+ Her Barefoot Heart

Category: stitchings (Page 8 of 37)

determined

Iool3a

i’ve never exhibited except when invited so i know nothing of the world of submitting for shows, but i recently saw this call for art, you see. the theme is drawing, and they’re open to any kind of drawing: representation or non-representational. when i first saw the notice, i knew in my bones this is a place
for nancy and me to put forth our collaboration. perhaps nancy’s drawings will be accepted here, as in welcomed with open mind and heart and seen as marks of expression, marks of meaning.

i’d finished with In Our Own Language 3, but then i removed 50 – yes: f-i-f-t-y – stitched drawings because i knew it would be better – as in more visually pleasing – if i did. but, let me tell you: it was hard to snip those threads, and harder still to stitch them a second time.

this call for art motivates me. time is nigh. i have only 4 days to stitch the remaining 36 drawings.

Iool3b

i lost a couple of weeks helping prepare mother for her move. it’s hard to fit my life in sometimes. but today, i’m fortified again. and stitching like you wouldn’t believe. the weather is threatening to tinker with the electric, and if it does, i’m prepare to stitch by candlelight. it won’t be the first time that’s been done.

Starting Is Such Sweet Fodder

Bridge

Starting is, quite often, the hardest part for me, and since beginning my daily walking practice, that’s how I start: I walk. I move my body through space. I see parts of this beautiful rock we call Earth up close and personal. It gives me fresh perspectives and newfound confidence. It opens me up and leaves me eager (or at least ready) to start any creative project of writing or stitching, and today I have much writing to do.

Thebridge

Today we walk this bridge in Daytona Beach, Florida
something I would have found daunting before last year, something I suggest today.

Birdsoverdaytona

There are birds

Cloudsoverdaytona

and clouds

OldTree

and even a deliciously ancient tree
right at the end of the bridge . . .
or beginning of the bridge, depending.

QuiltedWater

They say that if you’re a hammer, everything’s a nail.
Maybe that’s why I see quilted water

ShadowsLikeQuiltingLines

and shadows of quilt lines.

ViewFromTheTopOfTheBridge

There is, as you might expect, a most remarkable view from the top of the bridge.

MosaicTurtles2

There are even quilts of tile
portraying the rich variety of animal life around these parts.
Turtles

MosaicBaldEagles1

and bald eagles.
Have you seen this?
My daughter, Alison, turned me onto it.
Caution – it’s addicting.

MosaicManatee2

MosaicManatees1

and my personal favorite: manatees.
I’m going to swim with them this year, you know,
just as soon as I feel comfortable
trotting this swimsuit-clad body out in public.
Manatees are called the gentle giants, and they remind me of Nancy
slow moving, quiet, gentle, always smiling.

Speaking of Nancy, we’re here to move her this week. Stay tuned.

Getting to More Through Less

DissentersChapelBookcase

I want to be the kind of woman who can live with little. I want to live at home like I do when traveling – everything I need in two bags. Unburdened.

DissentersChapel1

It’s a matter of trust, really. I want to trust myself and trust the Sweet Spirit of Surprise. Trust that I can find what I need when I need it. Trust that I’m resourceful enough to use whatever I have on hand.

When we visited the beach at Normandy, France last fall, the tour guide invited us to take home some sand. The Engineer’s initial startle was instantly replaced with sadness because we hadn’t come prepared with a container. I smiled and opened to the back of my journal where there were bags of all shape and size, ready. We used a small tiny little bag with a zippered top and ultimately brought him enough sand for souvenirs for ourselves, our children, my mother, and Walter. Ha.

DissentersChapelGlovesSuitcasesShoes

Three years ago we moved to a small house in a small town. “Will I die without this?” I asked myself as I prepared to move. I didn’t die, but I did spend a year mourning some of the stuff I gave up in the move. We have only 2 closets in the entire house, which means everything is out in the open. Visual clutter.

I don’t want to want more closets. I’m a systems girl – I love the convenience of having things I need within reach. And besides: out of sight, out of mind.

I want less.

And I want to be happy with less.

DissentersChapelMemoryMantle

Now it’s true that some things bring me comfort and some things enkindle memories that make me laugh and tingle with love. But still.

