Sunday Stills: The Color Orange

Friday afternoon I had the pleasure of showing my fiber art instructor for the week, Jeannette DiNicolis Meyer, around San Antonio. She was going to have an awfully long wait at the airport and it seemed only right she experience the lovely Riverwalk and visit the Alamo before flying back to Oregon.

Kudos to her patience; I'm afraid she had to experience my asymptotical* way of finding things while driving--by using the direction of the sun and general orientation to the plaza tower rather than a map. Then there was finding parking during the congested spring break (and, of course, remembering where we left the car) and navigating the paths and bridges below street level along the river. We did pretty well.

* approaching ever nearer but  never quite arriving at the destination. New word courtesy Jeannette's husband.
 

Oddly, we saw a front end loader hauling structural debris out of this building with the bright orange dumpster. It was nice to see so many downtown buildings being remodeled.

This cafe on the river had their orange umbrellas up.

Some orange-ish stone steps across the river. Artistic detail abounds on the Riverwalk.

Someone was wearing orange, perhaps unknowingly complementing the sky. Jeannette is in the foreground. The Alamo is always smaller than one thinks it might be, perhaps because its legend is larger than life. Many do not realize the majority of the men who died here were mercenaries from other states and countries. I always wonder--once they knew they were so greatly outnumbered and no back up troops would arrive--why they did not leave when given the opportunity. It must have been a guy thing. Farmer Rick's burning question about the Alamo? What was the last tune Davy Crockett played on his fiddle before the siege.

I just want to say what an awesome teacher Jeannette is, and I hope you will explore her work and her book Speaking in Cloth: 6 Quilters 6 Voices. The above quilt is from her Storylines series, and below from her Self Portrait series. She hand dyes her fabric to produce these gorgeous colors.

I also had the great opportunity to meet many other talented art quilters taking the workshop who gave me additional inspiration and suggestions. To everyone--a great big thanks!!!

For more images of the color Orange, visit Sunday Stills!

Transformation of an Idea

Last night I stayed very late to finish piecing and sewing the background so that the next layer could be created today. Each piece was seamed to the next, which took lots of easing with the curves. I also learned that you can't cut all the pieces out first because the pieced curves change with the loss of seams. Jeanette told me and demonstrated this but it didn't sink in until I was actually doing it. So there was a little adjusting as I went along and learning through doing.

I started this morning by creating a strip of punchy fabrics to represent the curving plant stem of my original idea. The striped fabric helps define the new element as plant, I think.

My tendency is to make art more complex than it needs to be, and my goal in taking this workshop was to simplify my ideas--to learn how much could be removed without losing the design idea. After laying in the curved strip, I realized I had achieved abstraction, and instead of endeavoring to make the quilt look just like my design, let it take on a life of its own.

Here I've added another branch to what's beginning to look like a desert tree or Saguaro. Since I've traveled the desert Southwest, I feel comfortable with this transformation. My next step will be to hand applique this to the base before quilting and adding decorative hand stitches.

In the morning we will have a critique before we all disband.

Layout and Fabric Selection

Today Jeannette gave a demonstration on piecing curves, which is very applicable to my quilt idea. Her curving strips which she calls 'story lines' flow and intertwine across her quilts. This morning I laid out the basic background shapes on paper and chose my base fabrics.

This afternoon I cut out the base pieces and began sewing them together. Tomorrow I hope to get to the next layer of imagery that will go on top of this. I'm feeling better now about my start.

The First Two Days: Preliminary Exercises

We have spent the first two days going over design principles--I suppose it is good to have a refresher every couple decades! In the exercises we have produced individual black and white fabric studies. I was unhappy with my first set, which were way too predictable and boring. The second set turned out much more pleasing.

While many of the quilters here are retired and have more control of their time, in my daily life I rarely have a 45 minute stretch of time in which I am not interrupted by something or someone. Half of the workshop is over, and we have not yet begun the ideas we were asked to bring. I am feeling a bit frustrated with my time so compressed, just like I do in my daily life. This is teaching me that making time for my art is an issue I really must address.

