Spring Cleaning/Organizing

About once a year I dig into my studio and get all the fabrics and supplies organized. I should do it more often than that, but once a year is about what I can stand. A couple years ago I instituted the "dishpan method" of fabric management. It still works better than any other scheme I've ever come up with, but they do get scrambled after awhile and I seem to keep buying more dishpans and separating the colors into ever more subtle variations. Browns and blacks used to occupy one dishpan. Now there are two and now I have not blues, but blue-blues and green-blues. I haven't gotten to the greens yet, but I know they are not all going to fit into one dishpan and will no doubt find themselves segregated into dark and light or some other possibility.

This is slow work, but important, not only for tidying the place up, but it reminds me what I have. The bottom photo is my collection of solids. I use them a lot and have been collecting for years. I do not want to resort to dying my own fabric, so it is good to have lots of color variation. This does not include the stack I have pulled as potential fodder for my next 12 x 12 piece.The two crates are large pieces, the dishpans are smaller pieces.

I have discovered the TV show called "Hoarders". I have a sick fascination with it. People who cannot throw anything away, until their houses are waist-deep in clutter. It motivates me to keep things under control, but also frightens me. I think I can almost understand how it could just get so far ahead of you that you would give up on any idea of dealing with it. It really does feel good to get it all squared away though. Wish me luck.

Souvenirs

Many years ago when I visited Alabama I was given a ceramic ashtray (I've never smoked) that was shaped like a bare foot and bore the words "I got a kick out of Alabama." It was the ultimate kitschy souvenir. For some reason it was just humorous enough that I moved it around for years. I finally sold it at our big yard sale last summer. The woman who bought it thought it was hilarious. I think I also used to have salt and pepper shakers that looked like potatoes and said "Idaho" on them. It's an industry—T shirts, posters, bumper stickers, pens with moving figures in them. I actually used to be a part of that industry. Long time ago I was the manager of the Gift Shop at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. As the buyer for that shop I bought a lot of "souvenir" merchandise. I tried to find things that were not so corny as the ones I just mentioned and even designed some of the merchandise myself—aprons, totebags, etc.

For our dinner last night I brought out my tablecloth from Ecuador and put the flowers I bought into the vase I bought at the Eduardo Vega gallery in Cuenca when we went to Ecuador for Emily and Cayo's wedding. It was fun to use these things with guests who would recognize where they were from and appreciate how much I enjoy them. My souvenir purchases tend to be things that I can use, rather than place-branded tchotchkes. I think my feeling is always that when I use or wear my vacation purchases I will somehow relive a bit of a wonderful experience. Maybe that works a little bit. But not always. Souvenir T shirts tend to become painting clothes or working-in-the-yard-wear. On our trips to Ecuador I have purchased at least two hats, always loving the way they look on other people. I am never comfortable in hats. I like the bottom one of the two the best, but I feel a little silly in it.

On one trip I fell in love with a ceramic light at the Artesa store in Cuenca. Ray and I looked at it and looked at it and left it at the store. The next day we went back and inquired about having it shipped. They could ship it, but shipping would cost far more than the light. Another customer who seemed to know what she was talking about said, "Don't ship it. You'll never get it." Finally, I just couldn't leave it behind and they wrapped it and padded it and wrapped it some more and even fashioned a handle I could carry it with and it became one of my pieces of carryon luggage on the return trip. I schlepped it through Customs and multiple airports—kind of a pain in the butt—but I have not regretted it. I kind of planned my kitchen around it when we moved, and I love having it here. Sometimes I look at it and I actually do remember walking down that street to the Artesa store and the sounds and smells and the feeling of sunshine warming the cobblestones and the idea that I could take that little piece of Cuenca home with me.

Palm Sunday

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. I must confess that Palm Sunday holds small significance to me as a religious holiday. I do remember at the Methodist Church, when I was a child, there were palms on the alter and at Sunday school we were told the story of Christ entering the city, greeted by waving palm branches and cries of "Hosanna!" My Catholic friends, as I recall, were given little crosses woven from bits of palm. But what I am remembering today is our first trip to Ecuador in 1999. We went to see Emily and where she was living and working and we happened to be in the beautiful city of Cuenca during the week leading up to Palm Sunday.

