Saturday, December 28, 2013

gawky pragmatism chew

This is not a political statement!  Don't assume I dress only in either red or blue, I'm more of a purple girl.



 Nobody can be exactly like me. Even I have trouble doing it.  Tallulah Bankhead 



Just before Christmas, NASA released this photo of Saturn and the caption said it looked like a Christmas ornament.  Not to me-  it looks like the bloody ball I have to 'walk' up and down the wall at PT every other day.  'Three sets of thirty second holds at the top...'  I hate that.  I shut my eyes, DO IT, but lose count about on 'three' with twenty seven to go.  Screw NASA.  Screw PT.  (OK, I admit, I've reached a plateau and still can't knit.  I don't care that my arm won't get something out of a back pocket-  I just want to hold a knitting needle!)  Bummer.  Frozen Shoulder, indeed.  
For many years I have collected hand and eye milagros to protect me into old age being able to do the handwork that keeps me going:
 eyesight is just as crucial~

 Little did I know THIS is the one I really needed.  Is it too late?  I guess I should order some still... just in case.
 'Cause today this is how I feel about the hand milagro.  My hands are FINE, but the shoulder won't let them work the way they are intended.  A cruel joke on me.  
Another example of 'man plans, god laughs'.  
Take THAT, Milagro Makers!

Here I am at the first of the new year trying to figure out what I want to resolve and not much comes up.  Sure I'd like to lose 20#s, sure I'd like to see my kids more often, sure I'd like more studio time and to never make dinner on Tuesdays again-  but realistically I'll keep any big idea changes to myself so failure won't be global.  I think I'll start out by ordering a new set of sheets and calling it a day.  
This morning TY brought me an article in the newspaper about dishcloths.  Yeah, DISHCLOTHS, the French stripy vintage ones on eBay that sell for $80. He opened my dishtowel drawer, crammed with old dishcloths that hadn't yet reached vintage and he tore into them like I was asking him to dry dishes on burlap.  Then he tells me the ones I have 'don't feel good' on his hands-  he wants stripes like when he was a kid.  Told him I'd spent all my textile time ordering sheets so now he can go look on eBay like the 700,000 other people who don't like 'scratchy'.  I also directed him to the end of the article where we are informed these damn things need to be washed gently, hung to dry, AND IRONED.  Since he does' know we even have an iron and the condo assn. might object to hanging laundry in our courtyard, I hope this subject is put to rest.

(Ahem, full disclosure.)  I didn't tell him I have drawers full of these things stashed at the studio, not the heavy Frenchie ones with stripes, I used (cut)those all up, but I do have some better soft linen ones.  Maybe he will get a Christmas present after all.  Now, some ahhht:




(from her website) This piece is a protest against hydraulic fracturing, a controversial and dangerous way of drilling for gas. In this piece, which includes the transparent Plexiglas pedestal to symbolize the transparency that we want and which does not exist now, the blue represents the once fresh water and the oranges represent the flammable gas. Facts and dire warnings are printed on the strips of fabric tangled into the blue rope. I been fascinated by "fibers" since childhood in my father's shop. I remember huge bins of horsehair and cotton batting used to upholster furniture, large spools of cord and cotton flex for piping, and yards of beautiful fabrics for draperies, which my father would cut with enormous scissors.
As my training was in painting, it wasn't until 1971 that I began to use fiber in my own work. Although I experimented with huge constructions of cotton duck and Dacron batting, it was the large spools of cord, so fascinating in my childhood, which made its way into my work. With my father's scissors, I cut lengths of cord, rope, mason line and cotton flex, painted and inserted them by the thousands into cotton duck, creating ten-foot wall hangings.
In my most recent work, painted rope is subjected to the tremendous stress of twisting, until it takes on a life of its own. No two works are exactly the same. The ropes are colored lines in space building up to a massive shape, coming alive in a way not much different from the dynamic writhing of vines in a garden. have been fascinated by "fibers" since childhood in my father's shop. I remember huge bins of horsehair and cotton batting used to upholster furniture, large spools of cord and cotton flex for piping, and yards of beautiful fabrics for draperies, which my father would cut with enormous scissors.



Belgian street artist ROA, who has been bringing his spray-painted monochromatic depictions of animals to all corners of the globe. This year he’s been to Portugal, Austria, Canada and the U.K. (just to name a few), and then to the U.S.“I wanted to draw attention to how they and many other species become a victim of hunting and pollution,” says ROA, referring to a piece he did in Sweden of a narwhal caught in a fishing line. Indeed, ROA’s works are often accompanied by an environmental narrative that highlights the ruthless, man-made world animals are forced to live in. You can see much more of ROA’s work over on Brooklyn Street Art.   (Love the dead alligator!)


Christmas Surprise-  looks like he ate all he dough ornaments and needs a rest.

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