This morning there are more exercises planned, but I'm going to begin my piece. I need to do this for my own sanity and I will ask Jeannette for some guidance in interpreting my idea in fabric. Abstraction is really new territory for me.

Sunday Stills: Sunrise and a Sneak Preview

Taken this morning, a quilt-batting sky indicating some precipitation is on its way.

Ball Moss backlit by the sunrise.

Sunrise through pomegranate petals.

I'm leaving today for another week-long quilting adventure, this year with Jeannette DeNicolis Meyer in a class called Elements of Style described as Intermediate Adventurous. We were asked to bring an idea or sketch of the quilt on which we'd like to work. Since the instructor's forte is abstract art quilting, I thought I might try to interpret my more realistic style in an abstract way. About the only way I can express abstraction is through my photography. So, I composited my photos of a shadow on the wall, the parasitic plant in the river, the colors in my new bedroom rugs, and a woodcut of plant into my final, abstract idea.

Perhaps some portion of this will emerge into an art quilt wall hanging? I will be blogging daily about the process, so stay tuned!

For more Sunrise/Sunsets, visit Sunday Stills!

Macro Monday: Bird Button #3

Thanks for all the kind (and funny!) comments last week regarding the baking of my camera. It certainly was one of those 'gotta laugh to keep from crying' incidences, of which there seem to be many around here. After a cozy night by the fire I am happy to report that Camera is back to normal. Let's just hope none of you will ever need the recipe!

I am not sure what draws me to birds, but there has always been an undeniable connection of the heart. I love bird imagery almost as much, and buttons are easy to collect. The subtle, tinted patina on this one is sublime!

When I was a child my Ruthenian grandmother sent me a pet canary. As I grew up it was followed by a long line of parakeets I hand tamed and dearly loved. As a younger woman I briefly owned a sun conure which terrorized visitors and my other pets, and sadly has been the only animal I've ever had to give away. I did not realize parrots bonded with you like a mate and were extremely jealous of all other beings.

For nearly a decade I organized a national nature festival with a very large birding component. As a botanist I don't own fancy binoculars or keep a life list (too competitive) although I am aware of what birds I've seen and haven't yet seen. I don't travel to exotic places just to add their numbers. Instead I keenly observe those around me and learn their songs, feed them and watch them build their nests in my trees. I would probably photograph them if I had the right lenses.

Still, they figure predominantly in all my artistic endeavors: hand painted scarves, paintings, jewelry, even the advertisements I design for my clients. And, of course, there is my love of chickens!

For more up close and personal views from around the world visit Macro Monday!

Sunday Stills: Horses

For several reasons, this has been the hardest challenge yet, as Ed (facetiously) said. Yesterday's plan to get out and photograph horses was set aside for Phoebe, whom I posted about yesterday. Usually when I let Avo out in the morning he thump-thump-thumps (he's the most heavy footed rooster around) over to wing her and this morning he winged me a couple times and then cautiously walked around looking for her. I think not only do we need a new ewe for Finley's companion, but perhaps we need a real hen to be Avo's.

Anyway, I'm posting a photo of the only horse I own: Milda's Horse. It has an interesting story.

In the early 90's I was volunteering at the booth of a nature preserve at a fair being held at the Austin Botanical Gardens. On my break, I discovered a booth with these quaint little paintings, and one of a horse caught my eye. I had brought no money with me, and the artist was also on break.

The image haunted me for weeks. I called the organizer, and since it was the only art booth at the fair, was able to determine the vendor was a woman named Milda. Fortunately she was in the phone book, so I called her up and inquired about the little horse. She said it was $10 and gave me her address.

When I drove up, I realized she lived in an assisted living tower on the lake. Milda, in her mid 80's, not unlike my own Ruthenian grandmother, was under five feet tall and spoke with a thick Latvian accent. She had prepared Latvian almond cookies for my arrival, as she would for each of my visits over the next year. I bought the painting of her horse.

