Jeanne Hewell-Chambers

+ Her Barefoot Heart

Tag: stitchings (Page 9 of 36)

The Engineer & The Artist Do Art Camp: Day Three

April 5, 2014 / / 3 Comments

Communion12

Communion 12

I’ve long ached for an epiphany – for things to come whooshing in, connecting, clarifying, lining up. I’ve witnessed it happening to other women, and I’ve held the space for women so it could happen for them, but I’ve never had The Big Epiphany myself . . . until 4:50 this morning when I woke up with a start and clarity like I didn’t know was possible. I saw cloths, I transcribed my artist statement, I knew what I do and do not want to do. I couldn’t turn the light on, though, cause Andy was sleeping, so I just sent myself an email and when I copied it into my journal later this morning, it filled almost 20 pages. Astonishing in every way.

Communion10

Communion 10

(Communion is the series where I stitch what conversations with Nancy look like.)

I designed eleven cloths today, basting each one of them so that they’re ready to stitch. Yes, that’s right: eleven.

Communion14

Andy threw some more pots, but honestly, I’ve lost count. Late in the afternoon, I did accept an invitation to join the potters who convened on a nearby bar for drinks, and what a fun bunch they are! After supper, it was back to the studio for me. I could stay here forever.

Communion11

The Engineer and The Artist Do Art Camp: Day Two

April 4, 2014 / / 7 Comments

“breakfast starts at 7:30,” he says in a bit of a startle when the alarm clock goes off at 7:10 this morning.

“so?” i say, rolling over for (at least) a 10-minute snooze.

“so we need to get moving,” he says in a tone that’s rather annoyingly urgent.

we have breakfast, and as i look forward to heading directly to the studio to start working on something – anything – he reminds me that class doesn’t start till 9, even though the studios open at 8. his engineer is showing.

when we meet for lunch, he’s thrown another 6 pots:

Arcpots2 1

AND he tells me that he’s gotten over his bout with perfectionism. i clap a little bit, delighted to know that he’s embraced the wonkiness factor:

Arcpots2 3

by the time we met for supper, he’d glazed all his pots and finished a face jug:

Arcfacejug2

[ :: ]

meanwhile, my day started out with a trip to the local cemetery where we did a few tombstone rubbings before the downpour turned us back an hour or so ahead of schedule. this is the one i rubbed:

Graveyard2

back in the studio, i set to work dressing up my key a wee little bit:

Key2

and laying out and basting Rinse Cycle 5:

Rinsecycle5f

Rinsecycle5e

as well as Rinse Cycle 6:

Rinsecycle6a

i can’t begin to describe how relaxing it is to spend so much time in the studio. (even if i haven’t yet completely tucked in and shed the outside world.) oh, if my life could be like this.

there is stitching in my immediate future. and a lot of it.

[ :: ]

today’s bonus:
as we left the fiber studio when andy came to pick me up for lunch, i said i wanted to start putting in at least 37.5 hours on writing and stitching each week to which he said “and you need to get your studio so that it’s conducive to creating space wise.” oh man am i ever glad he came now cause after being in this fabulous fiber studio a few times, he sees how important it is to have a space that loves it when you’re creating. even if he hasn’t thought about the fact that i’ll need his help to make changes.

The Engineer and the Artist Do Art Camp, Day One

April 4, 2014 / / 2 Comments

Arcpots1 5

honestly, i wasn’t sure how much i’d like being at art camp with my husband. turns out i like being here together. i like it a lot. not only do i have somebody to sit with me at all meals plus a roommate i don’t have to worry about short-sheeting my bed or hanging my underwear on the flagpole or anything such as that, it’s great, big, huge, heartwarming fun to see his work, to see him create. he’s taking a pottery class called Turners & Burners: Folk Pottery of Southern Appalachia, and man is he productive. in the first 3 hours of class on day one, he threw 4 pots and a pitcher.

Arcpitcher1 2

“some aren’t smooth and round,” he says in a (surprisingly) apologetic tone.

“they’re wonky, andy” i tell him. “they’re the ones you would buy or at least gravitate to if somebody else made them.”

“i know,” he laughs.

