Denial is no longer an option.

It's official. I'm a Crazy Cat Lady.
This is Bosco. I found him when he was two days old. It was Mother's Day. Really.

2 or 3 days old. Maybe 4 by the time I found the camera.

I wasn't sure how to care for an infant cat but got excellent advice from several quarters. Keep him warm. For about two weeks he spent a lot of time sleeping on a sweater in a kitty litter bucket. I had just been to the thrift store and scored several cashmere sweaters -- 3 for $5 -- so the sweater is cashmere. Very soft. Very warm. The bucket is yellow. Very yellow. The color was not relevant to his care.

I named him Bosco because Don (or, in some sources, John) Bosco is the patron saint of editors and/or writers. This was warmly received at the writing center where I'm teaching. As was Bosco. I was feeding him every four hours so he went everywhere with me for a while. The first couple of weeks looked mostly like that ^ or like this:

When he was two weeks old I had to go to Ohio for a prepaid, no-refunds-for-any-reason class. So I took him with me. He was a B-I-G hit with most of the other ladies in the class. (I learned that there was one sourpuss, which was okay. Usually there is a sourpuss and usually it's me.)

Feeding always gathered a crowd. There is such a thing as kitten formula. He ate about a tablespoon at a time from a bottle that was almost bigger than he was.

(photo by Mary Valerie Richter)

It was an art class (color theory) and at times things got a little Escher-esque.

(photo by Mary Valerie Richter)

A week and 1200 miles later, we're home again. Bosco is three weeks old and mostly ears and feet.

Eight weeks now and he looks like a miniature cat rather than a kitten. Romping around and getting into and out of things. When he finishes growing into those ears, he'll be huge.

(Don't tell Stella he went to the art class instead of her.)

S: Wait. What?
M: Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep.

ms. cogito

S: I've been thinking.

M: What about?
S: I've been thinking about getting back into my art.
M: And you're going to start by getting onto my art?
S: What?

S: Oh. I can't find my paper.
M: If it had teeth it would bite you.

S: Oh.
M: Well?
S: Maybe later. I need to do some more thinking.

make it new

Stella explores Formalism.

S: Minimalism. It's too hot to be formal.
M: Sorry. I always confuse them.
S: Go back to chapter four. And while you're up, could you make some more ice . . .? I feel like I'm on fire here.

everybody's a critic

I joined my somewhat local quilt guild in December. ("Somewhat local" means only a 35- to 40-minute drive.) There was a challenge afoot to make a 12-inch-square panel on the theme "music that inspires me." Thanks to the tons of snow that fell in January, the deadline was extended to February and I was able to put together something inspired by Leonard Cohen's song "Suzanne." Stella was underwhelmed.



Stella, with my piece: Her Place by the River ('Suzanne').

To be fair, she had been Working Very Hard All Day on something of her own and earned a nap. 

Cabin Fever by Stella

It's too late in the day to do any hoovering, but tomorrow I may introduce her to a little something I call "a broom."

In which Stella learns the value of "Just One Cow"

[wail from the other room]

M: What's the matter, little cat?

S: I'm ssoooo boooooorrrrrrrrrrrreeeddddddddd.

M: I see. People were asking about you at the meeting this month.

S: Me? Really? What'd they say?

M: They were wondering when you'd get off your duff and post something again.
S: I'm not inspired.

M: Sometimes you just have to do something, any little thing, without worrying about it to get going.
S: Oh all right. Let me get up.

S: What's that?
M: Last week's grocery store flyer.
S: You're not going to throw that out, are you?
M: Last week's flyer.
S: Vintage paper. 

S: I could Do Something with this.
M: That's the spirit, little cat. 

S: Come look.
M: So soon? ooh. What do you call it?
S: "Tuna Dreaming: Deep Water, Deep Winter"

M: Ah. Conceptual.
S: All art is conceptual.
M: Very wise, pretty girl. And you didn't even have to get out of the bed.
S: I'm back. Alert the media.



ta-da

I have been waiting a while to say this: So I was down in the studio tonight . . . and I pulled out the Moby Dick box and unearthed a panel I started ages ago and -- made some progress. Hurrah for me.

Chapters 26 & 27: Knights and Squires 

The studio will evolve for a while At the moment, my enticing wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling closet is the holdall for stuff that lives in the living room. There was termite damage there as well, so I'm shifting things room by room and having the floors repaired. Nevertheless, it was possible to Do Something in The Studio.

^I did set up the Bernina that I bought -- also ages ago -- and have been afraid to use. But then I couldn't find the manual, so I took it down again and set out my stalwart little Janome.

^The big rack o'fabric will eventually be relocated in the b-i-g new closet.

^Temporary cutting table to see how it works it in that spot. It's kind of a small room, so getting things placed efficiently is going to take some experimenting.

 ^Pressing matters. I think I want to get a buffet/cabinet kind of thing with drawers and convert it to a cutting/pressing station. Helloooo, Ikea. Meanwhile, this will do.

^The b-i-g closet. Usually, it's the little things that make me this happy.

And -- a note to fans of Stella. She's been spending more time in the house now that it's getting chilly, so I expect projects will soon be underway. Her summer schedule of three days out, snack and overnight at home, then three days out again didn't allow for much in-house productivity. Or conversation.

