Sunday, January 29, 2012

Next Lace Book Pages

The next lace book in my round robin group is for my friend Karen.  Her theme is the Madonna, and these images are from the two pages I made for her.

This image is from a photo I took at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City - Madonna 
and Child by Giovanni Bellini

And in this one, below, I altered an image to give it a cracked, mellow look by using an 
image of yellowed cracks and applying it with a blending mode in Photoshop.  
(I softened the cracks in the facial area to keep their faces pretty.) 
The blue lace up top with crosses is from the NYC garment district -
I was so happy to find it, as it's perfect for her theme.

The small Pieta image, below, is one I took at 
St. Patrick's cathedral.  

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Five on Friday

My friends Thauna and Lizzi at Life Besprinkled post a weekly Five on Friday column.  I love reading theirs and I'm inspired to try it. This week...

I took my baby girl to Motherhood maternity for her first mommy-to-be clothes.  I had fun, but she was fairly flipped out about facing her new curves.  But, you know, at least one of us enjoyed it.

Have you ever had a chance to see any of the Project Runway clothes up close?  The construction on some of them that look good on tv are a hot mess in person.

I thought all dogs liked water until I got mine.  He shakes so bad during bath time that now we both dread it.

When I go to some art exhibits, I get the same feeling I sometimes get when reading poetry or song lyrics.  I'm both completely inspired and absolutely annoyed that I don't have the same talent I admire in others.

The only reason I like Valentine's Day is because it's my sister's birthday.  Otherwise, I just think it's a day that makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable - whether you have a sweetheart or not.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Poetry Party Wednesday

The Meadow

Kate Knapp Johnson

Half the day lost, staring
at this window. I wanted to know
just one true thing
about the soul, but I left thinking
for thought, and now -
two inches of snow have fallen
over the meadow. Where did I go,
how long was I out looking
for you?, who would never leave me,
my withness, my here.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

More from the fabric book

A love story

Darcy's note to James, below, tells it all.

 It was the days of Lucky Lindy

And Gramophones with love songs

 Smoky Jazz Songs

And girls with more freedom than they'd ever known before...

Dancing all night until the sun came up.

Poetry Party Wednesday

The Blue Bowl

Jane Kenyon

Like primitives we buried the cat
with his bowl. Bare-handed
we scraped sand and gravel
back into the hole.
                               They fell with a hiss
and thud on his side,
on his long red fur, the white feathers
between his toes, and his
long, not to say aquiline, nose.
We stood and brushed each other off.
There are sorrows keener than these.
Silent the rest of the day, we worked,
ate, stared, and slept. It stormed
all night; now it clears, and a robin
burbles from a dripping bush
like the neighbor who means well
but always says the wrong thing.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Fabric Book Exchange

I've been using my favorite toy--my Brother sewing machine--quite a bit lately and thought I'd share some of the results.  I'm in a small round robin group where we are each creating a few fabric pages for each member's book.  We each chose a theme, and our textiles and images will relate to that theme.

Since I've been watching both Boardwalk Empire and House of Eliot in recent weeks, I was drawn to the 1920's -- the era of jazz, flappers, The Great Gatsby, dancing the Charleston, and Prohibition.  I imagine it as being a fictional girl's journal, with bits of her mementos pressed between the pages.  Hope you enjoy!

(I don't want to overload browsers, so I'll post a few pictures each day from my book.)

This is the front cover.  Her headpiece was the end corner of a vintage lace table runner, and when I held it up I imagined a face beneath it - so I painted one. The Cotton Club was a
very popular club in NYC during this era.

This is the drawstring bag the journal will go into.


The napkin, below right, was a piece of fabric 
I received as a gift from my friend Sox.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Poetry Party Wednesday

The Summer I Was Sixteen

Geraldine Connolly

The turquoise pool rose up to meet us,
its slide a silver afterthought down which
we plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles.
We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy.
Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted
up from ladder rungs across the fern-cool
lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated,
we sunbathed, rose and paraded the concrete,
danced to the low beat of "Duke of Earl".
Past cherry colas, hot-dogs, Dreamsicles,
we came to the counter where bees staggered
into root beer cups and drowned. We gobbled
cotton candy torches, sweet as furtive kisses,
shared on benches beneath summer shadows.
Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille
blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears,
mouthing the old words, then loosened
thin bikini straps and rubbed baby oil with iodine
across sunburned shoulders, tossing a glance
through the chain link at an improbable world.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Poetry Party Wednesday

One of my goals for 2012 is to post a favorite poem once a week, every Wednesday.  I hope you'll enjoy these as much as I do.  I thought this one was a good choice to begin with, for obvious reasons!

Introduction to Poetry

Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Monday, January 2, 2012

New Year's Resolutions?

I read somewhere that New Year's Resolutions have an 80% failure rate.  Sort of a dismal outlook.  

I guess it's because, if you didn't get it done the previous year, there's no reason to think you'll do something just because the calendar turns.  It makes sense.  Still,  I was in the mood to make a few changes today and decided January 1 was as good a time as any to get started.  I kicked this off by rolling up the area rug in our living room and throwing it out.  Then I made a resolution to get rid of our area rug.  We've got two cats and a dog and let's just say--it's easier to clean cat fur balls off a wood floor than a rug.  Things were already looking up and I was ahead of the 80% failure curve.  

My mom - sweet 16

Next I thought about what I'd like to do differently with my blog this year, and I decided I'd like to share some of my favorite poems.  Other people write about books they've read or art they've done or photos they've captured -- and I write about those too now and again, but I want to share the things I really treasure - and that is poetry.  I don't mean poems I've written -- I look back and find most of mine to be drivel and I'll spare you that --  but things others have written.  They are words that made me think about things in a new way, or captured a feeling I had experienced, or painted a picture in my mind.  So I sorted through all my favorites and got them ready, and every Wednesday this year will be Poetry Party Wednesday here at Quinceberry.

And to kick off the party, even though it isn't a Wednesday, one of my favorites by e e cummings...

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

e e cummings