[ :: ]

while andy was throwing pots, i was in a fiber class. not so much productivity for me on day one, but i did make this key:

Key1

and meet susan lenz (the instructor) in person – finally – and see some of her beautiful work up close:

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Susanlenz2

and also meet rena wood, the textile artist-in-residence:

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Renawood5

“i think of it like doodling with thread,” she says of this puddling effect:

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this piece was done on a vintage tablecloth given to her by a woman who works here. rena dyed it black and started stitching:

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Renawood13

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and this piece was inspired by the loss of memory she saw in her grandfather. he was losing his memory as she was building hers:

Renawood19

[ :: ]

afterwards, there was a bonfire (complete with wine) then more walking hand-in-hand with andy as we strolled through the town.

you know, when i went to camp with my lifelong best friend, dianna, a few decades ago, my mother didn’t send me the first note or letter, even though i left a stack of self-addressed/stamped envelopes ready and waiting. as we settled into orientation, i get a text message from this same mother, asking me the name of the song that played when the ballerina jewelry box was opened. my goodness how things do change.

but hey, they don’t make me drink milk at this camp, so there.

who you gonna’ call?

March 18, 2014 / / 7 Comments

Walkingwednesday5

around here, a folks ask the heavenly father for things. mostly they ask that his will be done.
i’ve never been good at that – at asking some male being to be in charge of deciding what’s best for me, to make decisions about my life with no input from me – and i stopped all communication with the one they call heavenly father a long, long time ago, choosing trees and sky and clouds and friends and family instead.

if you want to know the truth, i’m not all that good at asking anybody for anything in part because it makes me feel needy and weak and whiny and in part because i’m often disappointed when i depend on somebody else to be in charge of my well-being.

but

last week i was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place, so i asked y’all for support, and you didn’t disappoint.

not one little bit.

i got an ark full of voicemails and text messages and emails and fb messages. i even got notes and cards and one beautiful stone in the mail. and the stories – oh my goodness, the stories y’all shared from the pages of your own life. what a gift the stories are. i don’t know when i’ve felt loved and supported and comforted like never before. thank you.

and when i say “i”, i mean “we” – alison and me, both.

alison will have at least a portion of her thyroid removed. we’re all hoping they can leave enough to keep the thyroid chugging along, producing its hormones – you know, it turns out that the thyroid is a little organ with big responsibilities. anyway, surgery is scheduled for 10:00 a.m. tomorrow (wednesday, 3/19/14 depending on when you are reading this). maybe you could send another wave of support via whatever means you’re most comfortable with? maybe you would be willing to talk to your go-to on our behalf? we’d all appreciate that so very much.

marks

March 11, 2014 / / 2 Comments

IOOL 3 1 4

IOOL 3 1 8

IOOL 3 1 3

these scratchings
these marks
are nancy’s response
to what’s happening around her.
i’m convinced of that,
though she can’t confirm
or deny it.
she can’t explain.
but she can teach
she can set an example.

031114markmaking

today i add an activity to my day:
10-15 minutes of nancy-style mark making
in response to what is happening around me.
no words
no explanations
no apologies
no defending
just marks.

today’s marks were made in the context
of a conversation about health issues
and second opinions from surgeons.
but you could probably tell that.

i could become addicted.

in and out

March 10, 2014 / / 0 Comments

Lake

more and more
i do something i’m sure about in the moment
then doubt myself afterwards.
when emotional buyer’s remorse sets in.
when i feel overly exposed.
once i just lived with the doubt and the second-guessings,
but lately,
the Sweet Spirit of Surprise
seems to send me nods and whisperings of support.

last week I posted about
some rough spots in the road.
i opened my heart to you
telling you something
that we’ve talked about
around our table,
but never as openly as on a blog post,
and within minutes,
your loving support came pouring in
and
i came across
this
and the next day
this.

i feel better
but not woohoo-great yet.
we met with surgeon #1 today
to talk about removing the thyroid.
no decisions yet.
there’s much to consider.
so much
given the fact that alison
is a professional actor and singer
and of course there’s the vitamin d
and depression.

i’ll keep you posted.

[ ::: ]

Iool3d

while i wrap the support of your outpouring
of concern, love, and information around me,
i find solace in cloth
with its ins and outs.

work on In Our Own Language 3 has begun in earnest.
it’s slow going.

each of nancy’s drawings takes about 1.5 hours to stitch.
it doesn’t look like it should take that long,
but it does.

there are 271 drawings in set 3.