On that Saturday, as we walked around the city we kept seeing people making and selling intricately woven decorations made from palm fronds. They ranged from tiny little birds and stars and crosses, to large fanciful pieces designed to be carried and waved. The sellers sat on the sidewalks and wove the pieces as they were selling them. Some buyers would request a certain size or shape and wait while it was woven.

The next morning we were walking past the Cathedral as the service ended and saw that nearly every person was carrying and waving one of these palm creations. It was quite beautiful.

In my photos you can see the white, Panama hats that many Ecuadoreans wear. The hats, which are not from Panama at all, are famously made in the city of Cuenca. On that first trip we were delighted by everything we saw. We felt, so much, the differences between our cultures and found ourselves both in awe and a bit apprehensive that our daughter had chosen to come to a place so foreign.

Emily was renting a room in an Ecuadorean home and that afternoon we went to dinner there hosted by the family she was living with.

Here you see Emily; her host mother, Gerardina; Gerardina's son Pedro and her daughter Nubia, with her now-husband Diego. Since Pedro was the only one in the family that spoke English, he is the one we first bonded with, but came to know the rest of the family through translation and our poor Spanish. Gentle, kind, truly lovely people. Pedro, when we first met him said, "our home is Emily's home and while you are here please feel it is your home." Behind an anonymous-looking street-front facade, we found their modest multi-story home, with light pouring in through skylights, gleaming wood floors and beautiful Ecuadorean artwork and mounted exotic butterflies from the jungle. Pedro had gone to the flower market for the flowers in the picture in our honor. Such wonderful hospitality. At one point I saw Gerardina lean over and give Emily a smile and a quick, affectionate hug. This was the mental picture I carried home with me about Emily's life in Ecuador and I worried so much less.

We have seen Nubia and met her children on subsequent visits to Ecuador. We saw Pedro at Emily's wedding. We were deeply saddened when Gerardina died from cancer several years ago. Emily was heartbroken. Today Pedro and his wife and son, who all now live in San Diego, are here in Portland visiting Emily and Cayo and getting to know Sofia. They are coming for dinner tonight. We will think of Gerardina and wish Nubia and Diego were here too and remind Pedro that it was on Palm Sunday 11 years ago that we shared our first dinner with him. I bought flowers in his honor.

Phone camera tricks

I am still having fun with the camera in the iPhone. I just bought an app called "Hipstamatic" which takes photos that look like they were taken with an old plastic camera. I have owned a few of those kind of cameras. They traveled to Girl Scout camp with me many, many times. This photo shows some of the dolls that sit on the shelf above my desk. The cowboy is my mother's Buddy Lee doll from the '30s. In the middle is the faux Raggedy Ann, my first doll. Next to her is a Raggedy Andy I made. I think the photo looks like something you'd find in an old shoebox at a secondhand store.

I just finished three days of Census training today. So far I am not scheduled to work, but expect to be called for the big count of the homeless coming up next week.Needless to say, this is trickier than mailing out forms.

Big cone progress

I have been working my buns off on the big cone. I have to say this piece has been so much more fun to make than many of my pieces. I almost decided not to post any more photos until it is finished, but I couldn't resist this detail. In fact I like this cropped detail so much I am thinking of making a small piece that is cropped like this. Don't they always say that just showing a little bit of something is more provocative than seeing the whole thing? Or am I thinking of something else. . . ?

So, it is now ready to layer and start stitching. The stitching is always a little scary because it will change it. In a positive way, we always hope.Why do I love that blue so much? I really do, and I'm not so crazy about mid-range blues usually. I do love it though.


I may not be online much for the rest of the week. I am going to another training for a Census job. I hope they actually have a job for me this time. The Census took a lot of heat for training so many people last spring that they didn't end up having work for. Hello! That was me.

Taking bad photos of good things

I never thought phone cameras were worth much, but for some reason I am enjoying the camera function of my iPhone. I downloaded an app that gives it a zoom function. Pulls the scene in a little closer, but since it is a low resolution image to begin with, zooming it just produces pixelation. The first picture is one I took at a performance we went to with some friends on Saturday night. It was billed as "The Hepcats Ball" and featured three bands that play jazz from the '20s, '30s and '40s. The venue was quite wonderful—the Venetian Theater in Hillsboro is one of those great old theme movie theaters that has been restored with a restaurant and grand theater. We had dinner (it was good) and really enjoyed the show. My iPhone, zoomed photo is technically awful, bad light and all, but I also think it is kind of interesting. The bright light on the band renders them in near silhouette, while the curtain and heads of the audience members dissolve into Seurat-like dots of color.