The artist with her 2010 piece, Nip Socks in Pantry (I)
[temporary installation]

progress, of a kind

There have been men in the house. Plumbing and carpentry have been represented. Soon, a cameo by an electrician. Then Men with Chain Saws for the yard. Then the grotesque house my grandfather concocted from determination and packing tape will be ready(ish) for winter, and I will be able to walk around in the studio without hearing the floors crackle and splinter -- which is very distracting. ka-ching, ka-ching, but not as bad as I'd feared. Not even close to what I'd feared, which was more like ka-ching, Ka-Ching, KA-CHIIINNG!!

Meanwhile I've been working on something. Inspired by a course description for a class that will focus on crosses and Xs, I made some Xs. The Xs became kind of petroglyph-ish.

Initial pencil sketch (right)
Sharpie tracing for projector (left)

Then, emboldened by my recent foray into dyeing, and empowered by my newly neatened stacks of fabric, I immediately found something in my closet that would work as a background. Except it was pink. Here followed a flurry of trying to turn pink into ochre.

Test swatch 3 or 4
Acrylic paint (ochre) on pink commercial print cotton.
Too yellow.

Test swatch 6 (or so)
Overdyed (tan) painted with acrylic (ochre and burnt sienna).
Much better.

I was thinking of the sueded, hand-dyed Cherrywood fabrics for the figures (the dark rectangles pinned on the background sample, below), but I think it maybe the wrong texture. Not to mention that it's wickedly expensive and I have a boatload of things on hand -- one or another of which surely could be made to serve. . .

So, on to roughing in the figures. This will be much, much larger than I'm used to -- in the range of 45 inches (115 cm) square -- so I put up some big paper and fiddled with the projector until I had something not too scary, then splashed on some paint for a very, very general idea.

It never hurts to have a professional share her expertise.

And that's as far as I've gotten. Which is further than I've been in a while. It's a good feeling.

as I was saying

Remember that the blog has been languishing since -- eek! -- April. Check.

Think that it might be well to get started again, howsoever modestly. Check.

Remember how to sign in. Check.

Sign in on the sly while my collaborator is gone walkabout (shh, don't tell Stella . . . yet) in this heat. Check.

Post a recent work from her String Theory series because when she finds out I've been blogging without her there will be sulking. And in this heat.

Realize that it has taken way too long to remember how to do this, but then it was never one of those so-called intuitive processes in the first place. Check.

Consider announcing that I've quit my job and that before looking for another, I plan to finish a draft of the novel I've wanted to write since I was 14. Not this particular novel since I was 14, but a novel since I was 14. [check?]

Mention that I have been collecting a huge pile o' fabric in anticipation of taking a class during the week of the 18th with Nancy Crow who is some kind of genius and who requires this. Promise "more about this later." Check.

That's probably enough for now.
Did I mention that it's hot?

Check.

working the 'just one cow' theory and a squib from Stella

I’ve been having a lot of trouble getting going again since my Mom passed. But I’m trying, trying, trying to get back into making some things. On the “just one cow” principle and with an eye toward the now-annual show that my First Thursday group prepares, I’m fussing with sketches. A deadline focuses the mind wonderfully. Vivien at Seven Pines Designs deserves credit for the inspiration. She sent around a note with a theme-and-variations exercise that seemed easy enough to support easing back into it. So I made some doodles based on a picture of a bird (from memory, I didn't find the picture until a couple of days later):

I thought these might have some potential -- and was interested to see serendipity had led to having some of the lines almost align:

I thought I could use the sketches as source images for a small triptych and embed the triptych in a larger background for the exhibition piece. I put traced copies down, shuffled them about, and had a few looks. The bright yellow background is a cut-up file folder I was using to estimate the final scale.

Then I set it aside to look at again tomorrow as I brought home a boatload of work from the office this weekend and sincerely want to get at least some of it underway. Ah! well, the things we do for health insurance.

Stella: you’re not blogging without me, are you??!!?

Melanie: I thought you were sleeping.
Stella: i’m not. and anyway, you were gonna let me sleep through it?
Melanie: You had a big day yesterday with your first visit to the vet.
Stella: first! i have to do that again?
Melanie: Not right away.
Stella: he stuck needles in me and poked my ears.
Melanie: Yes, and I paid him to do that.
Stella: you didn’t.
Melanie: I did.
Stella: i hate you now.
Melanie: You don’t. You have a lovely professional manicure.
Stella: i do. wait, don’t change the subject.
Melanie: I’m not changing the subject, I'm returning to the subject. You have your pictures ready?
Stella: i’m only gonna do one.
Melanie: Sulking is unattractive.
Stella: not sulking.
Melanie: Are too
Stella: am not. your camera is stupid and i could only get one good one.
Melanie: All right then, let’s what you’ve got.

Melanie Another triumph. What do you call it?

Stella: Shadow Mandala with Carpet Square.
Melanie Very evocative.

Stella: i know. i’m gonna sleep now.

Melanie: That’ll be different.
Stella: i heard that.
Melanie: You were meant to.
Stella: i hate you now.
Melanie: You don’t.

Stella: i know. but i’m still gonna sleep now.

good help

We. Made. It.

Actually, by following the "Just One Cow" principle
(note benevolent cow totem), we made 30 of it.

I'll post some of the fruits of the exchange on the weekend.

And so to bed.

Shhhhhhh . . .

inquiring minds want to know

Stella, the art cat, asks: You have to make how many?

You cannot be serious.

By Thursday? I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

Carry on, then.
I'll be right here if you need me.