DissentersChapelChaosTable

I want the space – the orderly space – to breathe and create and think. I want space for possibilities. Too much clutter – physical or visual – causes me to spin aimlessly.

This morning I found a big bag and wondered what if I fill it each week and get rid of that much stuff. Palpitations started. Most of the stuff I’ve needed and might need again some day, and it will be hard to find as remotely located as we are. I make excuses. Parting is such stressful sorrow.

DissentersChapelGlovesSuitcasesShoes

My mother is moving soon, downsizing. You know what that means: more palpitations. Will I opt to keep things in the family? Will I choose space instead? Will I be able to live with the guilt if I say “No, thank you” because really, around here we have a tendency to hand those things we’re not quite ready to let go of off to children (and daughters-in-law, my MIL did it, too) as a way of holding on less tightly.

ProjectsStarted1

This needs to be the year I finish the projects I’ve started. The year I use what I have on hand. The year I trust myself and my creative abilities.

I will get there . . . I just don’t yet know how.

Relics or Legacy?

Orphanquilt8

I don’t know whose hands stitched this frayed beauty.
There is no name, no date, not even initials,
though there is definitely evidence of use,
and, as I choose to believe,
love.

Orphanquilt9

Now that I’m living squarely on the finite side of infinity,
I find myself wanting to create a tangible legacy
breadcrumbs
a way for the kids to remember me.

Orphanquilt10

Having had no career
having become no expert
having received no honors
or gold watches,
these little Hymns of Cloth I stitch
seem of vital importance.

To me.
Maybe not to my children, though.

Orphanquilt5

Making labels for each Hymn of Cloth
is on my list for 2015 anyway.

Just in case.

Nancy and Jeanne: Alike . . . But Different

NancySmilesAdaptivePENov2014

Jeanne hates P.E. and avoids it at all costs.
Nancy boards the bus with a smile.

NancySurveysFirst

Jeanne walks into the gym
and finds the nearest corner to hide in.
Nancy walks in, surveys the scene,
then finds herself a comfortable spot along the edge.

NotQuiteReady3

Jeanne hates touching the dirty, rough, grimy balls.
Nancy doesn’t mind playing . . . once she’s good and ready.

Jeanne makes sure she stays in at recess when Red Rover or Dodge Ball is played.
Nancy is willing to play Dodge Ball,
but she sees no need to run the bases like they told her to.

Jeanne is your classic over achiever.
But our Nancy? Not so much.
You’ll notice how she throws the ball
away from her teacher – at least initially,
indicating a complete lack of concern for such dreaded things
as grades or (coveted) distinctions as teacher’s pet.

MichaelJonesSheildsNancyAdaptivePENovember2014

People clamor all over each other for a chance
to hurl the hard, gritty balls at Jeanne
who just curls herself up into a small knot
and vows “never again”
while the teacher rides around the gym on her golf cart,
yelling belittling motivational phrases through the bullhorn.
Nancy’s student teacher doubles as an angel,
patiently staying with her, then
using his body to shield her from incoming balls.

TwoHandedAssistanceNancyAdaptivePENovember2014

NancyandMichael1

On the rare occasion she actually went to P.E. (which was never),
Jeanne was graded on her performance (or lack thereof)
as compared to others in the herd.
Nancy worked one-on-one with Michael Jones
(a student teacher in the Bethune-Cookman College class
called Adaptive Physical Education
conjured and taught by Timothy Mirtz).
Michael took the assignment from his professor
along with the information he’s learned in the classroom
and adapted it to fit Nancy’s special and unique needs.

I love the word “adaptive”, don’t you?
When I’m queen, it’ll be the first word in every course title
because let’s face it,
one thing Jeanne and Nancy do have in common:
we both . . . we all . . . have unique, special needs,
some are just more obvious than others.

~~~~~~~

P.S.: Tim asked me to say a few words to the students at the end of the class. I led by telling them how I found their trash talking impressive. It was impressive . . . and not just because of the intensity or steady stream of the trash talk. See, the thing is, with the trash talking, the student teachers treated these special students like “normal” folk, and trust me: this very important act didn’t go unnoticed by anybody in that gym. They may not have noticed it consciously or given words to it, but they noticed. Oh yes, they noticed.

Onward

Sometimes onward means going back
or stepping into The Great Unknown . . .

Nancyfall2014a

Recent photos of Nancy taken by Mona Diethrick
indicate that she’s moved from drawing to something else.
Arranging?

Nancyfall2014b

Bringing order?

Nancyfall2014c

Maybe a type of mosaics?

Nancyfall2014d

One thing’s for sure: her work as an artist is evolving.
And I’m just tickled
and intrigued
and thrilled.

Iool3b

Meanwhile back on the ranch,

Iool3a

I pick up where I left off on
In Our Own Language 3,

Iool3c

restitching the 50 drawings
I removed to give me a nice, generous border.
Is it just me, or are the days getting shorter?
And I don’t mean on account of the season or time change.
I distinctly remember getting more done
in the days of years gone by.