Sunday I went down to the Mexican grocery in Beaverton to get fresh tortillas. I ran into my daughter and granddaughter there shopping for a pinata for Sofia's birthday party. The grocery is a very interesting place. It really looks and feels like stores I have been in in Mexico, right down to the grody linoleum floors, produce bins full of cactus paddles and pyramids of neon-colored soda pop. You can order fresh tortillas to be made while you are shopping for other things, then pick them up warm and wrapped in foil on your way out. And, of course, overhead are hundreds of pinatas. So I pulled out the phone and zoomed in on a colorful bunch.

My tortillas were for the dinner I planned for the family following Sofia's birthday party. I cooked a pork shoulder until it fell apart for tacos, using the fresh tortillas, some amazing salsa from the Mexican grocery, a sprinkle of cotija cheese, my homemade guacamole, cilantro, tomatoes, etc. etc. The tacos were divine. As Ray said, about as far from fried ground beef in a hard taco shell as you could get. We were all so tired from an afternoon of celebrating Sofia's birthday with 5 three-year-olds that we may not have enjoyed the dinner as much as we might have. Luckily I had so much leftover that we are going to do it again tonight.

Today is Sofia's actual birthday. Three years of joy and love. I never imagined having a grandchild would be like this. What a gift!

First day of Spring

And a beautiful day it was. Sofia and I went out to shop for flowers for the planters on the porch this morning in the sunshine. We started out with jackets, but discarded them almost immediately. I wanted geraniums and sweet potato vines. I guess I was a little early on both, but did find the geraniums at the second nursery we went to. Sofia picked out some lavender-colored violas which she and Ray planted on the porch. They are "her" flowers and she watered them and showed them off to her Mom when she arrived.

The many daffodil bulbs we planted last fall are now in bloom. Last spring I kept seeing expanses of daffodils growing along the side of the roads near us and I loved the riot of color and natural look. They are along the front and up our driveway. I hope as the years go by they will become masses of daffodils!

One of our trillium is blooming right now too. I love these woodland flowers. They bloom for many weeks here, starting out bright white and slowly turning pink before they fade away.

The ferns are a beautiful bright green. Those Douglas fir cones look familiar—especially that nice fresh one on the right!

It couldn't be a more perfect spring day. Sofia and I also created a little springtime scene inside the house.

Hope your First Day of Spring is as lovely where you are.

Working on the big cone

Several people referred to my design as a "pine cone". Technically, it's a fir cone, but that sounds odd to me too. When I was googling "Douglas Fir Cone" images for ideas, one popped up with the caption "This is not a PINE cone". OK, got it.

I started making needles for the branches that will surround the cone. Lots of needles. It finally made sense to me to make myself several templates to trace rather than draw each needle individually. Several, so that not all the needles would be exactly the same—a little variation in bend mostly. I got a bunch cut out and they looked like green beans laying on my cutting table.

I once made a small, postcard-sized piece that was green beans. It was for a magazine article, but I digress.

I started fusing beans needles to the background and soon used up all I had cut. I made more and cut them out last night while watching American Idol, so I now have a new bunch to start on. I am happy with how this is progressing. Once I get the cone and branches finished I will start thinking about a background to put it all against. (Did you understand that the dark brown will be cut away, leaving only an outline around the pieces I am now fusing?) I have some ideas, but I will need to do a bit of trial and error I suspect. People think I have my work planned in advance right down to the most minute detail. Not true.

Acceptance

Dinner at Eight Artists presents Beneath the Surface, a special exhibit at the International Quilt Festival in Long Beach, CA  – July 22-25th at the Long Beach Convention Center.  Sponsored by Moore’s Sewing Centers and Brother International and the Dinner at Eight blog.

 "What's Left Behind"

This is my entry that was accepted for the Beneath the Surface show. I am really pleased that 3 of my Twelve by Twelve friends also had work accepted.

