catch up with friends, eat and drink a descent amount, and do not too much of anything else. I always bring things to read and they almost always go untouched. I've done a few overdue e-mails to friends. Now I'm writing this from the front porch, enjoying a few moments of late afternoon solitude. By sunset they'll be 4 of us left from the group of 10 yesterday. It's the beginning of a quiet end to a quiet weekend before we return to work on Wednesday. Not bad. Not too bad at all.

Tonight, fewer words and more pictures

A piece that's nearing completion

I don't know if I have a good picture of an earlier stage of this piece, but it's a bit of printed cloth I brought back from Peters Valley. When I started working on it again the yellow and green areas were printed. I did some hand stitching with black embroidery thread to add a little detail in a few areas, but that wasn't giving me what I wanted. So, I used a free-motion couching foot on my sewing machine to add the back yarn outlines. You can probably see that better in the detailed picture below, or by clicking on this one to enlarge it. The black lines helped a lot, but then I was troubled by the white background, so I scribbled in some color with a few caran d'ache water soluble crayons then blended with diluted ProFab extender and a bit of brown paint. Very fun and a good effect.

In this shot you can see circles of couched yarn that I used to fill in some of the open circles. I started out as a kind of weak green--nothing that I little dye wasn't able to fix. I think I might be dying some more cotton yarn soon. A this point I just need to do the final trimming and binding. Right now I'm letting it rest for a while to see if in needs anything else.

Other pieces in work

Here's somethings else that came from Peters Valley. I like the big red square, and there's something good, but perhaps a bit weak going on with the other colors. The small red squares are a awful. This is the before shot. Since then I've screen blocks of brown over the whole thing and now I think I'm ready to start discharging. I've very hopeful.

This one's a batik from a few weeks ago that I pleated, clamped, and over-dyed with turquise to reduce the contrast. I'm tempted to cut it up, but I really like the overall linear pattern and think that I can make something out of it as the background for whole composition. There needs to be more dye and I'm thinking that some applique might be in this one's future.

After a busy weekend, at the start of a busy week

Yes, busy is the name of the game these days, but it beats the hell out of bored. Let's see...where to begin. Well for starters Dan's Mom, Cynthia, rang up last week and said she figured that our calendars appeared to be in one of their rare states of alignment, and shouldn't she come of a visit over the weekend. Of course Dan and I were both delighted and set about the task of clearing piles of my junk out of the guest room. We picked her up at BWI on Saturday morning and spent the lovely 100-degree day museum-hopping in Baltimore. Cynthia's a quilter, and as luck would have it, we were able to assemble a very nice fiber-focused itinerary.

We started off at the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA) to see the NUNO exhibit. I read about NUMO (a Japanese textile manufacturer) in the last issue of Surface Design and was delighted to find an exhibit practically in my back yard. It's cool stuff, and the thought and design process behind it is fascinating: things like wrapping up rayon with wet rusted iron plates for a couple of weeks, sandwiching feathers between layers of dyed silk, and reproducing the look of rubber bands scattered on a windowsill. The presentation was beautiful. It was a small room in a quiet part of the museum and each piece was presented as a hanging 2-3 yard length of plain cloth. No fuss with binding or the like. It was very much an "art cloth" style of presentation. I came away with a few ideas: rusty nails for one.

For me no visit to BMA is complete without stopping to see the fantastic collection of Matisse in the Cone collection. I'm utterly convinced that if Henri were with us today he would be a fiber artist. We talk about artists who do surface design having a "painterly" style. Well, I look at some (not all, but enough) of his work and I see painted/printed cloth. Yes, of course he painted on canvas, but I mean some of it I want to cut out of the frame and curl up with it. He even include textiles in his paintings--detailed rugs and wallpaper. I'm right about this. He's one of us.

After a little nosh at a greasy-spoonish sort of diner along Howard Avenue we were off to the Walters Art Museum. Oh. Oh. Oh. I'm ashamed to say that I never knew this place existed and it's right in the heart of the city (even in a good neighborhood!). We only left because they threw us out when the place closed at 5. It's a beautiful small-to medium sized museum with a lovely and well-curated collection of paintings and an impressive collection of a Greek, Egyptian, Roman, Etruscan, etc. objects. Cynthia managed to find a mummified cat! (Hillary's sitting on the table as I write this and I just can imagine wrapping her up like a buritto and keeping her around for all eternity). So, the fiber connection: it was the second-to-last day of the show "Gee's Bend" the Architecture of the Quilt." This is the second Gee's Bend show and I enjoyed it as much as the first. Just as with the first show, which I saw at the Corcoran a couple of years ago, I was struck by the fact that these women, by their own admission, were trying to keep their families from freezing. They needed to cover their beds. But, even in the midst of that intensely practical concern, even after a day of hard work, their God-given spirit and creative vision found expression in these quilts.

It's late. I'll write more tomorrow if I can manage. I've got pictures of evolving work to share. In the meantime here's a teaser. This one's of you Rayna. I screened that deconstructed blue and chino piece (see July 31) with thyox. There was a stem an a few leaves of wisteria stuck to the screen. I'm really pleased with the result. Not sure what comes next, but I feel that this piece needs to stay together as a whole cloth. Time will tell.

Disconcerting discernment

I have to admit that the novelty of the blog has drawn my attention away from my private journal, but I returned to that sorely neglected volume this weekend and have been thinking about what I wrote ever since. I've spent the last several weeks focusing my energy and attention on my art, leaving the issues of discernment and call fallow--partly with the intention of seeing what develops and partly as a much-needed escape from that particular arena of self-scrutiny.

