Tag: stitchings (Page 6 of 36)

A Cloth, A Lightbulb, A Birthday

June 3, 2015 / jeanne / 0 Comments

IOOL4 4

In Our Own Language 4:4

She (Nancy, my developmentally disabled sister-in-love draws.
I (Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her) stitch.

A lightbulb moment as I was having imaginary conversations with real friends: I’ve fallen into the ghetto side of self talk. You should hear what rattles around inside my brain any given day.

“I can’t get anything done for the all the interruptions.”
“I can’t do anything when I travel except what other people want to do.”
“I’m gonna’ die without having finished anything.”

And so on.
And so on.
And so on.

Now you and I both know that what we say on the inside is the navigator for where we go and how we live, so I’ve made a few changes. Starting now, whenever I hear the ever-familiar (and comfortable?) ghetto talk, I’m stopping right then and there and changing it to things like: “Wow – look at all I’ve accomplished despite the interruptions and OPA’s (other people’s agendas).”

Okay, so I still have some tweaking to do, but I’m headed in the right direction, getting back on track.

Today is The Engineer’s birthday, and here are reasons #7340-7344 that I adore him:

7340: He is patient.
7341: He is kind.
7342: Not once in the 42 years of our togetherness has he ever responded to something I want by saying “that’s ridiculous.”
7343: He’s funny. Or can be.
7344: I’ve never had to hide a price tag.

Yes, you’re right: it’s his birthday, and I’m the one receiving the gift.

ARCHoldingJHCBdayCakeFeb1973 copy 2
The Engineer holding my birthday cake. I’d known him less than 2 weeks at this point, and I told him I wanted a picture of my birthday cake. What I really wanted, though, (and I’m pretty sure this will not come as a shock to him) was a picture of his handsome countenance cause I knew – I just knew – from that first meeting, he was The One. Isn’t he absolutely adorable? I mean, really, how could anybody resist him?

ARCInDublin

The Engineer last fall in Dublin.
He’s a little taller than me, something that always surprises me.
Happy birthday, you.

Another Cloth, Another Cake

June 2, 2015 / jeanne / 0 Comments

IOOL4 1

In Our Own Language 4:1

I’ve begun stitching the In Our Own Language 4 drawings that were made made in November 2012 when we went to see Nancy for Thanksgiving. There are 94 drawings in the set.

IOOL4 2

In Our Own Language 4:2

Though I try to never do or use anything that competes with or detracts from Nancy’s marks, I opted for more color this time.

IOOL4 3b

In Our Own Language 4:3

And bling.

JeanneNancyJanuary2015

Today is Nancy’s birthday. Perhaps you’d like to celebrate her by doing something she does: look at yourself in the mirror (or your phone camera turned to selfie mode) and smile – sincerely, really, hugely smile – and say to the you in the mirror “I’m a pretty girl.” Yep, we could learn a lot from Nancy.

And hey, if you’d like to help her stretch her celebration far beyond the scant 24 hours usually allocated for such things, maybe you’d like to mail her a card or a postcard. If so, let me know in the comments here or on Facebook, and I’ll send you hew new address privately.

~~~~~~~

Nancy, my developmentally-disabled sister-in-love draws while
I, Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her, stitch.

hush: the delicate tremble

April 24, 2015 / jeanne / 1 Comment

work on in our own language 4 has begun. nancy’s drawings become more intense in this set, the stitching takes longer, there are more lines and sometimes more chaos. i occasionally feel the need to set them aside and turn my own hands loose . . .

DelicateTrimbleCloseup2

the moon drapes itself over trees and mountains, and i am once again inside a childhood tent of blankets over chairs, in a world where anything is possible – anything, i tell you – and where time stretches out before me with no end in sight. life is simple there, nothing is silly or stupid or un-doable. everything i’m interested in, everything that calls to me, everything i want to do is worthwhile.

DelicateTrembleCloseup1

in my moon tent, i am spacious. thoughts and feelings commingle freely and naturally and without argument or vying for position. polarities exist amicably, naturally. attitudes that regard differences as automatic oppositions meet with head scratches and laughter.

DelicateTrembleBack

in my moon tent, i am protected. nothing has to be justified or explained or defended. concerns about returns on investment need not apply because when the moon drapes its beams over trees and mountains, i am protected from all that would judge or scoff or balk or argue.

DelicateTrembleCloseup4

questioning is the native language of residents in my moon tent where doubt is valued and sentences that start with “what if” are treasured. most prized of all are the questions that can be answered only with more questions.

i love being a moontent dweller.
where
i’m safe and possible and free.
(and y’all to know what i love best of all about life inside the moontent?
i can hang the No Morons Allowed sign out
and enforce it.)

DelicateTremble4

The Delicate Tremble
15″ x 33.25″
commercial fabric, embroidery floss
indigo moon and other pieces dyed by Glennis Dolce

Even When Nancy Doesn’t Draw, I Stitch

April 22, 2015 / jeanne / 2 Comments

IOOL12Nancy1

Then one day instead of drawing, Nancy reaches in her art box, pulls out all the contents, and arranges them on her blank page. For months I wonder how on earth to turn this into a part of the In Our Own Language series. I fiddle and ponder, wonder and sketch . . . then one afternoon the light bulb (finally) goes off.

Iool12closeup2 copy

Iool12closeup3 copy

Iool12closeup1 copy

I work a lot slower than Nancy.
Probably because I’m encumbered with words and caring what others think
and such.

IOOL12Nancy2

Nancy arranges.

Iool12complete1 copy

I stitch.

In Our Own Language 12
18.5″ x 33″
machine and hand stitched
thread, embroidery floss, and bits of fabric from my scrap bowl

Photos of Nancy taken by Mona Diethrick

vessels

April 11, 2015 / jeanne / 2 Comments

Vessels1d

i am ready to have more space than stuff
so . . .
i dedicated this week to using what i have on hand
to create something new.
my plan may not to The Engineers of the world,
but to me, it is a delightfully sensible solution.
(but let’s don’t take into account that i
have to store the new things i made, ok?)

Vessels1c

today i made vessels
from yarn
using the sewing machine
and, since most of my work is hand-stitched,
i am downright giddy
with the speed of completion.

i’m also more convinced than ever
that my grandmother
spent lots of time at her
sewing machine
letting the constant whir
build walls around her.

Vessels1a

wind

April 10, 2015 / jeanne / 1 Comment

WordsUnspun4

. . . a language delicate and quiet,
that maybe will take root
and maybe not.

WordsUnspun1

words unspun
11″ x 15″
hand stitched
embroidery floss, commercial fabrics from my scrap bin

words from the poem “Terms” by Anne Coray

ancient skins

April 9, 2015 / jeanne / 0 Comments

AncientSkins2

she fed us from her vast garden,
neatly-plowed rows that stretched on and on
as far as my short eyes could see.
we drank from assorted jelly glasses
ate from mismatched plates
most of them chipped or cracked,
bruised by life.
she didn’t draw attention to the
imperfections by way of
apology or neon sign,
but she didn’t hide them in the
back of the cabinet, either,
any more than she hid the bruises
just underneath her parchment skin,
oceans of color splashing forth
at the mere thought of
getting too close to a hard surface.

AncientSkins1

Ancient Skins
12.5″ x 11″
commercial cotton cloth and embroidery floss from my scrap bowl
hand stitched

determined

February 18, 2015 / jeanne / 2 Comments

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

January 13, 2015 / jeanne / 0 Comments

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

January 10, 2015 / jeanne / 3 Comments

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