going macro

My fiber art group is working on a challenge: take an extreme close-up of something(s) using the macro setting on the camera, then work up a panel inspired by the image. I have an idea I've started working on, now all I need is a picture to have "inspired" it. Hmmm. This is not the way the process was supposed to go, but I usually fall short on the "supposed to" side of things. I did take some photos, though, some of which may do for something at some point. To wit . . .

I was hoping this would serve as the backfill inspiration for the new piece, but no dice:


This is a beauty shot of a beauty bush. Not a macro shot, but I can rarely resist anything purple. I like the verticality, there may be something in this for another time.
Can you guess this next one?

(Hair elastics with metal clamp, above)
This caladium leaf has possibilities as an abstract -- also for some later day and project.

And now -- going to go watch Game 3 of the World Series.

holiday plates

I have a short list of things that I do when I couldn't possibly feel any worse. Things that are in themselves so dispiriting, that I need to be at some kind of existential nadir even to approach them. The list is:
1. Do some housekeeping.
2. Try to write something
(as in an essay or a story of some kind; maybe fiddle with one of the ideas for a novel. hah).

I told you it was a short list.

So today, fresh from my Very First Colonoscopy ("perfectly healthy" by the way), once the sedation had ebbed sufficiently, I opened one of Mom's closets and looked for the holiday dishes. I had recently begun to think that I should haul out of the closets all the things that were deemed "too good to be used" and/or Set Aside For Special Occasions Only and -- brace yourself for the sacrilege -- use them. On the other hand, I live alone and it's a service for -- if I remember correctly --12 and includes things like a gravy boat and several cunning sets of plates in inscrutable sizes, such as this one, which is about 7 inches across and has itty handles. Some kind of serving dish?

The set was acquired by my grandmother, so the story goes, at the "Dish Nights" that the grocery stores and movie theaters sponsored in the '30s or the '40s to keep people coming in. That is, you came in, spread a little cash around, and were rewarded for your patronage with one or more pieces (or place settings, the details of the story wander) for your set. As I said, it's a fairly large set. The idea of my grandmother doing this, week after week, when there was very little money, when there were five kids at home and a harsh alcoholic husband to dupe or persuade, is impressive. This determined yearning for a bit of gentility -- the pieces are stamped "Made in U.S.A. Limoges Lyric Warranted 22 K Gold" -- should not be hidden away in the closet under the eaves.

On the other hand, do they suit my life? They cannot be popped in the microwave for fear of arcing and of literally popping apart, and they must be hand-washed. Hmmm.... Maybe I need to acquire a staff? Good lord, Gramma, what were you thinking?

fun, fun, fun

Lots to catch up with. I'll start with the classes I took this weekend. (I'll finish with them too. It's getting late and I do have to go to work tomorrow.) Lynne Perella -- author of Alphabetica, True Colors, and Artists' Journals and Sketchbooks -- was doing two classes sponsored by The Ink Pad in Manhattan. So I signed up for both, and even though each class focused on the same technique, I was very glad I did. I am very poky in my art making, slow to get an idea, slow to commit to an idea, slow to work on the idea, slow to finish. So, having taken the Saturday class, I was better prepared for what I needed to do, and how to pace myself for Sunday. I'm pleased to announce: I Finished Something. And I finished it in the time allotted. Holy Mother of God, I hope no one expects this to be any kind of precedent.
But I digress. Lynne teaches her method of making highly textured, multileveled backgrounds/midgrounds, and then incorporating onto these surfaces a top layer of altered images based on photocopies. On Saturday the theme was Asia; on Sunday, Medieval. Lynne is a fabulous teacher -- she teaches her method and then coaches each student to deploy it to express her own way. Every piece produced each day was highly individualistic. I think this is a wonderful thing in a teacher. So Saturday I got my highly textured background done and, because I rarely get further than making a highly textured background in any mixed-media class I have taken, I am getting quite good at these backgrounds. I fell way short, however, on the altered image front, but Lynne suggested making a large drawing of one of the images, using it as a mask, and painting around it. This is the other amazing thing about this generous woman -- overflowing with terrific, achievable, spot-on ideas.

(detail: Cranes)

Still, I was frustrated and disappointed that I didn't get the collage part done. Because the base painting is 30 inches x 30 inches (almost three times bigger than my usual format! yikes!), I decided to make honking-big photocopies to use on Sunday. This was a good decision. I finished just in the nick of time, but I finished.
One option for the finished piece is to fold it to form a book. Most folks decided to do that (me, too) but some left their work open and flat as a painting, and Lynne suggested that my medieval piece might also work as panels. I don't know what a four-unit piece would be called -- a double diptych? -- but I wanted a book. Clumsily photographed, it looks like this.

Flat, folded, and cut (details from the Unicorn tapestries at the Cloisters): Inside pages
(we were encouraged not to be concerned about images appearing upside down, or sideways, or in partial views) Front cover (folded):

I have had in mind a project using the format of currency (banknotes, paper money) to celebrate various women. I think this process will let me start that project. And soon.

Meanwhile, gentle readers, if you EVER have a chance to take a class with Lynne Perella, do whatever is necessary to be there.