As I was writing this weekend I was struck by the phrase "Follow the money." That's what they always say in TV crime dramas: follow the trail of the money associated with a crime and it will lead you back to the bad guy. For me, the parallel thought that followed was, "Follow the energy." Perhaps this is pathetically obvious to those who know me well, but for me it's something I'm still coming to terms with. What if I look honestly and critically at myself and ask the question, "Where is my passion and energy?" Is it for ordained ministry within the church? Is it ministry of another kind through art? Can that other ministry be within the church? Is it exclusive of ordination? Honestly, just don't know the answer, but for about 2 months now I've been leaning more toward finding some form of non-ordained ministry and I've started to face up to the fact that it's making art that really gets me going. Strangely I'm finding that change in perspective hard, possibly even disappointing. I've spend a long time getting my head around the idea of possibly being a priest. Now I feel as though I need to disentangle myself from that line of thinking (even if only temporarily) if I'm going to figure out what the real answer is to those questions.

As I read back over it, the preceding paragraph sounds so wishy-washy and tentative, but I actually feel like it's progress. Maybe some of us we need to take a while to figure out what we're not going to do before we can figure out what we are going to do. And, interestingly enough, that line of thinking harks back to Parker Palmer's book, Let Your Life Speak: Listening to the Voice of Vocation, which I've read twice and found challenging each time. He makes a strong case for not doing the wrong thing for the right reason.

On the up side, I've taken a yard of cloth that I printed at Peters Valley and begun working back into it with hand stitching, machine couching of yarn, painting. I have a plan to do a bit of applique work and quilt the whole piece. I hope to have something to show (prior to quilting) in a couple of days.

Enough for now...more than enough.

Thoughts about critique

A few weeks back I read an interesting and thought-provoking article in Jane Dunnewold's HeArtCloth Quartly titled "The Art of Critique" (Winter 2007). The general thrust of the article is posing and answering the question "What are my responsibilities when seeking or offering criticism?" Jane includes a detailed discussion of the tools of artistic critique. For example a well-rounded knowledge of color theory, design, etc. are essential to offering a productive critique. She also stresses the need for ethical, detached feedback--not getting into personal attack. I wasn't surprised by any of these points, and frankly it's nice to have a gentle reminder every so often. The point in the article that struck me most was the responsibility of the artist to be clear with themselves and others about the nature of the criticism being sought. In particular there is a clear difference between asking for feedback on a finished piece and asking for assistance in resolving issues with a work-in-progress. This has been kicking around in my head ever since I read it. I recently (i.e., 15 minutes ago) had the experiencing of asking a very open-ended question (mistake #1) at the wrong time (mistake #2) and probably from the wrong person (mistake #3). To be specific: I asked Dan his design opinion about a piece I'm working on when he was trying to eat. It seemed like a perfectly fine time to me. I mean, gosh, I'd gladly talk about art with my mouth full! I value Dan's opinion, but perhaps this particular situation might have been akin to him asking my opinion about which brand of motor oil I think he should put in the car. My answer probably would have been something like, "Oil? I thought they ran on gasoline?" An exaggeration yes, but it makes a point. It's no reflection on Dan. I keep wanting this to be his thing, but it's not.

I wish I could say this was a great learning experience, but I've made this mistake before and I still haven't learned. I'm going to take this as another good motivator for me to connect with some other local artists for this type of support.

Rainy Friday

Yesterday we woke up to a crystal clear blue sky; today it's solid gray and light rain. Dan's half way through his second book and I'm not all that far behind. Yesterday we did end of driving back up to P'town and had a nice walk out across the breakwater. We decided that with the cool temperature and breeze it might not be a good day for the beach, which was an unfortunate mistake. Once we made it through the dunes to the beach we it was an almost perfect beach day. Oh well. we had a great walk out an back. The breakwater is a line of large granite boulders stretching about a mile across the hook at the tip of the Cape, which helps protect the wetland and harbor. The walk is not only a decent workout, but also affords some great views of the town, the wetland, and the intertidal life on the rocks.

This is the view of the marsh from the breakwater looking toward the dunes. The tide was going out. I think that the best time for this walk. It takes about an hour to walk out and back. In that time you see more and more of the wetland and the rocks exposed and the color always seems to be changing.

I'm not sure why, but I never seem to tire of photographing these views or the details of the breakwater.

Part of the appeal is the quiet and the sense of open space. Another part has to be the color palette and the texture of the scenery. The marsh grass, the water, the sky, the rocks, even the human textures of harbor towns like this speak to me. I don't particularly care for how artsy and contrived that sounds, but I'm at a loss for better words.

[gallery ids="1144,1143,1142,1141,1139"]

Steam heat

The weather channel says that DC is suffering under searing heat. Here on the Cape it's all about rain, fog, and serious humidity. Yesterday was so-so, but today was absolute yuck. However, as I write this the clouds have broken, the humidity is improving, and there's hope for a fine day tomorrow. We're talking about going to the P'town to continue our walk, pick up some lunch, and head to the beach. Last night we went to the movies at Cape Cinema and saw "Becoming Jane," which is great if you're a Jane Austen fan. If you're not, it's still a nice story, but as biographies go, I think you lose something by not knowing the back story. In this case the back story is recognizing in the persons of her parents, sisters, relatives, and acquaintances the traits of the characters who people her novels. Now, as for the theater, it's very cool. It's an original single-screen theater that dates from the early 30's, complete with a beautiful art deco mural on the ceiling. The seats are individual arm chairs with upholstered seats. I thought they were very quaint until about 60 minutes into the film with my butt started really hurting. Oh well, I guess that's just part of getting old?