~~~~~~~ Backstory ~~~~~~~

Since June 2012:
She, Nancy, my developmentally disabled sister-in-law draws.
I, Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her, stitch her drawings.

Click here to see more In Our Own Language 1
and here for In Our Own Language 2
and you guessed it – here for In Our Own Language 3.

~~~~~~~

This post is part of Nina-Marie’s Off the Wall Friday.

A Cloth Called Only Love Survives

Kippmarnieotto2

My son Kipp married Marnie on May 24 of this year.
Their border collie / my granddog Otto, was the ring bearer.

Flowers1 copy

It was a beautiful time . . .

MOGMOB

a fun time . . .

CityPark11Aug13d

a hectic time. Chaos ruled. Feelings rose to the surface, and some were bruised. The weather threatened. The best laid plans crumbled. As is often the case, the big life moment party passed quickly while the bills and tiredness lingered long. Despite all that, I wanted to create a cloth to commemorate this once-in-a-lifetime event.

So . . .

FullSizeRender 2

KippMarnie1

OnlyLoveSurvives9

I transferred over 400 photos to fabric

Table1

then I stitched them to fabric used as tablecloths at the anti-rehearsal dinner The Engineer and I hosted the night before the wedding. The theme for that evening? Things That Hold Stuff Together Comma Vintage.

OneDayMore29

As a special surprise for that night-before dinner (I don’t think calling it dessert is too much of a stretch), I rewrote the lyrics to One Day More from Les Mis, and had members of the two immediate families gather and rehearse for one hour before performing it – complete with blocking and choreographed movements, I’ll have you know – as a flash mob at the end of the evening.

OneDayMore32

I’m guessing it’s because they were stunned, but getting only applause at the conclusion of our number, I took the microphone and, borrowing the words of my brother-in-law Donn, informed the audience that we were going to perform that song over and over and over again till we got the Rousing Standing Ovation we so richly deserved. We got it, baby. We got it right then.

OnlyLoveSurvivesFlag3

Back to the cloth ::: using the flag (because what’s One Day More without a flag) as the core, I cobbled together other blocks of left-over tablecloth fabrics (and yes, those are the lyrice – my lyrics – also transferred to cloth and stitched to the flag),

OnlyLoveSurvives2

then stitched the more than 400 photos I’d transferred to cloth (photos taken by me, by The Engineer, by my brother Jerry, my sister Jan, and by the bride and groom’s photographer),

OnlyLoveSurvives3

and added embellishments like buttons and ribbons from corsages and centerpieces, along with handles from goodie bags and anything else stitchable.

9patchborder2

I used only what I had on hand, you see,

and I made it work, even when things didn’t come together neatly and easily and wind up looking like they did in the image I had in mind when I started stitching.

As with most of my hymns of cloth, I did not attach a binding, instead leaving the edges unfinished and softly frayed, perhaps unraveling just a little bit here and there.

and I decided to not add a backing fabric, preferring to make visible the back side, the often unseen side, the side that bears the knots and seams that hold things together.

OnlyLoveSurvivesLargeness

As I stitched along, the cloth got bigger and bigger and bigger – more than 131″ wide and I can’t even measure the height – eventually too big to see in its entirety. Too big to see all at once.

OnlyLoveSurvivesBanners1

OnlyLoveSurvivesBannerSpace

OnlyLoveSurvivesBannerMercy

Having still more fabric left over – even after all the photos and flag and the small 9-patch pieces surrounding the flag – I created banners, each bearing what I consider to be a necessary component of a good, healthy, lasting marriage. (Love, Laughs, Mercy, Refuge, Fun, Awe, Space, Gumption, and Pluck) Banners that became pillars of support when I realized one morning in the dark thirty hours of stitching that I wasn’t just stitching a cloth to commemorate the wedding, I was stitching a marriage.

OnlyLoveSurvives10

And what of all the pings and chaos and disappointments?
They slowly, quietly fall away in the days since last May, so that Only Love Survives.

Champagne

Only. Love. Survives.

Things We Now Know, Things We Still Don’t Know

Tuesday, 26 Aug 2014

We now know that . . .

DublinDoors1

DublinDoors2

DublinDoors3

DublinDoors5

Dublin has doors that are to die for.

DublinDrinks2

DublinJeanneAndyInPub2

Guinness and a Jameison-and-7
make for a fine way to close out the day.

DublinFacesInTrees

Dublin is home to faces in trees

DublinFaeinSidewalk

and faces on the sidewalk.

DublinGraftonStFlowerStall

Flowers being sold in stalls
in the middle of the street
is a fabulous thing to happen upon.

DublinJeanneAndyOnBusFromAirport

DublinJeanneAndyStStephensPark1

Jeanne’s arms need to be longer,
to snap better selfies.

DublinLifeStatuesGraftonStreet1

There are (other) people who will
paint themselves from head to toe
and pretend to be somebody else
in public.

DublinTheLiffy1

We now know what The Liffy looks like

DublinSnugSign

what a snug is.
(It’s a small, closed-off room in a pub
reserved specially for the ladies.)
(Is, too. My new best friend Deidre
told me so. I’ll introduce you to her later.)

DublinTheClothShopSign

DublinTheClothStoreFabrics2

DublinTheClothStoreFabrics1

DublinTheClothStoreDeidre1

that Liberty of London fabrics exist.
It feels and drapes like silk,
but it’s 100% cotton.

DublinTheClothStoreLoot

(Souvenirs)

DublinTheClothStpreJeanneDeidre2

(Jeanne and her new best friend, Deidre)

