Here is a 38-second YouTube video of the cloth I’m working on flapping in the wind during a boat ride this past week. Watch for the moon.
The white bands of stitching were added to the moon’s surface last night. More needs to be done to stop that off-white square from resembling a Triscuit. Triscuits look woven. So was this:
Yesterday, K. and I finished watching the spell-binding first season of ‘True Detective’ — a Louisiana murder mystery with Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson. Holy cow! The sociopath was deviously smart and a worthy opponent of two driven and clever detectives. The creep could do voices, accents, and evade capture for decades. But he also made these very cool pagan-influenced twig and rag and bone sculptures that I just loved (think: Andy Goldsworthy). It was odd to be enamored of the evil character’s creations.
In looking for an image from the show, I came across this: “ruin porn“. I understand the magnetic pull of run down and decrepit structures. In ‘True Detective,’ the central ruin was a former plantation — complete with greying, rotting big house, rickety slave shacks, and an underground fort. These sets were beyond creepy, and yet mesmerizing, proving, I suppose the “ruin porn” article’s point. (For the record, they went overboard with the piles of broken, vacantly-staring dolls. They were not needed to create the ambiance). See add on paragraph below about set design.
My cousin Ginny Mallon (photographer/painter/blogger) has been exploring all kinds of ruination, especially along coastlines. Most recently she photographed Dead Horse Bay, which is in Brooklyn near the Marine Parkway Bridge. Its beach, “Bottle Beach” is so full of garbage from such a long span of time, that it’s considered a ‘living museum of trash’. Inexplicably, her photos of the garbage are gorgeous.
Driving from Newton to Brookline today, I almost stopped to photograph a robust rose bush spilling over with vermilion flowers. It screamed ‘summer’. It was beautiful. This is almost the exact opposite impulse of the one I documented a few weeks back — the desire to shoot pictures of parking lots, guard rails or gas stations, in part to upend a narrow sense of what constitutes ‘beauty’.
I guess I am allowed to feel both urges. This door was captured about a year ago after fabric shopping in Arlington, I think.
Debbie’s comment inspired me to find out who designed the sets for ‘True Detective’. His name is Joshua Walsh and you can read about him here. The ‘vulture’ blog post had this to report: “’He’s the son of a family that ran a funeral home, and he’s an avid hunter and taxidermist — basically, the perfect dude for the job,’ DiGerlando told Vulture.”
I had just commented below that Louisiana itself is a landscape of ruination, and one we’ve seen before in ‘True Blood’ and ‘Beasts of the Southern Wild’. It is was no surprise to discover that Walsh also did the set design for ‘Beasts’.
The butterfly has slept soundly for three seasons. Not a caterpillar, but a pair of wings, without a body.
Now with the weaving ideas flowing at Jude Hill‘s Considering Weave class, I am trying out some of the surface weave techniques.
One of Cindy’s quilts (blog: handstories) inspired the beginning of embroidered words. Reading them now, it places the insect in time — the beginning of D.’s senior year.
Now of course, over.
One of the saved baby outfits. This one D.’s. College-bound (the boy, not the outfit!):[When I was about eight months pregnant, I showed my bed-ridden mother this little vest and onesie. "You're finding his palette," she announced in true art teacher/mother fashion. She would never meet him].
We were away and now we’re back. A summer rain releases the smell of the earth as I type. We need it, this rain.
The above patchwork panel is a ‘toss off’ from the Middle Passage series and I am afraid that the whole time I was quilting it last night I wondered what it is going ‘to be’. I don’t like to think that way, but it would not go away, this question: “What is this GOING TO BE?”
On the yellow-ish square, I experimented with the idea of creating a VISUAL WEAVING by treating striped fabric as a strung loom.
My earlier ACTUAL WEAVING (below) was left damp and pinned while we were gone, but it was still lumpy, so I used machine quilting and a stiff upholstery fabric for a backing to try and even it out. It’s not there yet, and it may not get there. The central cut-away may have been too big to be supported by the sides.
While we traveled there were moments where the WORLD struck me as a loom. In the tunnel, I was part of the warp. But when traveling along row after row of erect pine trees, I was the weft.
Lastly, before we left, I darned a big hole in a pair of my husband’s jeans. I had fun with it even if it is kind of a mess – particularly the vertical section, which to my mind looks like a badly stitched together wound.
First, a rectangle. Then, a turtle born from its center. A long idle period ensued.
The center opened up (thanks for the idea, Jude). And I got to work.
“The Paradise” entertained me (BBC period drama). It is what “Selfridge’s” might have been had it been any good. My husband figured out that we could keep the air on downstairs without risking a flow of water through the mudroom’s light fixture. This was a great relief.
I could live with the ‘having to take two warps at a time’ mistake (seen above). In part, because it reminded me of spider parables cautioning against arrogance and the middle eastern rug-making practice of purposely allowing imperfection so as not to offend the gods.
But, when I took the piece out of the hoop, a faulty tension revealed itself: oh such major lumps!! This is imperfection of a different order. The spoiling kind. I couldn’t find my spray bottle (it’s been missing so long now I have to assume the leprechauns took it), so damp-stretching was not an immediate option. The attempt to stabilize with machine stitch was quickly abandoned.
Since some of us are headed to the Rocky Mountains today, it will have to wait.
Laundry got done in town. This beast gobbled up 23 quarters!!! K. has disassembled our machine, watched YouTube repair videos, and ordered parts. Probably will save us $900.
Last night, the studio received its ‘flood preparation pick up’. All items on floor are housed in plastic bins — no paper, no baskets, no leather or wood. Rugs up. Foot pedal up. I hope this will have been an unnecessary precaution.
Spotty check ins for a bit. My password for WP is not working on my phone this morning for some completely opaque reason, so we shall see.