This piece measures 36" by 48" which seems HUGE to me, but really I guess it isn't all that big—just compared to most of what I make. It was really challenging. I was working on it during the same period I was writing my parts for the Twelve by Twelve book and preparing everything for the TV taping in Cleveland. The deadline for this was just a few days after our return from Cleveland. I nearly gave up on it a couple of times, but persevered. I have no perspective left. I have looked at it far too much to know whether I like it or not. I would have been disappointed, but not surprised if it had not been accepted.

I thought about the theme and my immediate thought was the idea that all civilizations have left clues to their lives and possessions in what was left behind underground. I wondered what we are leaving for future generations to find—probably those things that seem to disappear without a trace! Things like car keys and remote controls. Interestingly, while I was working on this piece two major earthquakes occurred in the world. It seemed to me this process of hiding our possessions beneath the surface was probably happening in Chile and in Haiti at a very accelerated pace. Remember the treasures Ray found in our creek last summer? It makes you wonder what you are walking over every day, doesn't it?

P.S. Because I know someone will ask—the objects that are hidden underground were created by scanning actual items then printing them on pre-treated fabric.

A quilt for Oregon

I started working on a new piece today and put in quite a few hours. It is for a show of quilts about the state of Oregon.

I have kind of a history with using Douglas Fir tree images. It is the state tree of Oregon and they are just everywhere you look in this part of the state. They grow very, very tall and straight and have a very distinctive cone with little tassels on them. Several years ago I made a small piece with a cone for a friend that was moving away. Recently, my latest 12 x 12 piece has a Douglas fir in the foreground.

I decided to make a piece featuring a big, huge Douglas Fir cone. The real cones are about 3" long. My fabric version is a little more than 2' long. I made myself a big pattern, then traced pieces and parts onto fabric, which I painted and rubbed pattern onto. The rubbing is done by putting something with texture under the fabric and rubbing with a watercolor crayon. In this case I used a piece of plastic, gridded needlepoint canvas. It made a nice sort of cross-hatchy pattern.

These little pieces don't look like much, so I was eager to get to a point where I could start fusing them onto a dark background to see if this scheme was going to work.

Here I have gotten a lot of the cone fused. I think I like where this is going. There will be a lot of fusing of small pieces as I intend to add branches with lots of needles on them. I feel good about today. I got a lot done.

My back is really aching after working on this all day. I wish I could work sitting down. I got myself a nice tall stool, and have a good high table to work on, but it is just so much better to stand than sit. I think a good night's sleep will help and I will be ready to get back to it again tomorrow.

Another magazine

Yesterday I got the new copies of Quilting Arts magazine for April/May 2010. It has my newest article in it about reworking an old piece. This started, you may remember, as a series of blog posts last November about reworking my 2007 Journal quilt. The magazine editor saw my blog and asked if I would be interested in writing an article about what I had done. Here is the cover of the issue.

My article starts on two pages that show the original piece on the right-hand page and the reworked piece on the left-hand page.

On the third and fourth pages you can see the fun I had trying out possible new backgrounds.

This is now my third article for Quilting Arts—two for the regular magazine and one for the special edition "Quilt Scene" publication. I also had an article in American Quilter magazine last year. I have discovered that I love doing this! I hope I will be able to continue writing articles. It is a great challenge to try to explain a process or experience in a way that other people can use.

Neat

I now have quite a few magazines that my work has appeared in and several that I have written articles for. I have been needing a way to keep them clean, organized, but accessible. Several years ago, when I worked for the National Psoriasis Foundation one of my jobs was keeping track of all the publications and I found some nifty little plastic do-dads that  you slipped into a magazine or newsletter and then you could put them into a 3-ring binder. They were simple, worked great and did not damage the magazine. Awhile back I ran into Office Depot where I used to get them for the Psoriasis publications to find that they no longer carry them. By searching online I found them at a company called Miles Kimball. I bought a bunch and today I rounded up my special magazines and put them in a binder.

You can see them holding the magazines here. That sheet of semi-transparent plastic in the bottom right of the photo is how they come—all attached. You just snap them apart and pop out the opening and ring holes. I love them—simple, effective and inexpensive.

PS: I may not have explained these very well. They are not a sleeve or cover for the magazine, just the strip with three holes and an opening that you "hang" the magazine through. You do not have to take the magazine out of a sleeve or out of the binder to read it. Follow the link to Miles Kimball to see a photo that shows it better!