She had fled Latvia during the communist rule for France, where she studied at a national art academy. Her eyes gleamed talking about the European countryside she had travel and painted. I showed her my own paintings, which were large and realistic still life. My problem in painting landscapes was a matter of scale; it seemed I could not paint anything smaller than it actually was and make it work. Milda was sure she could help change that.

In reality I became her vehicle to get away from the home, as we would take our paints out into the surrounding hill country. She was always 'tinking' (thinking) about us having shows together. In fact, every time she was tinking it involved doing something together. Like me, Milda also played the guitar, only hers was tuned to an open G so that she could play chords by barring with one finger. She liked to sing Latvian folk songs, which we did if it were too rainy to go out and paint. She finally determined I was hopeless as small landscape painter. So we sang and ate cookies.

Then one day she told me her daughter had just died of cancer. I had never met her, nor had I known she was sick, but she lived nearby and apparently assisted Milda in whatever I didn't. Her grandson and his wife had just had a baby and were moving her to California to live with them. As it turned out, the little horse had become something altogether different and very big in my life that I was about to have to part with.

She gave me her daughter's knife and coffee grinder. Milda asked me if I wanted to have one of her paintings as a goodbye gift. I had really admired one of a blackbird sitting on a tree stump, but she said that was the only one she intended to keep. I asked her to pick, and she gave me one of a flower bouquet. We have lost touch. I wonder if she is still with us, and if so if she is still painting, singing, and making almond cookies.

Now the blackbird on the stump haunts me, so much that one day I may paint it in her memory. But at least I have Milda's horse.

For more horses, visit Sunday Stills.

Color Carnival: Bowling Ball Art Garden

If you haven't discovered your local Freecycle.com community, you should check it out. It's sort of like Craigslist, only everything is free and thus recycled. Everyone we've met--whether we are giving or receiving--has been very nice and interesting.

We picked up some sliding glass doors from Freecycler Judy so we can build a solar powered water distiller and produce our own drinking water from our neighbor's sulfurous water while our well is dry. She was making mosaics on bowling balls...

...and displaying them in her garden in front of her house. She started with a few, but after someone told her they were tacky, she put out even more! I thought it was an artful use of discarded items, and perfect for Color Carnival. Thanks for the glass, Judy!

For more color, visit Color Carnival!

Madrid and Cerrillos

If you saw the movie Wild Hogs (we haven't) then you might recognize Madrid. It was our first time to visit. We got in close to sunset on Friday and had this wonderful view from the rooftop deck of our casita.

The casita was filled with light, decorated with posters of the wildflowers of New Mexico, and even harvested rainwater. Very charming!

Once a company coal mining town, this village is now filled with galleries of artsy handmade items, local food, and music. During the 70's mining ghost towns such as Madrid, Jerome, Bisbee attracted the hippies who purchased places with $20 down and developed them over the years into real communities.

Here are some of the whimsical sculptures of our host Michael Austin Wright.



There's not a lot of downtown street parking, and some folks let you know how they really feel about it.

Apparently there was a self-proclaimed Marshall who made sure people parked in the right spots. He has since passed on, but his legend is still present.

Madrid has a sense of humor, too. If you look closely under the poster...

Saturday morning we enjoyed coffee at the local Java Junction.

Farmer Rick discovered a local green publication as we hung out on the patio there.

We did a little shopping. This means I was trying on clothes and looking at art while Farmer Rick discussed local foods with the shop owners. He can work the word manure into any conversation!

We had the most delicious salads for lunch at a cafe with three different names out front (none of which we remember but highly recommend). There were so many vegetarian choices it was difficult to decide. Next time I'll try the parsnip tacos.

Two miles down the road is the community of Cerrillos, where green turquoise is mined. We enjoyed looking at all the rock samples at the mining museum.

Even derelict buildings have style in New Mexico.

And so do the doors.

A small personal shrine.

We loved this image of Christ as a tree in front of the church in Cerrillos...

and this creative use of pallets! New Mexico is the land of recycle and we appreciate that aspect of this enchanting state.