~~~~~~~

We still DON’T know . . .

DublinSidewalkMystery3

what these marks stamped in the Dublin sidewalk mean

DublinSidewalkMystery2

or how to solve this sidewalk mystery

DublinMarkOnFence

or what this mark on the fence means

DublinNest

or what this Dublin nest is home to

DublinSidewalkMystery1

Why this spring-with-a-handle looking thing is embedded in the sidewalk

DublinTinyLittleChurch1

or the name of this tiny little church.

or (and i have no photo of this one)
what we did to make us lucky enough to attract
the attention of Don, the Irish fella
who invited himself to sit with us
then engaged us in the most interesting conversation
of the philosophical variety.
He gave me his address as he took his leave to go to work,
asking if I’d send him the book I’m currently working on.

~~~~~~~

DublinGaietyGraftonStreet

Oh, one more thing we DO know:

This, this right here is what we had today: Gaiety.

~~~~~~~

Signing off with something we haven’t seen for eons:

DublinTvTestMode

(Hint: It’s a television test pattern.)

~~~~~~~

To read from the beginning of Another Great Adventure 2014, click right this way

or

To go to forward, click right this way

It’s Not Exactly an Encore, but It Kinda’ Helps to Think of It That Way . . . Kinda’.

Iool3wyellowbackingd

I ran out of drawings before I ran out of fabric.
I considered just stopping, letting that be that.
I considered cutting off the blank bottom and going with a flat tire look.
I considered stitching some of the drawings a second time – maybe as a mirror image – but none of those ideas felt right, so I waited.

Iool3bcloseup3JPG

Then one day I considered taking out the stitcherings nearest the border of the fabric, giving the cloth an extra wider border that just might be visually pleasing and might also come in quite handy when hanging it for viewing.

Threads

Tis an idea that that felt right – quite right – even though it meant spending 23 hours (yes, I counted) removing the stitcherings then re-stitching some 53 of the drawings a second time.

Iool3wborder4

It may not be fun, but it is the right thing to do. Isn’t that usually the way?

~~~~~~~

I came across this bit by Mary Oliver, and it seems to fit Nancy quite nicely: “Someone I knew once gave me a box of darkness. It took me a while to realize that this was a gift, too.”

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