So I went shopping

Today I felt like I could slow down and breathe for the first time this year. I did not have a to-do list a mile long and a looming deadline to meet. I hit the ground, running, on January 1 with the word "Thrive" emblazened on the front of my mind and a list in front of me. (I only resort to lists when things get a little dire.) I had deadlines for 4 quilts, a magazine article to write, my part of a book to write and preparations for the QATV tapings, piled one on top of the other, as well as obligations in my real life. Last week's trip to Cleveland and TV taping were the culmination of one of the biggest projects and yesterday I sent off the CD and entry for the last of those quilt deadlines. The writing projects were finished several weeks ago.

Today I have a new list to make, but the schedule is not so pressing and I am looking forward to some time for contemplation and experimentation. I have some ideas that have been simmering, so I went shopping.

Tomorrow the STASH group meets. Today I went to meetings of Columbia Fiberarts Guild in the morning and SAQA (Studio Art Quilt Associates) Oregon in the afternoon. These are the associations that keep me inspired and moving forward.

Remember, nearly a year ago, I told you I had applied, taken the test and been trained to work for the 2010 Census? Then I didn't hear from them. Last week they called and I am going for training for another phase of the Census later this month. It remains to be seen whether they will really have a job for me this time around. Ray now has two consulting jobs and is traveling every week.

My life is so random right now. And really, in a not terrible way, I guess. I thought we were retired, but dang, the whatever-it-was/is-recession/depression-economic-surprise/challenge/crisis-thingie kind of turned retirement into an indulgence we could no longer afford. Interestingly we are both involved in some pretty interesting, exciting stuff now as a result. Some of it pays actual money, some of it just takes our minds off our new-found poverty, but it's all good.

Here's to being busy. I am, but less so for a brief moment, today.

Cleveland Rocks

So, one thing I really loved about Cleveland is that they take Rock and Roll music seriously. So do I. "I know it's only Rock and Roll, but I like it. I like it." They claim to be the birth place of Rock and Roll and I think that is bunk, but they stepped up and claimed it and did something about it.

It's not that I just "like" Rock and Roll, it is so much a part of my life. The thing about music, for me, is that it was always there. It was background, it was foreground, but most of all music attaches itself to your memories in inextricable ways and Rock and Roll is part of everything I have ever done, everyplace I have ever been and everyone I have ever known. The music of my lifetime is the soundtrack of my movie and the thread of continuity that connects me to everything. It is history, life, love, loss, joy and sorrow. It is a lot. Maybe that's not true for everyone, but it is for me and for my family.

In My Life • Midnight Train to Georgia •  Blackbird •  Forever Young •  And So it Goes  • Your Song •  Our House • California Dreamin' . . .  This list is endless, but it always begins with In My Life.

Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum is first of all, a beautiful, inspiring building, designed by I.M. Pei.

Inside are so many images and artifacts and, of course, music, that it really seems as much a  history of our lifetime as it is a history of just the music. No photos allowed inside so you will just have to trust me that it is a feast for the senses. Several wonderful videos tell the story of the musical roots of Rock and Roll, the many paths it took and the artists who gave it life. The video featuring each of the inductees into the Hall of Fame, a multi-media presentation on three screens, was pure joy and emotion.

What a great day we had. A happy-to-be-alive day.

Quilting Arts TV

We got home from Cleveland late last night and I am pretty beat today. It was a good trip and I have lots of pictures to share.The first day was spent taping my 3 segments for the Quilting Arts TV show.

I arrived at the Beachwood Studios at 8 am on Friday morning. This was the last day of taping for the upcoming season. I think there were 8 of us taping that day, so it was a lot of waiting for my turn and visiting with people. There were several people there from Quilting Arts as well as the Beachwood people who were very helpful and got us all set up with trays for our demo materials. Here are the trays with all the stuff for my stuffed bird segment.

Met lots of interesting and talented people. One of my favorites was Kathy Mack of Pink Chalk Studio on Bainbridge Island. I enjoyed talking with her and we found we have friends in common. She had a totebag pattern in the same issue of the special Quilt Scene magazine that my birds were in, and she demoed it for her segment.

My first segment was about the edge finish technique that I wrote an article about.

My second segment was offering suggestions for ways to finish work that people sent in that they were stuck on.