[ ::: ]

i’ve been stitching nancy’s drawings since june 2012
and i’m still loving and learning with every single stitch.

sometimes i think . . .

February 15, 2014 / / 3 Comments

Apocrypha1e

that those who can’t drive a car
are the very ones we need to be asking for directions

Apocrypha1f

that those who can’t cook a meal
are the ones who nourish us most deeply

Apocrypha1a

that those who can’t tell their own story
are the ones with the stories we most need to hear

Apocrypha1g

that those who can’t add 2 + 2
are the wisest of us all.

Apocrypha1d

Apocrypha1b

i have reworked and renamed this quilt.
it is now titled Apocrypha 1.

[ :: ]

Stitching Nancy’s drawings since June 2012
and still loving and learning with every single stitch.

breadcrumbs

February 1, 2014 / / 2 Comments

Evidence01feb14i

meet Evidence, the hymn of cloth that documents this year of my life – the year dedicated to building a body that works and a body of work – beginning on 11/15/13. (because every day is new year’s day, right?) it’s color coded by what elements constitute, for me, a day well spent:

red = moving (as in walking, yoga, etc.)
orange = making (stitching, mostly, but also collages and photographs)
aqua = marking (writing, as in journals and books and blog posts)
purple = laughing (as in the surprises and wonders of the day that don’t go unnoticed)

Evidence01feb14m

i was filled with excited anticipation when i started work on Evidence back in november, and decided to use my sewing machine (a christmas gift from my husband 40 years ago, bought and paid for with winnings from a radio show contest) instead of stitching it all by hand as is my standard, my preference, my love. it quickly turned unfun, though, on account of the bulk. and if all goes according to plan, the bulk will become greater and greater.

Evidence01feb14d

today i pushed up my sleeves and set about getting caught up. with the walking foot on the machine, i put an audio book on and started, telling myself that i would not abandon this project and i would make this enjoyable and worthwhile. period.

as i sewed, i noticed that i had a tendency to push and pull the fabric in an effort to speed things up. sewing was much easier and more enjoyable when i relaxed and worked with the machine instead of against it. ditto when i quit disregarding and underestimating the flexibility and forgiving nature of fabric – when i let it be what it is instead of trying to make it something else, like a glass or an egg. this may be a transferable epiphany.

///

later, along comes this David Walcott poem titled Love After Love sent by my friend tom:

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott

which is what often happens when you capture and preserve your life stories . . .

of rice, ducks, water buffaloes, and musical instruments

January 25, 2014 / / 0 Comments

In English that’s cute and endearing (though still quite difficult to understand even after 23 years in the US) Alexander Chen (known as the Master of Hyper-Realism because of his incredible attention to detail in his paintings) told of growing up in China and how at the age of 16, the Chinese government decided he would be a professional farmer. Chen was sent to a rice paddy where he planted 1, 2, 3, 4 rice plants this way, then turned and planted 1, 2, 3, 4 plants in a different way so as to allow the wind to blow through. Every day he and his co-farmers took 2500 ducks to the farm to eat bugs, and every night they took 2500 ducks back. From watching and counting the ducks, Chen learned to tell male and female ducks apart just by their heads. There were water buffalo, too – 25 of them that had to be herded back and forth daily. The young buffaloes were bad to wander off, but they always came back to their mothers. The older buffaloes were bad to wander off and keep going as long as the food held out. The more he talked, the more it became clear where he got his incredible attention to detail.

When he settled in San Francisco, he spent $700 and bought himself a Pinto. He took the car out for a spin, and quickly learned that it was good for about 100 miles. Knowing the limits of the Pinto, he began to take car trips within those parameters, and though a teacher taught him to sing “This land is your land, this land is my land,” he, like so many 16 year olds, credits his first car with teaching him about freedom.

[ ::: ]

Iool2closeup

KrasnyanskyMusicScene

Iool2closeup2

When I left to take a walking break, I spied a painting by Anatole Krasnyansky that immediately made me think of Nancy and her drawings. Am I crazy? Maybe, but what I felt was thrilled.

[ ::: ]

Jeanne Hewell-Chambers wishes Nancy’s drawings were as revered (and sold for as much money) as Krasnyansky’s paintings.

* The Krasnyansky painting is titled Music Scene.

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