Swim With Sharks

School's out. The kids and I just got back from a quick trip to the beach. No real sharks in sight, but these blue inflatables made me think about taking risks. The summer is here. The schedule has changed. And there is nothing standing between me and my dreams except fear. Fear of what? No blood loss. No gnashing of teeth and loss of limb. Simply the fear of failing.
Suddenly I don't care anymore. I'm going out with the sharks. Sure, I am wearing a floral swim cap, ear plugs, nose plug, a bright pink floatie, and lots of sunscreen. But I am going out.
Hope you'll join me.

Diversion of the Spoonflower Kind

 
Have any of you tried Spoonflower? It's a magical place where you can transform your designs into fabric. The cheapest yardage is $18 a yard for a nice quilting cotton.

Due to my subpar seamstress skills, I am scared to actually make something. I'm still just purchasing samples ($5 for an 8 inch square). In truth, my master plan is to pick my favorite sample, purchase a few yards and a cute skirt pattern, then visit my mother. I will look into her eyes, butter her up with compliments, and reminisce about the glory days when she sewed all my prom dresses. If this doesn't work, I will start sewing at her house on her fancy machine. She will see me struggle and just take over. Fingers are crossed.

Here are a few of my latest samples. I scanned artwork into Illustrator, manipulated colors, then tried all kinds of different repeats.

original ink and acrylic design for the above fabric

the original acrylic on cardboard

basic repeat

same design, but in a different color and with a mirror repeat

 This kind of fun could keep me occupied all day long. Be careful if you visit. Block out some time!

They Are Fine

It's Mother's Day here in the US and I am thankful. Thankful for my two kids and thankful for a day of complete and utter laziness. It is 9:26pm and I am still in my pajamas. I am also coated in dog hair from allowing my dog to recline on me as I watched an old movie with my family. The cars never left the garage. I read, I watched a movie, and I made art. We even had a slow and steady rain all day. Delicious.

The school year is about to end. Things are winding down. My son is completing elementary school and will be off to middle school in the fall. I've been stumbling upon old photos and memories. All kinds of doubts are making their way back out. Did I do this right? I sure hope he's ready. Did I tell her the right thing? Should I have done this differently? Have I messed them up for life?

Somehow this lazy Mother's Day put those questions to rest. We sat in silence and read. We piled in a tangle of legs, quilts, and dog to watch an old movie. We shared a bag of chips.

They are fine. And I am grateful.

Little Messages

While cleaning up a trashy pile today, I noticed a phrase cut serendipitously from one of the old books I frequently use for collage.

"Leave space for these to be." I had to stop and just read the phrase to myself a few times. I thought about how often I fill the empty space in my life, instead of allowing the space to just exist. I'm stuck in an Ikea of the mind. Before long, my cart is filled with things I could not leave behind. Every corner of my brain is filled with mental doodads I have culled from the bargain bins of life. Some of it is indeed treasure, but most of it needs to be out on the driveway at the next yard sale.
What would happen if I left some room up there? What might I learn or hear or see differently?

 The thrill of my find enticed me into looking for more little messages among the clutter. So the hunt began. I sorted through torn sections and cut interesting phrases. I put them together and made bad poems.

I like the way these little messages get my mind going in a new direction. I guess this is just another way to see things in another way - always welcome in my world, where it seems like lately I am tired of everything.

It's time to leave some space for countless hours of delightful.

Junk in the Trunk

Junk in the Trunk. This phrase has been on my mind today. So odd how random phrases get stuck in my head sometimes. Perhaps this phrase came to me as I reflected on the impending bathing suit season and the rear end I have amassed after a daily handful (or so) of peanut M&Ms over the last month. 
That's probably where this thought started.
But lets think in other directions, shall we?

My children and I cleaned out bedrooms, closets, and drawers over the weekend and hauled many bags of junk to Goodwill. If only we could unload the junk of our thoughts so easily.

What kinds of junk do you carry in your trunk? My list includes an array of past failures, embarrassing moments from over forty years of living, boyfriends I wish I'd never even met, a long list of things I should have done by now, and mean things some girl said to me on the bus in third grade.

Like my son's lacrosse bag that I do indeed haul around in my trunk, this junk can really stink up my air. The key is not to let it stink up my life for good. I've got to remind myself that junk can be thrown out and most bad stinks will disappear with a good cleaning, air, sunlight, and a strong shot of Lysol. I've either got to do the work to air out the bad smells or simply ... let that junk go. Leave it down at the thrift store. Throw it into the trash.

Life is just too short and beautiful to drive around town with junk in my trunk and I'm working really hard to leave it all at the curb. You are welcome to drop yours off at the same location.

As for the collages you've been viewing?
All pieces from the good junk of my life - my paper and trash stash!

Work Without a Plan

I love to make plans. My poor parents, husband, sister, and friends have all been subjected to the details of my grand schemes for years and years. I've got journals and sketchbooks filled with bold headings, brainstorming graphic organizers, and detailed outlines and timelines.
Downright cringe-worthy.
Perhaps planning is not my best work.

So, in the spirit of NOT making any plans, I decided to just work on something a little bit different with supplies I already have on hand, paper and thread.

After finishing my last project, I had an enormous pile of ripped-up papers.
I spread them out on my work table, grabbed my favorite thread colors, and started stitching.

Unfortunately, you all out there in bloggy land can't touch these yummy textures. The repetitive stitching and paper layering turns the paper into a fabric-like textile.
If I wouldn't be such a walking fire hazard, I would love to make a dress out of this stuff.

 
I don't know how I will use these "paper textiles" yet.
Add paint to them?
Cut them into rectangles, strips, circles? 
Sew them together to make a quilt?
Use them as a background for bold shape?

I love having different papers and textiles to use when I start a project.
Perhaps these will just be a part of my new supply stash.
 

 

If I am really lucky, a fabulous idea will flash into my mind.
Then I can create an amazing piece and pretend it was part of my glorious master plan all along. 
And so the planning cycle continues. 

Are You Fed?

It is not unusual for me to think about food and getting fed (especially when Girl Scout cookies are within my reach), but this week I've been thinking about getting fed creatively. I've been working on a piece I am donating to a project called Feed Me: the 7 x 7 Show benefiting Meals on Wheels. All this talk and thought about food has me thinking about the importance of proper creative nutrition.

What really satisfies my creative stomach growls?

looking at edgy photography in fashion magazines
reading artsy blogs
reading poetry
watching artist documentaries
looking at my old art journals
sitting in nature
playing with my art supplies

Much like my brain when I smell an opened bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, a few minutes doing any of these activities leaves me with the insatiable urge to to dive in. I want to write, doodle, or paint on any piece of paper I can find.

However, unlike a bag of Doritos, these nurturing activities are actually good for me. They could easily be dismissed as a waste of time. Could looking at W magazine actually be good for me? For some reason, it is, at least in the creativity-inspiring sense. I don't know why and I don't really care why, I just know it flips some sort of switch in my brain.

What feeds me will be different from what feeds you. We each have a unique diet. 

What makes your creative stomach growl?

Are you fed?