My third was how to put together the birds.

Just before my first segment, the guest was Sophie Rubin, a 7-year-old who makes quilts. She is Luanna Rubin's daughter and is adorable and was so cute and funny. What an act to follow!

We broke for lunch, which was provided in the pleasant, sunny upstairs room at the studios, then it was on into late in the afternoon.

My bird segment was the last of the day—which was the last of the weeklong marathon for the crew.

Pokey Bolton, the host of the show and editor of Quilting Arts magazine is terrific and really goes out of her way to make you feel comfortable and at ease. I was nervous. I was stiff and felt, at times, like I was grinning like an idiot, trying to look pleasant and engaged. I haven't seen the segments so I won't know until I do, but I don't think I was awful. This was pretty far out of my comfort zone. I am an introvert and not accustomed to "performing" but I have to admit it was fun. And the people were great. I am flattered that I was asked to do it.

At the end of the day, despite the fact that most of the day was spent waiting and watching other people's segments tape, I was exhausted. Ray and I went out to explore a bit of Cleveland. We went to the Shaker Square shopping area and found a wonderful Brazilian restaurant called Sergio's Sarava.  I was so tired I set my glass of wine down on the uneven edge where two tables were pushed together and spilled the entire glass. I never do that. Mental fatigue and jet lag. That's my story.

The shows will be broadcast later this year on public television stations around the country. Unfortunately it is not seen in the Portland area. I will get a copy.

More pictures can be seen on Pokey's Quilting Arts Blog.

My last cat

I was quite overwhelmed by all the sweet and sympathetic messages about Grace. I felt a little guilty, receiving all that kindness, when, in fact, my feelings about Grace's death were mixed. Don't misunderstand, she was a part of our family and I felt great sadness on losing her, but I also believed it was time and she had come to the end of a pretty great life for a cat. And I am ready to live without a cat, at least for now. Maybe Grace was our last cat.

We have had some wonderful cats in our family. I much prefer cats to dogs. They are lovely creatures. I used to love having a warm cat curled up next to me or stretched across my body while I napped or read. But several years ago when my allergies were really getting me down, I went to an allergist and was tested to find out what my sensitivities were. Pollens, cats, dogs. It hardly seems fair or very satisfying to have a cat that you can't comfortably share space with. I do love that there are neighborhood cats that hang out in our yard and sleep on the porch. A yard without a cat, seems rather empty.

There used to be a shop down the street from our house that had the most interesting stuff. The woman that owned it was rather eccentric, with wild and crazy hair. She had dark, tattooed lip liner and she never bothered to fill in any lipstick inside the lines, so that gave her quite a bizarre appearance, but I loved her shop. She had an eye for exactly the kinds of things I like. I bought many, many gifts from her shop, but never anything to keep for myself. When she was selling out, preparing to close, I decided I would see if she had something that I would love to have, just for me. It only took a moment to choose the Chinese cat above. He has kept watch over the goings on at our house for at least ten years. Not as warm as a real kitty, but he'll do for now.

Grace

Grace is gone. She was our friend and companion for 17 years, but in the last few weeks she has been fading away. She stopped eating. She slept where she could find a sunny spot and never complained. This morning I picked her up and she weighed...nothing.

She entered this world under difficult circumstances. One night my son and his roommate awoke to hear screams and shouting from the courtyard of their apartment complex. They called the police who came and took the young man away who had been beating on his girlfriend. The young woman came to their door and asked if Andy and Jason could keep her cat for a couple of days while she found a new place to live. She never came back. The cat was scrawny, sickly and pregnant. After her kittens were born the mother cat died. Andy and Jason fed and cared for the tiny kittens until they were old enough to go to new homes. Grace, the smallest, and her brother, Oliver came to live with us.

She had a fine life, prowling the garden and sleeping on the porch. After Oliver died her favorite place to sleep was at the edge of the garden exactly where he was buried. I always wondered how she knew. She will be buried out back by the bushes with the beautiful little pink roses.

Rest in peace, Gracie.

Twelve by Twelve reveal day!

Mt. Hood in Winter

Twelve by Twelve "Blue, white and a little bit of black" challenge

Hop on over to the Twelve by Twelve blog to see how everyone interpreted our second color challenge. You can read more about my piece over there.